A series of blurbs—my relationships with inanimate objects most people take for granted until they are unable to. People with mental illness or neuro-divergent brains don’t have the luxury of taking basic things for granted. Let’s explore this.
My relationship with chairs, that’s an excellent place to start—for the past several years I’ve sat on at least a dozen different ‘sits’ because at one point I simply had pillows piled on the floor. I have issues with the blood circulation in my legs and there were a couple of chairs I could only sit in for under 45 minutes. All chairs are not considered equal when you want to sit in it for at least an hour; even with a pillow, that old dining room chair was a hazard. I put something under the desk to bring my feet up, but the hard surface caused my feet to ache. One year we got a proper swivel computer chair from a family friend for Christmas and I used that for a while, but it didn’t fit well in my little nook. We were big gamers and had multiple computers on multiple surfaces put together so they could share ports…somehow, over the years, my desk literally had me ‘backed into a corner.’ There’s an ironic story I’m in no hurry to share.
Anyhow, chairs—I found this funky chair online, similar to one I knew as a child, designed so your knees rest on the lower part as your butt rests on the upper part. It took me a long time to realize a chair with a back is really important to my writing comfort, but it’s still a lovely chair and I cherish it. Another chair I tried…suffice to say I do not cherish that chair because it’s height is equal to a toilet and it’s cushion is pathetic. Eventually I’ll launch some healing magic at it, but in the meanwhile it hangs out in the basement amongst the stored stuff. This other chair is a cherished member of our family and comfortable enough, but the back is too low.
For the past several months, up to an over a year {memory, you know} the chair I’ve been using has a fascinating backstory. As you’ll no doubt notice, my spousums and I enjoy fotography, we’ve picked up countless props over the years from hats to dresses to…well…nifty chairs. We wanted a certain look of antique and prowled our local ads, eventually finding this lovely old thing; no arms, shorter legs, seat slightly wider than the back which curves in where they meet. The frame is dark stained wood and it’s been perfect, for the most part—it doesn’t fit under my desk, which doesn’t really matter, but it does sit in front of it in a way that, in order for me to be close enough to the computer, I have to kind of wiggle my feet into their resting place. Under the desk has a few pillows for my feet to sit on while I type, to bring my knees up comfortably.
My desk was picked up at a quirky second hand furniture shop that has long since gone out of business and is now a slap of concrete amongst some grass and a gravel parking lot. It’s kind of surreal how very gone a place can become…
Anyhow, it’s a weird little thing and I’ve taken all the draws out of it because I’m a drawer thief; supporting my rough filing system is their life goal and I have them stashed around packed full of folders and papers. It’s a system I started years ago and eventually I’ll have to go through it and make improvements. I kidnap dresser drawers too, and turn them into little bookcases—they are also scattered around.
This desk came with six drawers, 3 on either side of the leg-cave or whatever; now, of course, there are two great holes. The one on my left is full of books no one wants to read, but are loved regardless so we must care for them—this is important for my keyboard to sit on, just so, because when I sit down, I reach for my keyboard which sits in my lap. Limitations, you know, but at least I’ve got my chair. I come in from the left, so on my write is a little shelf for snackums or my phone or notes and honestly that hole in the desk is still fairly empty because I don’t much care.
What is a squishy tribe? Ah the amazing world of stuffies {stuffed animals} and the things people keep coming up with. I have this hideous, fake tye-dye, square unicorn pig sitting on my bed; this is a Moosh Moosh {pet name, I often cut off tags} which is not to be confused with Squishums {note aforementioned disclaimer} of which I also have 2, Not Moosh and Pingi. I was introduced to these magnificent stuffies a few years back, during the magic of the holiday season, when I received the first member of my Squishy Tribe. The original Moosh camps out with me as I write, whenever I write, because he lives on this chair. He’s gotten a wee flat, but he still supports my lower back well enough and I can write in comfort for well over an hour.
