Immunity : Unfiltered

  20 Pieces of Ableist Propaganda I’m No Longer Falling For Over the past few months, and more so this month, which is why my blog has been so quiet... something quite unexpected has been happening. Not in a dramatic, cinematic way. No inspirational movie montage here. Just a slow, quiet process of unlearning things I didn’t even realise I had absorbed.  When you live with a chronic illness like CVID , you pick up a lot of messages about what you’re supposed to be. Some of them are obvious. Others are so subtle they hide in plain sight for years. Little ideas about worth. Effort. Productivity. What counts as “deserving”. A lot of those ideas are, frankly, nonsense. So here are twenty pieces of ableist propaganda I’m actively unlearning. Because apparently the brain sometimes needs to hear these things out loud before it believes them. JUST LOOK at this study space in the library at my uni! WHY WOULDN'T I, or anyone to be more than honest, be OBSESSED with reading and studyin...

Uni has a way of throwing you these little curveballs that make your chest ache in the best and worst ways. This week mine came in the form of a recommendation for Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2018) as part of reception studies in classical literature. Honestly for the first chunk, you would be forgiven for saying that "nothing happens" and that's almost true.... Forty-five minutes in, it's a language of stolen glances, barely a word exchanged at times, and yet it grips you completely. It feels like someone has taken the awkward, burning intensity of a Sapphic crush and put it on screen. It is savage. The baited breaths, the eye contact, the conversations behind the eyes, and the YEARNING..... BRUTAL! My heart went in my mouth several times, and it was agony! Seriously. Céline Sciamma is a genius at making you feel like a voyeur. The sound design is understated and gorgeous, the kind of subtlety that makes you hold your breath. The camera follows Marianne and Héloïse...

💙Life Lately... The gratitude app giving me affirmations! ... Honestly that app has helped me so much and I have a 101 day streak!  The next few days feel… full. In that slightly overwhelming but also very exciting way. I’m prepping for my birthday, for blood tests, for new university modules, and for something that still feels a bit surreal to say out loud: I’m starting formal archaeology study for the first time in my life. Actual archaeology. Proper modules. I cannot overstate how excited I am. Nervous too, obviously, but the good kind. The kind that means you care. Amongst all of this, I did a very adult, very sensible thing and replaced my medical ID bracelet . My old one had been with me since I was first diagnosed. It’s battered, scratched, and honestly kind of unhinged looking now, but it did its job for a long time. Unfortunately, the engraving has worn down to the point where it can’t really be read anymore, which means it’s no longer keeping me safe. And that matters m...

This Christmas, my family gifted me something extraordinary: the most beautiful journal I have ever seen. Truly boujie , and somehow, entirely magical. It’s from Samalanah, by Hannah Lily Designs in Brecon , and it feels like it was made for reflection, intention, and a touch of indulgence. If you know me, you know bullet journaling isn’t just a hobby—it’s a lifeline. My analogue system is already elaborate: an academic journal , a wellness tracker , a planning journal , and a long-form diary that’s part catharsis, part incoherent rambling. But this journal… it’s on another level. Every detail whispers intention. Every page feels like it was made to be filled with moments that matter, not just lists or obligations. I was recommended this shop when in another shop and failing to find what I needed and now, I love it.  The way I love this shop, I fail to even put into words, everything in there is so YUMMY! They make all kinds of soaps, and scents, and all made ethically, handmade, ...

There’s a strange hush that settles in the days between Christmas and New Year. Time goes syrupy. The house smells faintly of yesterday. You don’t quite know what day it is, and honestly you don’t care. Twixtmas lives in the cracks. A pause. A limbo. A holding breath. It’s always in this space that I start thinking about what comes next. This year, that thinking has been quieter but deeper. Less fireworks, more foundations. I’ve applied formally for the courses I want to do. I’ve also applied to study further beyond that. I’ve looked at every realistic route: distance learning , for Autumn next year, my first-choice university, the Open University . I’ve cast my net wide. Not because I don’t know what I want, but because I do know how fragile the word “allowed” can become when you’re chronically ill . I also know that I am making the right choice, and no matter what, I am NOT giving up on my childhood dream! 😁📚 🏺 When you become chronically ill, what you “deserve” to aim for b...