Dear Tyrant: Vulnerability Isn't a Crime

In response to Trump’s push to “restore public order” through mass institutionalization…

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Hi, I’m Liora.

In light of the tyrant’s latest executive order, I feel it necessary to share some things with you.

I was once homeless. Thankfully, not living-in-the-streets homeless, but couch-surfing, living-out-of-the-cheapest-hotel-one-room-for-three-adults-and-four-cats homeless.

Skin of my teeth. Every day was a prayer to survive and get enough to eat to make it to the next. Each day prioritizing my cats over us, prioritizing my sons over myself.

Because that’s what it came down to on a regular basis: them OR us/me.

Relied on Ramen for so long, we all started having health problems due to malnutrition.

And we were fucking thankful for each bowl.

When you’re in that hard of a survival mode, let me tell you: your mental health is not a Cancun vacation. It’s not pretty in your head. Things aren’t just “fine”.

You’re forced to make hard choices.

Every. Fucking. Day.

Making it out of that situation was a complex web of miracles, determination, and continuously reaching out to get help.

One door shuts, knock on another.

And the shit no one ever tells you is that the more vulnerable you are, the more everyone else tries to take from you.

People can be ugly, vicious creatures…. that eat their young, sick, and weak.

I am a veteran.

But it was still really hard to find support to truly help turn the tide.

It happened in layers, over a very long period of time.

It came down to a handful of truly empathetic and capable people in a sea of those who only checked boxes and collected a paycheck.

Without those angels, I honestly don’t even know if I’d still be here.

Yeah, it got that bad.

Was it always that way?

No. But life can sometimes deal you too much at once to actually process.

It can knock your fucking legs out from underneath you, and leave you wondering what the hell just happened.

Short backstory for perspective:

Though I tried constantly to be better each day, I think differently than most people I’ve been around. I’ve only recently come to realize I am on the spectrum. As all my children are.

I’m a high achiever but suffer from crippling self-doubt and a need to mask/people-please, no doubt hardwired in from childhood and reinforced throughout my life.

After the loss of my brother and a succession of traumas, mass targeting, harassment, and assaults at my job, more familial losses….

I finally fucking cracked.

My PTSD and anxiety were so triggered, I shut down completely.

And fell further from functionality with each day.

Am I a monster? Do I deserve to go to Alligator Alcatraz or worse?

Do I not have anything to offer to my fellow humans?

Or did I just need empathy and support to get through it to the other side?

I’m still here.

I’m still standing, creating daily and seeking to use my pain and experiences to help others.

Kindness and empathy are not weaknesses. They come from the deepest parts of our humanity.

Yet, I also rage.

But honestly, the things I’m most angry about these days are the actions and words of this horrible administration.

And the idiocy of those who follow this bullshit blindly, willingly, even gleefully.

I’ve said it before; the writing has been on the wall. They are moving to criminalize vulnerability.

Here’s a clue: institutionalizing people against their will has never helped their mental health. Historically, it’s only served to expose them to even more vulnerability.

And here. We. Are.

These are dangerous times, my friends.

We must make a stand.

We are watching a line be drawn… between cruelty and compassion.

It’s time to choose…

Which side of history will you be on?

— Liora
voice through fire | www.liorawrites.com

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