Storme Winfield
Stories (4/0)
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My mother's funeral was at the beginning of this year. Every speaker and contributor to it spoke of how she'd given her entire life over to helping others. She worked tirelessly to improve things for other people. She was beloved for her laughter, her caring, the joy she took in others. She was dyslexic, wheelchair-bound, and in the last five years of her life also entirely blind--none of which stopped her from charity work, from volunteer work, or from her political work. She marched for gay rights, for black lives, for disability rights, for peace. She refused to go quietly into that good night; she was campaigning and fighting for what she believed in right up until she died.
By Storme Winfield3 years ago in Families
Why are you like this?
About eight years ago, my cousin told me that she'd been diagnosed with ADHD. She'd been medicated. It had been transformative, transcendental for her: she realised that this is what it must be like for other people, she said, to concentrate, to focus, to not lose things or forget they exist once out of your sight, to have the mental clarity of one's best days almost every day instead of as a rare treat.
By Storme Winfield3 years ago in Psyche