As I’m writing this, it’s my fifth re-birthday. Just. I should have declared my re-birthday to be the day I woke up from my week-long coma (which would be almost a week from now), but I chose my re-birthday as the night I literally died–twice!, and that’s right now. So, happy re-birthday to me. I have never cared for my actual birthday, but I’ve gone from hating it to being truly neutral about it.
My re-birthday, on the other hand? I’m all about it. I have nothing but the warmest feelings for it, and I loudly proclaim it when it comes around. Hell, why not?
That’s not what I want to talk about, though. I have a much more sobering post for today, but it’s related, somewhat, to my medical crisis.
I used to be a member of the Balloon Juice community (political website). This was before the Obama days, and into his first term. Maybe longer? I really liked most of the regular commenters, and it was a great place to talk to other lefties. I was still probably one of the most left-leaning as ideological, I am very far left. At heart, though, I’m a pragmatist. I would rather get half of what I want actually passed into law than nothing. To a certain extent.
One person had the ‘nym Yutsano, and we became fast friends. We were both queer (he was gay, and I was/am bi), had a very dirty sense of humor, and clicked on several levels. I called him Yutsy, and he called me wifey. He was gay, but as he said, who doesn’t like boobs? He praised mine to high heaven (likening them to pillows), which always made me laugh.
I don’t remember how we decided to get fake-married–probably as a way to protest the inanity of the whole marriage equality debacle, er, debate, but we had a great time with it. The whole site was in on it, and we brought another gay guy into our fake family. Yes, we were a fake-throuple before it became a thing.
Yutsy and I kept in contact after I drifted away from Balloon Juice (politics were starting to really weigh me down. Ironic given what’s happening now). Any time BJ’s proprietor posted a picture of his cat, Tunch (who was the blog’s mascot. I have merch with His Royal’s roundness on it), Yutsy would tell them that the proper authority had been notified (me) and then message me.
He was much better at keeping in touch than I was. I’m not good about it, especially since my medical crisis. He would reach out every now and again (three-to-six months), but I had not heard from him in much longer than that.
I gave up completely on Twitter when it became the social media platform formerly known as Twitter, and I barely used Facebook. I had a Bluesky, but I rarely checked there, either. In fact, after my medical crisis, I effectively gave up on social media. So if he wanted to reach me, it would be through FB. I did check my messages there, but that wasn’t how we normally communicated.
Today, Ian messaged me with a BJ post about Yutsy’s passing. He got it from someone in the BJ community (a few people in the community know Ian and I are tight and the he’s the best way to get a message to me), and it was such a shock. I thought of him two or three days after not thinking about him for months, and then I find out the news?
It hit me hard. Even though I had not talked to him in some time, he had a special place in my heart. I smiled whenever I thought of him, and I always wished him well. I knew he was having some trouble, but I had no idea the extent.
I’m stuck on the fact that I thought of him a few days ago. It was such a clear, “I wonder how Yutsy is doing?” (And yes, I call him Yutsy in my head.) I should have reached out .I should have checked in. Even though it would have been too late.
I’ve been kind of in my own bubble since my medical crisis for many reasons. I definitely did not want to get deep into politics again because i was severely burned out. Also, I never felt like I mattered in any significant way. I’m Asian, agender (and AFAB to boot), fat, areligious, and a bunch of other things that make me invisible. No one gives a shit about people like me on many layers, so it’s really hard to toil away without any reciprocity.
Back to Yutsy. He was such a kind-hearted man. He was the glue that held our fake-throuple together, and my life was better for it. Family is family, yo. There’s a phrase found family, and Yutsy was definitely that.
I’m a weirdo in that I don’t have to talk to someone to still feel close to them. K and I message once every other week or so, and we talk once every few months. And yet, I know if I needed her tomorrow, she’d be here. Same with Ian. We message almost every day, but same principle. They were both there for me when I had my medical crisis, and they are my ride-or-dies. So is my Taiji teacher. And my brother.
My heart aches. As I said, I haven’t talked to Yutsy for a while, but he means a lot to me. not just because he was so kind and sweet (and funny as hell), but because he was someone I could be at least somewhat unmasked with. He made me feel special, and I regret that I did not reciprocate with him as much as I could have/lhould have.
I should have checked in on him last year when I hadn’t heard from him for a while. I’m not beating myself up for it, but I do regret it. I’m pretty somber right now–melancholy, even. He was roughly my age, which meant he’s gone way before his time.
May your spirit soar free, Yutsy. I will join you when it’s my turn to die for the third (and presumably final) time.