All the men have died, the Marks and Tbones, and she's hauled ass to move to what's left of her mother-in-law's lands, for context:

"Wash thyself therefore, and anoint thee, and put thy raiment upon thee, and get thee down to the threshing-floor, but make not thyself known unto the man, until he shall have done eating and drinking. 4 And it shall be, when he lieth down, that thou shalt mark the place where he shall lie, and thou shalt go in, and uncover his feet, and lay thee down; and he will tell thee what thou shalt do. 5 And she said unto her, All that thou [b]sayest I will do." (Ruth, Ch 3)

When you've lost home, you don't really know how to land without crashing or turtling, you're going because you have to go, you have no home left where you are/were, you do what you're supposed to do / must. You survive and take care of your mother, working every day in the labor of that, picking the ground clean and thankful to be able to do it for her. Then you lie at some guy's feet and he tells you what to do and everything gets better. Right?

I decided to reread it after deciding on this.

I was 8 years old. I didn't just read the book of Ruth, I memorized it. I could recite any part on command (pet trick). They were hard-core Bethel Baptists, I got baptized all the time, they let you repeat weekly if you wanted to freshen it up, like very lite diy waterboarding in front of an audience.

(My mother only remembers picking me up there once and the Sunday school teacher said I was a natural leader 🤣 my mother rightly thought "cult!" but 🤣 she let me keep going anyways, of course. I mean, she got to sleep in on Sunday cz a bus came, so)

" 8 And it came to pass at midnight, that the man was [c]afraid, and turned himself; and, behold, a woman lay at his feet. 9 And he said, Who art thou? And she answered, I am Ruth thy handmaid: spread therefore thy skirt over thy handmaid; for thou art [d]a near kinsman. 10 And he said, Blessed be thou of Jehovah, my daughter: thou hast showed more kindness in the latter end than at the beginning, inasmuch as thou followedst not young men, whether poor or rich. 11 And now, my daughter, fear not; I will do to thee all that thou sayest; for all the [e]city of my people doth know that thou art a worthy woman"

And then he bought her. He went into town, gathered all the dudes in charge, and said basically I know she has closer cousins but I am claiming kinsmenship, all the land she's been gleaning and her with it (and the mother). And they said, OK. And so Ruth "joined Rachel and Leah among women who have worth" in God's eyes. 

Both sexual orientation and approach to life breakdowns, written into my operating dos. It is all right there, the seething chaste sideeye at party guys (don't touch me), the belief in moving and working yourself literally down to the ground noticing all the little things overlooked by others, the attracted to the familiar, the anxiety over elderly mothers and their bitter losses. The power to hold steady in the face of all that and submit only from a place of strong enough. Build me up if you want me at your feet. 

It is difficult to explain that ❤️‍🔥 to anyone. Wtf kinda 'submission' is that? There is no easy way to explain "then I just won't eat" until, either. Until what? Until I have done enough. Enough of what? Dunno, not glean barley since that's not a thing, and yes that probably means I need an antidepressant/benzo combo again, the whole 'moving across the desert' (to Cheekdavegas) part is fucking brutal. But no matter how much therapy I get, I can't rewrite the dos. My therapist knows that. That is the moral obligation, not to change who you are, to change how you're handling who you are, hurting yourself and others or not doing that.

If you're trans, you have to accept your gender. And stand for it. Even if people hate you. For instance.

That is what I do believe.

I don't know when or how I will feel worthy enough for hunger. I wish I felt it today, right now, because my lawn needs mowed like whoa and I am too weak. This morning I hoisted a concrete planter that prolly weighs more than half what I do, and then cleaned more and took down ugly drapes, got a kitchen floor estimate, I did did did until I gave out and came home to read the bible. Now I'm gonna smoke a joint and drink milk a while. Put things in carts for when I get $ again. I am so underwater on $ it's crazzzy. But it'll flip in October. And I STILL won't spend a dime until my mother gets here and says "now, you're good to go". And we will buy her a bed, and probably god help me an electric recliner 🤦🏻‍♀️, anything she wants.

kitchen floor, old school 

Ears, just when I am about to lament (I actually cry when I am faced with having to choose food 😪), texts: Niagara Cafe will be there in 45 minutes ❤️

He is taking this man of my house thing very seriously every day. 

omg so good

up all night - james bay ft lumineers 

see? sometimes I can 😪 grateful