Posted: 2025-10-16

Lewis's Travels

I have not been in that many relationships yet but already have a lot of stories.

Fractals of fractals: Tiny slivers of the human condition; the bits of the world that are inconvenient to think too much about; the bits of the world that you walked past every day and never questioned.

A microcosm of traumas and hopes and dreams and passions and fears and endless, endless complexity, packaged up perfectly in these hearts people are somehow willing to hand over. Hearts that cannot fit in a box, but which can fit in a person's hands -- if that person is gentle and kind with them.

When you're trusted with the most precious thing in the world, you cannot take your eyes off it for a second. It's your whole being in that time.

"What do you get out of this?"

Everything you could ever want.

🔗 Stories

"You married someone older than you at a very young age."

"I was 22 and she was 29, but I'd just lost 4 years to psychosis so-"

"You didn't have time to learn to be a person of your own. You need to go spend time with many people, and find yourself among them. You need your world to not revolve around an other individual person anymore — you need your world to revolve around you."

🔗 Soulburn

Shared with permission.

CW: disability, emotionally heavy

Soulburn: heartburn for the soul. A deep bittersweet ache that you're never really sure will be quenched, and maybe it shouldn't, because it will push you to better the world.

I was over at hers. She's already published a book. She wanted to show me what she was writing next.

A lot of our time together is dominated by the wounds we share.

"Here are some words that rearranged my brain."

She has multiple sclerosis. It is not visible to me: by definition, I only see her on good days. We just have to manage the temperature of the room. MS is temperature sensitive.

She is a veterinary surgeon, and we cannot go out to Asian places because she can no longer hold chopsticks.

"I never believed in God or governments, only my head and hands. And guess what is being taken away from me?

I'm scared that one day I'll lose too much of myself, and I won't be able to get it back for my kids. So I'm writing it down. A recipe for me."

She was so casual about it, sharing this with me like it was nothing. You all know me: I'm a loudmouth, you can barely shut me up. I read the whole thing in silence, then managed to tell her that it was bloody lucky I'm on anticholinergics or I would have ruined it with tears.

She trusts me and was a little surprised at my reaction. I told her that she had uploaded a piece of her soul into me. Of course it was nothing to her: it was her. I'm the only person who's read it apart from her.

It is not possible to find a person who deserves this less.

There are no happy endings, because nothing ever really ends, does it?

🔗 Playing Telephone

CW: disability, adorable

The first support worker I had since moving was a lovely guy by the name of Mason.

He was white bread in every sense of the phrase.

He wore a puffer jacket and Birkenstocks with white cotton socks, all year round. He found sriracha unbearably spicy. He could hold chopsticks, but only if you showed him how every time he picked them up. He found my crazy life fascinating but was very much happy to not be living it.

He took me out to a birthday.

I get a message afterwards: "Stef is asking because Sophie was told Georgia wants to know if Mason is single."

It was so delightfully high school. I replied no.

"Probably just as well, Georgia would eat him for breakfast."

He ended up moving to Queensland because of course he did. We keep in touch.

🔗 Fortress

Shared with permission.

CW: Stalking, domestic violence

We met at a regular pub night. She's having an unpleasant separation. I missed one of these nights, and she messaged me while she was at it.

Okay, so turning up to random social gatherings your ex-partner is at is likely bona fide stalking. His previous efforts had been very low effort, but this is now scary.

I talk to my support worker about the next event, and he proposes the logical options: take out an IVO, speak to the bar staff, and call the police if he goes anywhere near her.

I tell him that he has insulted her cooking (which he did).

Support worker: I WILL DECK THE GUY.

Her cooking is amazing and he's tasted it. You do NOT insult her cooking. I'm like, okay fist fights are not part of your remit and I don't want to have to explain this to Quality and Safeguards. We set up an honour guard: a good friend, the support worker and I set up a little fort in a booth so she has a safe place to return to but can go off and socialise.

He never turned up again. I am proud that I was able to be her safe space for a night.

🔗 Octopus

Posted with permission

I was given this by someone close to me and they said they would explain the story later. That person later ended up in hospital and I reached out - are you bored enough to tell me the story now?

She said, perfect timing, and we've come full circle. It started in the psych ward.

She used to make them so they had something to leave with - a physical reminder that they'd gotten through this, and that they are strong enough to get through it again.

Even when she was dangling her feet over the edge of the world, she still felt a duty to hold others up.

She once knew someone was not doing well. He was crying himself to sleep, feeling lonely and unloved. But it was past curfew, and in psych wards you're not allowed into each others' rooms. She snuck up to his door, opened it slightly, threw it at him and ran back to her room.

He was not doing well, and in his words, "this little bitch came in and changed that by throwing a fucking octopus at me".

🔗 Cactus

I was given this by someone who "does not give gifts lightly".

She picked it because some people would take one glance and think "prick", but when you learn more, they represent a resilience that that can thrive in the depths of Hell, while still providing refuge and protection for the ones around it.

At first I put it out on the balcony. But then I realised it needs to be around people to do its job: changing behaviours. You are always a little more careful around it.

🔗 The Rules of the Clover

It was at the bottom of the bag which had "a hell of a lot of goodwill packed into it." It sure was lucky I checked the bottom of the bag before throwing it out, wasn't it?

How to not exhaust it:

- Do not depend on it. It will only work if you hold it lightly in your mind.

- You will get what you need, not necessarily what you want.

- When you no longer need it, someone will appear for you to give it to. Do not regret handing it over: be happy that you helped them. What goes around comes around.

- Remember that luck is given, not made.

It is not presently in my hands 🙂

🔗 Chilli

The last time I cooked this was in response to a phone call that a close relative had fallen and broken their neck. I got a panicked phone call in the middle of the night begging me to make the food problem go away.

The last time someone cooked it for me, I was racking my brains on how I can possibly survive going forwards with what I had.

Today, I'm reminding someone that they're loved and valued, and that they're worth it.

We can argue about the practical utility of the dish - freezes well, robust flavour, calorie rich comfort food with economical ingredients that can be made at scale - but for whatever reason chilli con carne seems to be the go-to when someone's in a crisis.

My secret ingredients are vegemite, very dark chocolate, Scotch whisky and butter.

I do not consider it to be chilli unless it is at least moderately spicy. It is not capsicum con carne.

You don't say a bad word about people who feed people in a crisis. Today that's me. Next time I might be the one eating.

🔗 Spoons

Posted with permission

These spoons are stitch markers used as a guideline when you're knitting, so that they don't fall out of alignment. They let you keep track of how far along a row you are.

A partner who has autism uses them in much the same way in social settings: markers so that you can see how far along the expenditure of energy has gone, so that you can stay on track to come out of social events and still have the capacity for responsibilities afterwards. She discreetly hands me spoons as the event goes on, and we plan together for how many she intends to spend.

This way I don't have to count her emotional stitches as I go.

We have nicknamed the vendor of these items Spoon Angel.

🔗 Marks

A transgender cryptography researcher catgirl with multiple personalities discovered alcohol and puked on my carpet and I can't get the stain out >:(

Last week, the manager at the local Philly Cheesesteak place, Sakka, asked for my card because he wanted to work with me to "do good things for others". The night before last he went to sleep and didn't wake up. His coworkers said he was always a "pure soul".

It's always hard to lose someone you are close to and know well. It's confusing and overwhelming to lose someone you might have become closer to but never get to find out.

🔗 Patience

I'm cooking for myself, even if I'm not the one who eats it. Good chili takes time. If you're making it quickly you're making it wrong.

🔗 Pheromones

Posting with permission.

A partner was doing IVF. This is something which happens in stages. Before they can implant a fetus, they get the woman hyperovulating - releasing as many eggs as is medically possible in an attempt to maximise their chances. They pump them full of ridiculous, unbelievable doses of hormones to achieve this. I am told that dogs think someone who is in this state smell AMAZING.

My understanding of medical science's current position on human pheromones is: they clearly exist, but nobody knows what the molecules are yet.

I went over for cuddles. I have not experienced anything like this before or since. It was like both of us were on some kind of drug. This was not sexual: it was a feeling of closeness and belonging.

I am sterile. I will never have children. But we cuddled up on the couch with her daughter, and for a single, perfect moment we were an instant family unit and the chaos of the world - the geopolitical instability, the unsustainable economics, the violence and hatred and the abuse - became utterly, utterly irrelevant. I had never seen the appeal of starting a family, but for that exact instant, I got it.

And then I went back to my life, like we agreed.

Sometimes the deepest insights are hiding in plain sight.

She got 20 eggs and 10 embryos out of it. She's a machine.

🔗 Lewis's Travels XII

Permission was not granted, other than the last line:

She said "I love you" before walking out the door. I replied, "I love you more." She stopped in the doorway, turned around, and said "no you fucking don't."

🔗 Squatting

CW: Homelessness, family estrangement, emotionally intense

In the distant past - more than a decade ago, many years past the statute of limitations - I briefly engaged in a small spot of urban exploration.

We explored an abandoned university dorm, I don't remember which. The building was questionably safe to walk around in - it was two stories, but large sections of the upper floor had collapsed. What was particularly interesting was that the walls had messages written on them. The people who had been squatting there communicated by doing this.

There was one message which stood out in my mind:

"Dear X. We know you're still staying here. Please come home. Your family loves you."

It would have made for a hell of a photo, but taking one just felt wrong.

I really hope the person pulled through in the end.

🔗 Lewis's Travels XIV

Permission was not granted, and likely never can be.

This incident fundamentally changed my understanding of the connection between brain and body.

🔗 Lewis's Travels XV

Permission was not granted, and likely never can be.

This incident fundamentally changed my perspective on what a human is.

The stories about dissociative identities are both my favourite ones and have changed my view of the world the most, but they are also the most problematic to share.