Hi, I’m José.
An “abnormal” who no longer recognises himself in this (they still call it that) human world.
An abnormal who cherishes the simplicity of a gesture, the genuineness of a smile, the truth stripped bare through a gaze.
An abnormal who still feels longing, who still doesn’t try to hide emotion, who still speaks without filters, and who — though he’s more than earned the right — still can’t stay indifferent to the stupidity of confusing existing with living, settling merely for surviving.
An abnormal who, because of all this and much more, feels cornered — even “frightened” — by the path the herd insists on dragging the world towards.
Still, perhaps precisely because of my “madness”, I’ve got the guts to once again share my words and illustrations — what I think, what I feel.
A little more about me
(Because very little — or nothing at all — ever truly comes from nothing.)
I’m forty-five, born with cerebral palsy (no, don’t assume — go read about it), with a degree in Multimedia Engineering, and a love for water sports — I’ve practised sailing, rowing, and surfing.
If you’ve never “seen” me heavier (funny enough, neither have I :p), until around 2016/2017, besides being happy, I was deeply involved in sowing the seeds of a world that was truly more welcoming and fair — a world (almost) by and for everyone.
I write “was” because I had to stop for a few good years — to care less for others and more for myself.
They were far from pretty years — pure chaos, in fact — but… here I am.
Digitally speaking, I return now with a website, a domain, and a different image — a bridge to this person I’ve become, who’s also very (or perhaps even more) different from the one I was for thirty-seven years.
A note on that “besides happy” bit
Sadly, the herd — still blindly loyal to its eternal shepherds — tends to label as foolish anyone who dares to express such a pure truth: that it is possible to be genuinely happy even in an imperfect world.
As if happiness depended on perfection, when in truth, being happy is simply to feel alive — to adore and prioritise the small details, and to do everything within our reach so that, among the infinite experiences life offers, we die as little stupid as possible… lowering, by a lot, what will inevitably remain undone and unsaid.
Chaos and the beginning of the climb
In 2018/19 I met true chaos — rock bottom.
And it took immense strength not to “let go of the rope” and somehow climb my way out.
Quotes, because I’m talking about mental chaos (PTSD, anxiety, or whatever label you prefer) — and chaos of that kind never leaves you cured, much less unscathed.
Still, it’s within it that we discover so much about ourselves: things we’d missed before, that now make all the difference in how we live the present.
(One day I’ll write about that lived chaos — promise.)
During the climb, with every summit reached, I changed — a thousand times more than life (not society, not the herd) had ever changed me before.
Above all, it changed how I see the “human” world — which, quite frankly, I find utterly rotten.
Between chaos and a restart — and the why of this blog
Though I use it often, I’ll admit: the phrase “new me” makes me itch.
First, because this new me still dims the passionate being I once was.
Second — hence the quotation marks — because, in truth, there’s no new or old me; there’s only the less confident side, the one chaos left exposed.
And because I know how easily the “normal” slip into the “I always thought that…”, here’s my “…only, no.”
I — perhaps because I was born with them — always handled my sharper imperfections quite well.
What I realised, in the climb, is that it isn’t about handling them well or badly.
For instance, I’d often hear things like:
“I don’t know how you find such strength to make your will prevail.”
And I’d reply something like:
“First, they’re not wishes, they’re possibilities.
Second, if I know something is possible, why would I bow to someone who knows nothing of what I am, or what I’m capable of?”
Consciously, that was — and must again be — true.
But, as I was writing above, I realised that, subconsciously, things could be much more complex — battles within a war.
While I thought everyone fought with self-awareness, I, unknowingly — perhaps to excuse my “I don’t do anything special” — was making use of my “abnormal” reputation to live authentically: to follow my smile and ignore conventions about what I should or shouldn’t do or accept.
And, in that sense, not even the PTSD monster managed to change me.
This blog is born from that — from the mix of confusion and clarity.
From the (still alive) will not to silence what I feel, nor sit idly by watching the decay of a world stubbornly confusing existence with life.
I tried to stay quiet, not to bother.
But — though I’ve earned it — I just can’t.
Perhaps this digital drawer will change nothing.
But who knows? Maybe it will reach someone who needed to read it.
At the very least, by writing, it may echo more clearly within me.
I believe that expressing ourselves — by whatever means: writing, drawing, dance — always helps; both ourselves and others.
And if I (still) believe, it is because it’s (still) possible.
I’m on the — still long — road to reclaiming pieces of who I once was.
And pieces, because this here, whether I like it or not, is also me.
I don’t long for unrealities or perfection; I simply seek a balance between who (or how) I was and how I feel today — or, ideally, one that leans toward what once smiled.
So let it be clear: everything I publish here will be about me — what I think, what I feel, what I see.
I add this note because truth… well, it doesn’t always sit comfortably in the adult mind.