HeyJaredthe veil
An artist writing about survival in fragile bodies and tender worlds. Chronic pain, grief, growth, and making meaning inside limitation. Disabled (hEDS & POTS), autistic, asexual.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 6
- Latest publication
- Sep 23, 2026
- Audience
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 8, 2026
Latest issues
Cut the Stem from the Root (opens the original)
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Recently, I’ve begun to suspect I might have myalgic encephalomyelitis. I also know that my suspicions may never be acknowledged by a medical professional, so this might be the closest I get to an answer.I have all the symptoms. And of course I know there’s a lot of overlap with hEDS, POTS, and autism.But more than anything, my baseline just keeps tanking.<a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!jS-v!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https
I Guess This Is My 5,000 Subscriber Essay (opens the original)
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My friends, my heart is bursting. I’ve just passed 5,000 subscribers on Substack.A year and a half ago, on a whim, I decided to start writing essays for the first time since I left school.I’m 38. I’ve lived through all the social medias there have ever been. I was on Myspace in high school, taking my overhead bathroom selfies. I joined Facebook as soon as I started college (it was still college students only then). I reveled in Tumblr, posting my music demos and photo booth portraits. When Insta
I Don’t Want to Be Special Anymore (opens the original)
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I don’t want to be special anymore.I know that’s a controversial thing to say, especially in America. We’ve been programmed to aim for greatness, to strive until we break ourselves, to lay ourselves down for our craft. We want to “become someone.” We want to build legacies that outlive us.It could make anyone feel guilty for admitting they’d rather just… live. When did being ordinary become such a frightening idea?<a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/f
The Accommodation I Wanted Didn’t Exist (opens the original)
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Last month I went to a festival for the first time in probably close to eight years, and afterward I felt like emotional ghosts were chasing me.What I first thought was that I felt regret.You see, a friend of mine was performing and I really wanted to support her. But my body wouldn’t comply.<a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!9WFb!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2
I Thought Disability Made Me Harder to Love (opens the original)
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Being loved by a disabled person is an honor, but disability can reshape romantic relationships in ways our culture rarely talks about. For this essay, I invited a handful of disabled writers and advocates whose work I deeply admire to share pieces of their own experiences alongside mine. I hope you’ll click through to their profiles and spend some time with their work.As with my essay on disabled friendship, I wanted this piece to be larger than my own story. Disability is not a monolith
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