This is a personal post. Sad and depressing really.
I’m warning you. All trigger warnings around this are expected.
As you probably know by now, I am disabled.
It’s been an always thing. I grew up having issues that were never explained. I have the “normal” hatred for the medical community. Chronic illnesses lead to that. They never listen like they should. They never figure out what’s wrong. They don’t help.
I’m not able bodied.
I’ll never be able bodied.
Even if I have days on end where I can play the part, I know I’m not.
I do seek to spend less days in bed unable or in the wheelchair trapped. I shouldn’t hate being trapped. The wheelchair gives a day I’d be bed ridden a chance for escape. It’s a privilege to have that option and ability. It is a tool that gives me a chance. But it’s so limited in its options. I don’t live in a house I can easily move about in one.
And when I need it… Let’s just say I’ve fallen on my way to the bathroom before. It’s only the next room over. And it’s been too far. I keep bed pads next to my bed because I know there’s been issues. I’d rather not need them. I’d rather have a better option.
How often have I collapsed because I needed to go? My memories aren’t like yours. I don’t have lots of positive memories of going out to eat. Or being in large crowds.
I want to dance. So much so. I want to be able to dance for hours on end with barely a pause to hydrate. I want that so badly. And it is really out of my reach.
I’ll never be a dancer. Not really.
I wouldn’t be able to be a writer either if not for the computer. I can type. My hands can manage that. I tried writing yesterday only to find my hands refuse to work. They just seized up. Typing doesn’t require as much. There are some days I have a story bursting to get out and the inability to write it down. There are days typing is too much.
You’ll just say I can verbalize it the machine. And I have. But what about the days where that is also off the table? Where I cannot speak because my body has stopped working.
I am disabled.
And my life has gotten worse over the years.
For all my abilities, my love, my caring, my hopes, and my dreams… I really have nothing to look forward to.
Most people’s ‘if only’ falls into the idea of meeting a celebrity or having their book become known or getting an A on a test.
My ‘if only’ is finding a doctor who will listen and try to help. Legit try to help and not demean me for being disabled.
I know I have allergies. Easy to find those because you just remove items and feel better. It’s amazing. I can do that myself. I don’t need a doctor.
I know I am autistic. I love it actually. Having a word for the way my mind works.
I’m pretty certain I have epilepsy. It would explain quite a few things that happened throughout my life.
But that’s not everything. And I have no idea what most of my auto immune diseases are. Only that I am impacted by them.
I have accepted where I am. I have accepted my limitations. Limitations that people treat me as less than for.
I have always been disabled.
But I was never allowed to use such a word. I couldn’t be like “them”.
If my family was less ablest, and didn’t teach me to be the same, I wouldn’t hate myself so much now. I wouldn’t wish death upon myself so much now.
Every single time I am trapped in my bed, depression springs forth.
It’s easy to accept limits when they aren’t completely at the bottom.
I have before. Until…
My family talks about me while I am trapped in my bed unable to do anything- including speak. They say things that prove they are ablest trash making the world a worse place.
I can hear them. I cannot respond. My body is unable at that moment.
But the depression does.
And I find myself sinking farther.
Because my family hates me. Hates every little thing about me. They tell me randomly when they don’t think I can hear them.
Comas do not mean people cannot hear you. Please stop thinking just because I cannot communicate means I cannot understand your words. I can hear you. I often times can see you. I just cannot respond.
This is my normal.
The hatred from my family for being disabled is the reason I won’t come out to them as genderfluid or pansexual or asexual. Because I know this same hate would just hit harder. They’d hate me more.
How can you hate someone more?
They’d figure it out.
I’m in a lot of pain. It’s not just physical. Physical is actually the easiest to handle. I wish it was my hardest.