Warning: this post contains naughty language. And a very annoyed fox speaking his truth.
It’s July, and that means Disabled Pride Month. I’m not entirely sure what that means, but if it gives me a chance to talk about disability, that’s cool.
I am disabled. Didn’t start out that way. Got sick when I was a teen and never got healthy. Doctors threw various diagnoses at me. None of them landed right.
I spend my days now in a recliner. Not because I’m “lazy” or “unmotivated.” Ignorant people love to throw those words around, don’t they?
No. I spend my days semi-horizontal because moving around causes unbearable pain. Trust me; I would effing love to get out of this chair. I want to plant seeds. I want to see a movie. I want to grab a burger and fries.
But I spend my days in this chair, because it hurts to move, and because the noise, light, movement, and bullshit outside overloads my brain. It goes into shutdown mode so I can’t cope.
That isn’t a choice I make; that’s a neurological short-circuit. And anyone who doesn’t get that, and still thinks I’m lazy, can kiss my big, fat, disabled chair-sittin’ ass.
How’s that for pride, right? LOL
I don’t put up with idiots, no I don’t. Close-minded fools make me crazy. If others can’t take a second to examine my situation, and instead just want to throw a label? I don’t grant them a second of my time, either. I throw a label right back: idiot. Come back when you have some empathy or compassion. ‘Til then, this is my space. Get out.
I wasn’t always this harsh. I used to let people walk over me. I used to be “nice.” But assholes ruined it. You can only be walked on for so long, before you get tired of it.
It was exhausting. Always offering a smile when people judged me. Apologizing for myself, for things I couldn’t fix, for “faults” that were not choices I made. This illness was something that happened to me. It wasn’t directed by some deity, it wasn’t the outcome of some bad habits. It was a virus that never got better.
(And even if the illness did come from “bad habits,” it still would never be another person’s place to judge. That is not their right. Full stop.)
You cannot just “snap out of it” or “feel better” when an illness is draining every ounce of your soul. You cannot just leap out of your chair and dance around doing chores. You cannot even answer email, when your entire nervous system barely operates. It’s like asking a computer to do quantum math with the GPU offline.
I am so goddamn tired.
So yeah. I’m disabled. I own it; I accept it. And I love myself.
Anybody who’s got a problem with that, has got a problem with me. I am unashamed and ready to take them down.
This whole society is built on shaming the poor, sick, and desperate. I think it’s time we all stood up and said, “You know what? Shame on you, instead. You heartless fucks.”
It’s time for things to change.
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