I’ve unpacked, I’m almost there.
So close to grasping the source of my frustration.
My shame is turning into rage,
my direction is changing.
We never had a chance, but who am I to blame?
Me? You? Ableism?
How could I love you now?
I don’t want to miss you.
I’ve been writing about Liz recently. The memories of her have been haunting me, partly because I miss her, partly because there were a couple of things about our relationship and what happened that I could never grasp. Feeling confused in relationships is so common to me that I take it for granted, however, with Liz my confusion was worse than usual. (I have a problem with delayed processing, which means that it takes time for me to process and understand interactions. I come across as indifferent or cold when I don’t understand what’s going on in the moment.)
Yesterday when I was writing about her, one of the knots untangled. I could finally phrase a question that I’ve had the answer to for a while, but since I didn’t know what question I was asking myself the answer didn’t help much. My post from yesterday is called Would you love me as disabled? and that’s what I’m wondering. The very painful answer is no, I don’t think she would. At the moment I can’t say if this is a rational assumption or just my internalized ableism talking, but I don’t think she would have had much feelings at all for the disabled me.
Being with her was exhausting because I was so exposed, so bare, and still I tried to keep up the appearance of being the non-disabled version of me. It was an impossible mission and that’s probably why I froze so many times.
Content Warning: This post is about internalized ablelism.
I love you. I miss you.
Was there ever any life for us?
I was still trying to be normal. I was trying harder than ever to be the person I had created.
I failed. I melted. You kissed me. I cried.
We talked. You talked.
I listened like your voice was magic.
I hade so much to tell you but I choked and all the words got stuck. I was falling apart.
I couldn’t perform anymore.
I wrote poems that I deleted.
You wrote songs that you sent me.
Were those songs really for me, or did you want the artificial creation?
Would you have loved me if the meltdowns weren’t just a temporary glitch?
Would you love me now, without the ability to play the abled part?
I love you. I know it’s dangerous to admit it but it’s bedtime and as usual at this time, there’s nowhere to hide from the truth. I don’t know you anymore and it’s possible that you’re not the same person now as you were three years ago. But if you are, I still love you.
It’s strange how I can love two people with an intensity more painful than I can stand, but with two very different meanings of love.
Content Warning: Death
A friend of mine is going through something horrible and I feel so much for her. I wish I could do something to stop what’s happening but I can’t. Neither can she. I don’t want to spell out all the details but I can say as much as somebody very close to her is dying.
We have a couple of friends in common and it strikes me that it seems like my reaction is different from the others’. I’m not shocked anymore (I was the first days when we found out about the family member being severely ill) but now I’m not. The fact that this person probably will die is awful and makes me want to scream out loud in despair, but I don’t have a hard time believing that it’s true. Bad things happen, medicine can’t fix everything and people die.
It bothers me that I don’t react like the rest of our friends do. I wonder if I’m cold or indifferent, if that’s why I’m not shocked. Because even though I’m really sad about what’s happening, I’m a bit numb too. What’s worse is that I find it provoking that my friends seem to be so shocked. Rationally I understand it but I keep having really shameful thoughts about them being privileged without realizing it. The thing is, I know that’s not the case. I know some of them have lost people to uncurable diseases.
I’m thinking that this could be a case of delayed reactions. It happens to me a lot and it tends to get socially complicated, which means that I can’t share it with the people involved. So far, people have always misunderstood it and thought I was indifferent and I don’t want to go through the blaming scenario it has lead to in the past.
In these kind of situations, I wish I could relate to people in a different way. When something bad happens I end up lonely because I don’t follow the expected pattern.