Looking for Utopia

The other night I realized that more and more often I’m daydreaming (or more truthfully, sobbing and wishing out of fear and desperation) of waking up from this nightmare. I imagine myself waking up with a pounding heart but as I realize that it was just a bad dream, I calm down. Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen. This nightmare is reality. This nightmare is my life.

Read that again.

I consider my life a nightmare.

Not because of the pain or the other symptoms. Not because of the limitations that my disabilities and conditions cause. Certainly not because I have a child with a disability (my child is a gift and one of the biggest parts of the happiness in my life). My life is a nightmare because of ableism. Because I live in a world that makes our lives a living hell. A nightmare.

Let’s go back to my daydreaming. What do I imagine that my life is like when I wake up and this horror is just a bad dream? First of all, my child is being respected for the person he is. He attends a school that’s treating him well, not trying to make him less autistic or hurting him by being inaccessible. This is the most important part but also the one that’s easiest to describe.

Then what? That was about my child, but what’s my life like in my daydream? Honestly, this is too hard to even try to write about, because spelling it out will make me face how unhappy I am with a lot of things. Therefore, I won’t write about what I really, really, really wish for. I can tell you as much as for me to not consider my life a nightmare anymore, I will have to have bodily anatomy. In my daydream, there’s no threat of having to undergo medical testing and examinations that will cause me harm. I have the right to say no without losing my financial support. Nobody will have the power to force me into medical procedures that will harm me.

That’s as much as I’m ready to display for now. To be continued, I hope.



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