Invalidating My Vulnerability

I’m scared, like usual. This time it’s because I’m about to apply for permanent income compensation and this is super difficult to be approved for, meaning that I have to prepare for many years of fighting with lawyers and doctors. It’s a process with a big risk of a permanent worsening of my disease (Myalgic Encephalomyelitis, ME) and it’s a very painful reminder of how vulnerable I am. Since so many people still don’t get how awfully harmful these procedures are, I want to write about this openly. I want to write about it to give people a better picture of what austerity does, since that’s one of the few things I can to to contribute to a political change. However, I’ve come to a point where I don’t think I can, because the reactions I get from people are so painful to read.

One of the most common reactions I get is that people give me advice I never asked for. Bad advice. Advice suggesting that I do something that is either totally inapplicable or very basic, meaning that I’ve already thought of it. This is terribly hurtful and even though I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about why and come to some conclusion, I’m still having a hard time grasping it. The other day though, something hit me: It’s about denied vulnerability.

When people give me advice I didn’t ask for just because I’m trying to describe and understand my reality, I feel invalidated. I’m trying to close in on my own vulnerability and fear, trying to articulate it, undrstand it, make room for it, and all that bad advice become an obstacle to that. Because if your simple advice actually were good solutions, then I wouldn’t be this vulnerable.

The abled world is constantly trying to deny the subordination and vulnerability of people like me, by pretending that disabled people and chronically or long term ill people aren’t treated as bad as we are. When people deny my reality to the point where I can hardly see it myself, it makes it very hard to deal with. I invalidate myself and can’t understand or process my feelings.

I live in a place where a lot of people still think that we have a safety net if you get ill or disabled. We used to have that but it has been crumbled more and more for around fifteen years and by now, there’s really not that much left of it. I grew up being taught that we have a safety net and unlearning that and realizing that no, it’s not me who’s ill the wrong way or not really disabled is a very difficult process. I’m trying to close in on my own vulnerability and make that elusive sense of exposure to danger more tangible and less confusing, but when people deny my reality, it gets too hard.

Advertisements

Denied Disabilities, Denied Needs, Denied Accessibility, Denied Identity

Dear abled world who is constantly trying to rob me of my identity, this is for you.

 

I’m autistic, I need predictability to be able to navigate. My need for predictability is not an access need to you. My disability is denied. My reality is denied.

I can’t walk more than a few meters, and usually I need crutches. My ability to walk is impaired compared to what people in my age are expected to be able to do. This is usually seen as a valid disability, and my need for wheelchair accessible buildings is most of the times treated as a legitimate access need. My reality is validated.

I have ME. It’s a disease that has caused my inability to walk. Being ill with ME has also given me a shortage of mental energy, and I can’t focus for very long. This is a cognitive disability, but it’s rarely recognized. It’s the kind of disability that does effect my ability to perform in many areas, like speaking with my mouth and processing sounds. This is never recognized as a valid disability. My need for written communication isn’t considered an access need. My disability is denied. My reality is denied.

I have ADHD. I always think of at least 8 things at the same time. It’s exhausting to exist, and I need a lot of quiet time on my own without anything disturbing me. This is rarely seen as a disability. My needs are denied. My reality is denied.

I’m autistic. I need people to say what they mean and stop the camouflage talk, since it exhausts me to decipher and translate non-autistic language all the time. This is never considered an access need. My disability is denied. My reality is denied.

My body is too weak to stand up from the bath tub after having washed my hair. I need a handle bar on the wall and a shower chair to sit on. For occupational therapists that don’t know what ME and POTS are, this access need doesn’t exist and my reality is denied. With occupational therapists that have knowledge about ME and POTS, this access need is recognized and met. My disability is validated. My reality is validated.

I’m autistic. I interpret information differently than what people expect me to do. I interpret myself and my feelings autisticly. I think autisticly. I need to be understood as an autistic person, but that’s not considered an access need. My disability, personality and identity is denied. My reality is denied.

People tell me that I’m not allowed to identify with my disabilities, that I’m not my disabilities. Sometimes people tell me that I’m my disabilities shouldn’t affect my capability, that all I need is some accommodations and I should be able to perform like a person without disabilities. But I am my disabilities. I’m autistic, remember? My disabilities are lived experiences. The way I think and interpret information, it’s not possible to not be my disabilities, but I’m not even allowed to own my identity as disabled without the abled world trying to correct me.

What counts as a disability or as an access need is rarely obvious and just as rarely decided by us, the people with the lived experiences of disability. Pretending that everybody is agreeing on what a disability and a met access need looks like is nothing more than an efficient way to silence disabled people.

I Just Want to Be Safe

Content: This post includes thoughts on safety, fear, threats and abuse related to ableism

 

I hope I’m just having a bad day. Like, I really, really hope that this will pass soon.

Because I’m falling.

In some aspects I’m safer now than I was before, and that’s great and totally terrifying. When I’m finally a little bit safer, the thought of going back is so scary that I almost wish the temporary safety away. Because I can’t go back.

But I will be unsafe again soon. One of the bigger threats is on its way back. There’s nothing I can do about it. In a month, it’s starting again.

I can’t. I can’t do this.

My mind is preoccupied with the idea of ever feeling safe. People think that my highest wish is to not be ill anymore but it isn’t. Because even if there’s a cure for ME one day, I could still be ill again. I will still be disabled. In an ableist world, that means being very unsafe.

I just want to feel safe. I just want to live a life without the constant threat of abuse.