kishorzeabros

[fibro-memes]

[ieatratsforbreakfast]

I need a hug from every disabled person ever right now.

I'm going through a really rough patch with my ME/CFS and chronic pain, and I'm still coming to terms with the fact that I'll most likely need to start using a wheelchair before 2025.

Can every disabled person hug me rn? Like virtually just have a little disabled moment.

[crippleswag]

mutual aid request

[pt: mutual aid request. end pt]

hi i am a physically disabled person who struggles with severe chronic pain and i have my MRI on monday but i dont really have money to get to it since they scheduled it at a hospital further away than my regular hospital which is significantly closer 🥲. this is a really important appointment and i really dont wanna cancel it..

i think i should be able to get there and back if i could get 500SEK (~50$) for gas, and if you are unable to give anything because you aren’t financially stable that’s is absolutely okay & please dont give anything if it’ll fuck up ur own economy!! but if you are unable to donate, please reblog this, every rb helps 🤍 every dollar helps and you don’t have to give anything huge amounts, it adds up, thank you!🤍

here’s the link to my paypal

0/50$

[pt: 0/50$. end pt]

[moonlit-hexes]

Witchcraft Practice & Disability

I have often struggled and grappled a lot with the concept of my practice being able to co-exist with my disabilities. I have been practising witchcraft since before I was made aware of my disability, but my disability sure themselves aware throughout my practice.

From being unable to get up, plan or do Anything for major events and days, to the simple mundane task of going up to my altar and saying thanks to all my spirits. Every single task was dictated or rather, negated by my disability and my being unable to function or do anything.

The only discourse for the same is a persistent reminder of, "meditate everyday only then are you a witch," "you cannot be a witch unless you have a daily routine and do something everyday" and the list just goes on.

When will we are a collective talk about how such ideas are rooted in sheer ableism and the capitalistic idea of constantly working and being active? Rest is objectively a part of the cycle of nature, periods where we flourish and are active and others when we rest.

Why are we not allowed to extend the same to our bodies and our spirit?

And this is not to say that all spirits and deities you will be working with, will be okay with you vanishing for months on end. Unfortunately promises and oaths made to the spirits do not follow the same rules for disabilites. THere are deities and your spirit team that might excuse you and give you that time, but not every spirit you make a contract or contact with are obligared for the same. They are not obligated to stay or do anything in the period that they are not being fed or given something in return. And that is okay. That is why we bite how much we can chew.

But that is in very specific situations, with very specific spirits. you are not ruining yourself or your practice by not being active for a week or for months.

Your disability does not make your practice "armchair witchcraft" (i really bloody hate that phrase).

You are allowed to take breaks. You are allowed to come back later. You are allowed to mourn being unable to practice when you wanted to. And you are allowed to ask for grace and time from your spirit team and deities.

You practice is your own and it is horrifying the policing other, non-disabled, able-bodied and neurotypical witches feel entitled to.

If you are one of them, clearly, this space and post are not for you. If you do not understand how people go months and years away from their practice, then this is also clearly not for you.

I want to talk more about what can be done during the major periods of breaks, and what not to do. This is not to throw shade at the posts that talk about - pulling 1 card from your bed because sometimes even the energy for that is lacking. (and that is for future posts)

We are disabled. We have needs. We will take up space.

And a special fuck you for the people who believe that taking medications will "hamper" your intuition.

I would love for other disabled witches to also share about their experiences and how they navigate these periods <3

Happy witching to you and a protective period of Samhain for your loved ones ✨🎃🍂

[itsbansheebitch]

More than missing the point

Listen, I'm not a Halsey fan. But I have had chronic pain and the fact that both Pitchfork and Anthony Fantano have called her latest album which is all about her getting her cancer diagnosis "edgy" "childish" "too much" "angsty" "dramatic" and "insufferable" is UNHINGED.

Saying that these songs, about a mother scared to leave behind her 3 year old and how lucky she is to be alive is "giving main character syndrome" is genuinely depraved. It is so insanely cruel I am genuinely shocked that someone with a following like this who is considered to be a relatively reliable reviewer would post.

Seriously, imagine telling a cancer survivor that they are "playing the victim." Songs on the album talk about how people (specifically men) called her dramatic when she started having health issues. Now, both Pitchfork AND Anthony Fantano call her album where she talks about it "too much" and "dramatic." She literally talks about how people assumed she was on drugs when she was getting medical treatment.

Anthony gave Katy Perry's latest album a higher score than Halsey's, which he gave a ONE.

[chronically-mars]

I hate being unreliable as a chronically ill and disabled person.

I hate that I never know when my disability will get so bad it prevents me from working and that’s terrifying for me to think about. Especially when so many people count on me.

Sometimes it scares me that I’m so young but it’s so hard to work with my health conditions sometimes, as is I never rest because resting while being chronically ill isn’t resting, it’s pain/symptom prevention.

PLEASE support your chronically ill and disabled loved ones. They’re trying their hardest to be reliable and to finish everything that needs to get done but there will be days where we simply can’t.

[atimesfeeler]

I loved @twilightkitkat 's post SO MUCH I just had to add to it. It reminded me of a fic I'm working on rn.

I especially liked the part with Vanessa because I don’t think she just left him because of the reason Wade thinks. She didn’t just want him to be a superhero or whatever- in the flash back, she’s begging him to open up to her, to be present, to let her help him and I don’t thinks Wade could do it.

He felt like, incorrectly, that he couldn’t burden her with it. He has so much baggage and pain and issues, and he can’t corrupt her with that. He had cancer and instead of spending his last days with her, he left her. And when he survived he avoided her until she was literally kidnapped.

Everyone thinks Logan runs but really Wade does. He doesn’t want the people he loves to know he’s in pain. At his birthday party, he’s obviously miserable but everybody’s together! And smiling! So he’s going to be happy and pretend he’s just fine. But he’s not even very good at hiding it bc, like mentioned before, it’s a little bitter. His jokes don’t land or they come out passive aggressive and tense. But nobody calls him out for it except Logan. Logan who tells him in the meanest way that he’s a clown but that he’s sad, pathetic, and attention starved. He’s not buying the clown act.

And when Logan moves in, I love the idea that he starts noticing Wade when his mask falls or he gets too tired to pretend.

I’m writing a fic where Wade deals with chronic pain in less healthy ways and, of course, he tries to hide it. It's more brief and censored on tumblr bc I don't want to get my account terminated again, but it will be more detailed on ao3.

…

He dealt with it in other ways. The pain.

After all, a little bit of death couldn’t hurt, right?

Treating himself gently only sometimes worked. If he did everything right, if he did all the steps then maybe, maybe it would ease up. Sleep well, wake up at the right time, eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner, draw a scalding bath, and take some hard hitting drugs.

Most days, Wade was much more impatient. Most days, Wade failed. It was too hard to take care of himself when waking up felt like dragging himself up from glacier water and pounding on the underside of the ice. Cooking was a nightmare he didn’t even want to consider tackling, and he was rarely patient enough to wait for the bath to fill or for sleep to take him as his body wracked with pain.

There were faster, easier, more instant ways of relieving the pain.

Any pain that didn’t stem from his own body was good.

With Vanessa, Wade had tried the healthy way. The three meals, ten hours of sleep, and taking his vitamins. The whole mile. There was this urge he constantly resisted that told him it would release the tension in his skull if he carved under his eye into his cheek where the migraine pulsed, like he was some sort of fucked up carpenter with voices in his head.

Vanessa didn’t understand it. If he was in pain, why would he want to be in more? She understood his masochistic tendencies in bed where they mixed pain and pleasure, but just pain? Just harm for the sake of being harmed? They got into a lot of fights about it.

He resisted the attempts. Hid them from her where he could. Sometimes he’d miscalculate, and she’d walk into the bathroom before he could heal and clean up his brain splattered on the bathroom tile. She hated it, and Wade hated that he was hurting her.

He reeled back any anger or snippy comments that stemmed from the sheer newness of having his body feel like it was dying all the time. It was so hard to interact when pain rippled through him like a feedback chamber. It made his fuse short and curt. His witty remarks turned snappish and bitchy. People asked stupid questions and made even stupider comments when he was having a Bad Pain Day, and everything felt a bit more raw and oozing. Wade didn’t have the energy to keep up the act and while his mind rarely stopped running, it shifted into something darker when pain was on his mind. His jokes fell flat, laced with a bitter ending. Sometimes, Wade didn’t even want to talk. He wanted to punch someone. Maybe even himself. And every time he snapped or said something he didn’t mean, he wanted to hurt himself even more.

Quickly, he grew exhausted putting on a brave face, and he had never been good at letting people help him. There was this awful clash of wanting to be comforted by the people he loved and hating that he needed comfort. It made him feel weak and pathetic, and Wade already hated so much about himself that he didn’t want anyone to see the twisted, fucked up parts of him. How ironic that he always had an audience anyway. He couldn’t hide it from you or whoever was watching him those days, but he could hide it from the people he loved. Shield them from it, almost.

On Bad Pain Days, Wade didn’t want anything to be different. He didn’t want to acknowledge the pain he dealt with, and seeing that pity on her face set his teeth on edge. It both hurt to be babied and, later, it hurt to be ignored when he stubbornly insisted he was fine.

Obviously, it didn’t work out.

It was better with Al.

Al tried to help. Once or twice. Her motherly instincts kicked in, maybe, Wade didn’t know. He shot himself once in front of her while they were watching the Bachelorette together, and she cursed him out and told him to stop and never do it again. Wade took his little attempts to the bathroom after that. He cleaned up after himself. He went out. Wade tended not to do the more dramatic methods that draw attention.

Wade had it down to a science. A decent chunk out of his frontal lobe sent Wade into a pleasant, almost subspace-like place. He would just… float and forget that his body hurt all that bad. It was good for Bad Brain DaysTM too when Wade’s thoughts were louder, faster than normal, and the voices stopped sounding like himself. When the fourth wall was a little too easy to see, and it got to him, being the doomed comic relief, when his head was trying to split his consciousness in two.

If his temporal lobe was nicked, then Wade would start hallucinating and hear a banger of a song while time, space, and movement sort of fucked up for a second. It felt like getting high, but he didn’t need an entire bag of cocaine and to hot box weed to get there.

If something happened to his parietal lobe, the pain wouldn’t know where to go. A bear could literally be eating his insides, but the pain signals couldn’t register if they had nowhere to go.

He did most of his questionable coping methods in the stereotypical bathroom spot. It was private, and Al got onto him for getting blood and bits all over the apartment. He once left his liver or his kidney in the kitchen sink, and Althea threatened to call the cops on him - her coke stash be damned. Now he’d drape himself in the empty tub, play music loudly, and expertly deal with the pain.

The system he had was fine. Regulated. It was working. It was fine. It wasn’t going to get any better.

Until Logan.

...

I haven't posted it on ao3 yet, but it will be apart of the series for my fic where Wade cries in the Honda instead of fighting.

[fibro-memes]

[thesanctuarysys]

friendly reminder that your worth as a person is not dictated by your productivity at life or school or work. your worth is dictated by the fact you are a living breathing creature who has thoughts and feelings.

[crippleswag]

chronic pain is so fucking evil what do you mean it doesn’t stop

[nondivisable]

I need to say something and I need y'all to be calm

if it isn't actively bad or harmful, no representation should be called "too simple" or "too surface level"

I have a whole argument for this about the barbie movie but today I wanna talk about a show called "the babysitters club" on Netflix

(obligatory disclaimer that I watched only two episodes of this show so if it's super problematic I'm sorry) (yes. I know it's based on a book, this is about the show)

this is a silly 8+ show that my 9 year old sister is watching and it manages to tackle so many complex topics in such an easy way. basic premise is these 13 year old girls have a babysitting agency.

in one episode, a girl babysits this transfem kid. the approach is super simple, with the kid saying stuff like "oh no, those are my old boy clothes, these are my girl clothes". they have to go to the doctor and everyone is calling the kid by her dead name and using he/him and this 13 year old snaps at like a group of doctors and they all listen to her. it's pure fantasy and any person versed in trans theory would point out a bunch of mistakes.

but after watching this episode, my little sister started switching to my name instead of my dead name and intercalating he/him pronouns when talking about me.

one of the 13 years old is a diabetic and sometimes her whole personality is taken over by that. but she has this episode where she pushes herself to her limit and passes out and talks about being in a coma for a while because of not recognizing the limits of her disability.

and this allowed my 9 year old sister to understand me better when I say "I really want to play with you but right now my body physically can't do that" (I'm disabled). she has even asked me why I'm pushing myself, why I'm not using my crutches when I complain about pain.

my mom is 50 years old and watching this show with my sister. she said the episode about the diabetic girl helped her understand me and my disability better. she grew up disabled as well, but she was taught to shut up and power through.

yes, silly simple representation can annoy you if you've read thousands of pages about queer liberation or disability radical thought, but sometimes things are not for you.

[bl0w-m3]

[wishful-seeker]

I would like to see more people talk about how jobs treat disabled employees.

I used to prep, wash dishes, and cook at mellow mushroom. I had chronic pain that wasn't NEARLY as bad as it is today, but it was still very debilitating. I told my employer "i cannot stand more than 4 to 6 hours. I CANNOT do shifts longer than this due to my illness." And even though i made my boundaries VERY clear, everyday i worked it was 8 hours at the least and 10 or 12 at the most. I would go up to my manager and say "look i really need to leave, my shift is over, my chronic pain is killing me." And he'd say "we really need to here, you HAVE to push through." And so i did, and after one, ONE month of that job my crps got incredibly worse to the point where i could no longer walk my dog around the block which was .5 miles. I quit, and that was FOUR years ago, and ever since that day I HAVE BEEN BEDRIDDEN AND HAVE TO USE A WHEELCHAIR. It is my biggest regret in life.

My best friend who has seen my whole journey has recently developed undiagnosed chronic pain, and she is in the EXACT same scenario i was 4 years ago. Busting her ass at a pizza place with extreme pain that hurts her so much she tells me "im in so much pain i don't even feel like a person." She doesn't feel LUCID. And her manager and coworkers are saying the same thing "if you don't help us you will let us down, we'll be in the shit."

That job thats hurting you isn't fucking worth it. I promise you no money is worth losing all your physical abilities and never getting them back. Your coworkers and boss do not give a shit about you, so don't you dare suffer for them. They will never understand your struggle and they will never try. They truly think being understaffed is worse than whatever pain you experience. They would rather you permanently damage yourself than inconvenience them. FUCK THEM. DON'T FUCKING DO IT!

[lupusbaby]

Some people don’t want to hear this but sometimes accessibility is not sustainable or eco-friendly. Disabled people sometimes need straws, or pre-made meals in plastic containers, or single-use items. Just because you can work with your foods in their least processed and packaged form doesn’t mean everyone else can.

[i-say-stupid-things]

what is it with able bodied people saying “get well soon” after you say that you’re chronically ill?? like? i am not gonna? and i once literally responded with “i’m not gonna, it’s chronic, as in permanent.” and they went like “oh well, hope you get better!” like bro 💀