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giantkillerjack · 1 year ago

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Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

[plain-text version of this post can be found under the cut]

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

Plain-text version:

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

P.S. Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

#hlep #original #mental health #my sympathies and empathies to anyone who has to rely on this kind of hlep to get what they need.#the people in my life who most need to see this post are my family but even if they did I sincerely doubt they would internalize it #i've tried to break thru to them so many times it makes my head hurt. so i am focusing on boundaries and on finding other forms of support #and this thing i learned today helps me validate those boundaries. the example with the milk was from my therapist.#the example with the towing company was a real thing that happened with my parents a few months ago while I was age 28. 28!#a full adult age! it is so infantilizing as a disabled adult to seek assistance and support from ableist parents.#they were real mad i was mad tho. and the spoons i spent trying to explain it were only the latest in a long line of #huge family-related spoon expenditures. distance and the ability to enforce boundaries helps. haven't talked to sisters for literally the #longest period of my whole life. people really believe that if they love you and try to help you they can do no wrong.#and those people are NOT great allies to the chronically sick folks in their lives.#you can adore someone and still fuck up and hurt them so bad. will your pride refuse to accept what you've done and lash out instead?#or will you have courage and be kind? will you learn and grow? all of us have prejudices and practices we are not yet aware of.#no one is pure. but will you be kind? will you be a good friend? will you grow? i hope i grow. i hope i always make the choice to grow.#i hope with every year i age i get better and better at making people feel the opposite of how my family's ableism has made me feel #i will see them seen and hear them heard and smile at their smiles. make them feel smart and held and strong.#just like i do now but even better! i am always learning better ways to be kind so i don't see why i would stop

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sp0o0kylights · 1 month ago

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“Dustin isn’t coming.”

“What?” Eddie says, all frantic and jovial movements freezing instantly.

His eyes narrow on Lucas--the bearer of bad news. “Why?”

“Family emergency.”

Mike makes a face. “I saw his mom yesterday and she was fine, so is this a…?”

He makes a gesture that is entirely incomprehensible to anyone who isn’t Sinclair and his terrifying girlfriend.

(At least, Eddie thinks Max is Lucas’s girlfriend this week. It got a little hard to keep up after the third break-up-make-up marathon, and he frankly, stopped bothering to try.

It helped that she barely spoke--The only time notable being when Eddie had mockingly asked Sinclair if he needed a cheerleader when she’d first sat in, upon which she’d asked Eddie if he needed new kneecaps with a look in her eye that said she was serious.)

Wheeler Jr.’s gesture however, made her put her book down.

“You think he’s having migraines again?” She not so much asked as demanded, which had Mike shrugging.

“Dunno." Lucas says. "Dustin didn’t say.”

“Gotta be, if he called Dustin.” Mike mutters, Lucas shuffling his papers about as he begins to set up for Hellfire. He was the last in the room, practically late, which Eddie had planned on harassing him for had he not announced Henderson’s absence.

(Fucking freshmen. They just weren’t terrified of Eddie like they used to be.)

“Robin must be sick or something, otherwise he’d call her.” Lucas finishes as he finally sits down.

“Didn’t the Marching Band go on some trip?” Mike turns to address the rest of the table, and gets nods from Jeff and Gareth both.

“Yeah they’re marching in some parade in Indianapolis.” Jeff confirms.

“So his last resort was Dustin?” Max is getting that tone in her voice, the one that makes everyone at Hellfire very uncomfortable. “Typical.”

She pushes away from the table, making a show of gathering up her things before rising easily to her feet.

Eddie trades looks with the elder Hellfire members as she makes her exit--the kind that says they’re all going to be talking about this later.

They knew their freshmen had some weird obsession with the former King, of course, but Mayfield too?

What the hell was up with that guy?

At least Eddie thinks, right before things are once again shot to shit, they can go back to playing the game.

He can make it work this early into things, and if Henderson isn't’ a fan of what he’s about to do to the kid’s character in his absence, well.

Maybe he shouldn’t be fucking absent then.

“So what, Max, you're gonna go over there and make it worse?” Mike snorts.

Fatal mistake.

Eddie almost strangles him for it, if only because it prolongs this entire unnecessary conversation.

Max performs a military perfect heel turn, coming straight back for Wheeler Jr., which makes him right about fall out of his seat in panic.

“What was that, Wheeler?”

“I’m just saying--!”

“We don’t know Steve’s having migraines.” Lucas reiterates, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Maybe it’s something else.”

“Does Steve get migraines a lot?” Grant asks, because despite all appearances he’s a terrible gossip and gets sucked in far too easily.

Eddie throws a pencil at him for it.

“Hel-looo, we have a game!?” He thunders, but unfortunately for him, precious Stevie-Weavies headache now has everyone’s attention.

“Yeah, though he’s really good at pretending he doesn’t.” Lucas answers with a put upon sigh.

“There’s a whole pattern--he ignores it until it gets super bad, then he has to call Robin or Dustin to come get him when he inevitably gets stranded at work or the like, grocery store.”

“Well who else do you think he’d call?” Mike scoffs again. He does a lot of that, when discussing Harrington. “It’s not like his parents are--Ow, Max!”

“Close your mouth before I close it for you.” She hisses and Mike, shockingly, does just that.

To Eddie, she says;

“Your ass isn’t any better, or did you forget I live across from you?”

Eddie--who had an insult primed and ready--promptly shuts his mouth.

(Fucking! Asshole! Freshmen!)

“Maybe I should go too.” Lucas says, hedging a look between his girlfriend and his DM.

“No.” She snaps, pointing a finger at him.

“If you go, then this idiot,” she flicks her finger to Mike, “will go and then we really will make it worse. Stay here before your bichon frise has a fit about all his sheep abandoning him.”

Then she’s turning on her heel again, storming out.

“What the hell’s a bichon frisé?” Gareth asks in the aftermath, frowning.

“It’s a type of ahhhh--” Jeff clearly thinks better of the explanation, eyes sliding to Eddie.

Who’s scowling.

“I know what a bichon frisé is, Jeff.” He snaps.

“I don’t.” Grant loudly complains.

Jeff attempts to both calm Eddie and explain while Mike and Lucas spend far too many minutes looking after Max.

“Enough!” Eddie howls, temper finally getting the best of him. “Are we playing or do you also need to go sit by the King’s bedside?”

“Thank you,” Mike says, like he wasn’t a third of the entire problem. “Let’s play!”

They make it about ten entire minutes before getting knocked off track again.

In fairness, not that Eddie would ever admit it--the second meltdown is his own fault.

xXx

Hellfire is Eddie’s domain.

It’s one of the few places where he could relax without getting harassed or hounded, and having his freshmen--his!--abandon him for King Fucking Steve had set him off.

So he’d made a few comments about it.

Maybe introduced an NPC who sounded suspiciously similar to Harrington, only to instantly kill him off.

Made another couple of nasty comments.

Who cares? It worked him through his snit rather nicely, and his boys all knew to leave him be.

Except, apparently, for Lucas.

“Dude, would you lay off?” The kid finally snaps, pencil slamming down on the table.

Which is the most backbone-like thing anyone has ever heard Sinclair say, and he gets far more whistles for it than he should.

Eddie pins him in place with a glare.

“What was that Sinclair?” He snarls, voice as menacing as he can make it.

(It’s pretty terrifying, he’s practiced quite a bit with it.)

Sinclair flinches, but doesn’t back down.

“I said lay off. Steve has migraines because of--” He stops, before seeming to come to a decision. “Because of me. He took a hit for me, and I owe him a life debt for it.”

To Eddie, he says; “You get what those are, right?”

Mike rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t just for you--”

“That time with Billy was!” Lucas is quick to snarl. “But you know what Mike, you’re right. It wasn’t just for me. He T-boned a car for all of us!”

Sinclaire is on his feet now, which is the unfortunate moment that Eddie realizes he has once again lost control of the room.

A situation he firmly blames on Steve Harrington, because he’s petty.

“Or did you forget that part? That’s you, me, Will, Nancy and Jonathan right there! Nevermind the tunnel. Or the junkyard!

“We had the junkyard handled--”

Lucas scoffs.

“We absolutely did not.”

“I don’t get why you’re all making such a big deal out of this. He’s the fighter. That’s what he does. That’s why we brought him to the tunnel.”

“You recall what happened at Starcourt, right?” Lucas challenges, furious. “You did see him after, right?”

This, finally, seems to shut Mike up.

“Shouldn’t you be mad at him for that?” He says after a moment, and the rest of Hellfire has completely put aside all actual gaming to watch this play out with a morbid sort of fascination.

Eddie allows it, only because he’s trying to breathe the way Wayne taught him to before he loses it entirely and throws both of the idiot kids out of the drama room.

“He pulled your sister into it.”

“Have you met Erica!? You can’t pull her into shit!” Lucas spits furiously. “That wasn’t D&D, Mike. It was the Upsi--real life.”

Lucas is quick to correct himself, even in the heat of the moment--as all the kids are, like the entire school hasn’t clocked that they have some weird ass secret they’re terrible at hiding.

“And if we’re playing those games, then who pulled him into the tunnels? Who made him come to the junkyard?”

“Dustin.” Mike says snidely.

“You don’t get to blame Dustin when Steve was the only person around.”

“There were people around! They just weren’t people who--weren’t--who couldn’t--”

“Finish that sentence.” Lucas demands

“Be trusted.” Mike spits out, like it hurts him.

“Exactly.”

“El went through way more than Steve ever has! El--”

“El was using her po--doing mage things! And also, she shouldn’t have had to go through all this shit either! We can’t rely on her to save the day every single time, Mike--and look at how hurt she gets!”

“She--”

“She hides it from you, you know. How bad she hurts. Cause she wants to put your feelings first.”

“I--”

“Will does too.” Is Lucas’s parting shot. His backpack is in his hands in a blink, papers and character figure shoved wildly into it, before he’s storming out the door in a poor mimicry of Mayfield.

“Harrington T-Boned a car?” Grant says, in the resounding silence.

“That BMW of his hasn’t had a scratch on it--” Jeff says, with an inquisitive tilt to his head.

“He didn’t use the Beamer.” Mike interrupts, angry and sulking. “Are we playing or not?”

“I’m gonna say not, given we are down two players.’ Eddie tells him through clenched teeth.

“I’m going to be so mad if Steve doesn’t have a migraine.” Mike grumbles, as he begins packing up his stuff.

The rest of Hellfire follow his lead, after one look at Eddie’s face convince the lot of them that it’s best to flee now, before Eddie unleashes all his pent up rage.

“Not as mad as I’ll be, Wheeler.” Eddie promises darkly.

And it is a promise--because now, he’s going to follow all his stupid (sans Mike, who isn’t in his good graces either but at least stayed) freshmen--and go visit one fallen King.

If Harrington doesn’t have a headache now, he will when Eddie’s done with him.

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