#i am in fact disabled by that chronic illness which is why i call myself disabled.

[kerosene-saint]

reminder that chronically ill and disabled are not the same thing, you can be disabled and chronically ill but you can also be chronically ill and not disabled and disabled and not chronically ill

[witchesofvaliant]

My Take on Worshipping & Working with Ares

(Disclaimer: "My take" means my personal opinion and deriving heavily from my own experience.)

I work with Ares primarily in Shadow Work, and worship/work with him heavily in my practice.

1: The Misconceptions

I see a lot of "I work with Ares, so I work out all the time for him", and while exercise is wonderful for the body, and I myself love to get in a good walk, I have never devoted that to Ares. I am not saying you shouldn't, but the reason I mention it at all is the fact that many people equate working with Ares or those who do as muscle-headed gym bros who are always having to exercise or have to prove their masculinity. As a computer nerd who doesn't have exercise in their daily life and has chronic disabilities/illness that make that harder, I just don't do that. If I can, I take a good long walk for an hour or two about twice or once a week (if I can), that's mostly as far as it goes. In terms of proving my masculinity? Why? Let's dispense with the antiquated gender roles that say we have to assign the tough masculine aura to the cis guys. I am a trans male who has no issue looking feminine and being both a Queen and a King, that's just how it is. Ares can tell me himself if he has an issue with it, but he never has. And after getting to know him for some time, personally, he's not the type to give a fuck about your gender presentation. That also means, you don't have to be a guy to work with him, as I have also seen before.

Now, if we're trying to be true to the ancient Greek times, he was the primary deity worshipped in Sparta, and once the Romans adopted (which is putting it nicely) the Greek deities into their belief system, Mars was used as the primary deity equivalent to Zeus (Jupiter as he was called), with the common epithet to represent him being Mars Ultor, basically a title of greatness and power for him. He was used to inspire and push young men in those times toward a great strength and motivation in terms of military service as that was a greater focus in their culture than it was in the Greek culture (Not that the Greeks couldn't fight of course, they had their war deities, and Ares was one of them, but there IS a massive shift in the Greek and Roman mindsets when involving war, too much to get into). Now, here's where I stop, as I'm not an expert on Greco-Roman history and the two cultures, but it should demonstrate the point well at least on where these ideas so many people are spreading come from and why many think they're valid for everyone.

2: Worship

I tend to worship him by simple prayer. I take the knife I have and meditate with it, praying to him or simply talking. Sometimes, I don't even take the knife Lol. He's honestly a very simple person to deal with in my experience. You don't need to do fancy shit for him as devotional acts, he values respect and honor above all, so if you are giving that and offering this to him, he's a very pleased guy. I can't and don't use candles or fire in my practice, but my fire element/offering is going into a game and killing some bad guys. Is it semi-stereotypical in terms of the aggression? Kind of. Is it more focused on lessening my own stress and self-control so I'm taking my stress and anger out in a game than on people? Yes, and usually this isn't done FOR Ares, this is done more in terms of working on myself as agreed upon with Ares. Which goes into our next subject.

3: Work

Working with Ares is a huge part of my relationship with him (don't get me wrong, I love to just exist with him and listen to Fallout Boy too) but it's here where I have much more to say as I have always focused on Shadow Work in my life, and that only increased when I started my practice and my move away from the toxic Christianity I was raised with. Ares was not the first to work with me on this, and I had to work on some stuff myself just to be open to the idea of working with other deities. But in terms of Ares, he has been someone that I feel a strong connection to because of the heart, not my masculinity, not fighting others and exercising, but more because of the internal struggles and survival for my life I have had throughout my entire life. Be it with illness, my heart and trauma, or defending others, mainly my little brother, but all these thins took an internal struggle, not am external one. I find I work with him purely in terms of internal survival (either against physical or mental illness) and Shadow Work, which means understanding my heart, my will, and how to overcome the pain that has broken those things in my past. THIS part of him, is the part I rarely see anyone say anything about. Or everyone pairs him with Aphrodite and says this is their thing. I don't understand why it can't be him alone, I have hardly ever worked or dealt with Aphrodite, and while I give her respect and have given her my prayer, she is rarely there as my path just doesn't flow that way.

And also.. Why does no one talk about the fact that Ares can connect to illness too? In my opinion, he connects to illness through the issue of having to fight through it or even fight to keep someone alive.

I love embracing him as someone that doesn't require you to be a cis man with a six pack, or fight a literal war or fight other people just to work with him, and I really want to stress that you don't have to be these things, or change who you are as a person or fit into any requirement to work with him, and you don't have to do this with any deity either. You bring yourself first, that's all you truly need to bring to them, yourself and an open mind and ears to listen.

(Damn, this was long, hope people actually read this rant lmao)

If you got to the end, congratulations! And thank you for reading, I deeply appreciate that and you! 💖

[alullinchaos]

vent and a lot of thoughts below the read more related to illness (chronic illness) and disability

(large inhale. large exhale.) i try not to talk about being sick very much. for a variety of reasons mainly because I feel like the label of "chronically ill" doesn't belong to me. because all the people I see online who talk about being chronically ill are constantly dealing with symptoms, either due to their healthcare team not treating them properly or their symptoms not Being extremely treatable. I am lucky. I take my pill, one pill, every day and I am mostly okay. "mostly" okay, in that I can't run or exercise hardly at all. in that I feel extremely uncomfortable using a flight of stairs, and often am in pain when doing so at school (because of my backpack). in that I never know how much I'm going to sleep at night, that I often don't feel fully rested when I wake up. I am constantly experiencing some level of physical discomfort or pain, and while it is never something I can't just ignore, it does annoy me. this is not to mention the mental load of taking my medication. I have to take it an hour (at least) before I eat breakfast, so I wake up, take it, and go back to sleep. so every single day I have to ask myself if I remember taking it (hard to do so when you're half asleep and when it's the same every single time) and I stress about it a lot. my dose just got upped again even though I'm not sure it should've been but I don't feel comfortable starting a discussion with my provider about it. every time I see her (like I did earlier this week) the discussion is always the same. I never feel more informed. I never feel like I'm being properly treated, even though she's nice to me and I get my meds. this probably has something to do with the fact that she made me believe I had cancer for a month. not maliciously, she's just sort of incompetent. the thing about my medication is that at some point if I stop taking it I'll die, and I have no idea when that will be, but I assume if my dosage is getting upped again then that day is coming closer. I don't know if this means it's already hit. I'm almost at the number my friend gave me for their "severe" prescription, because they recently got diagnosed with the same autoimmune disorder I have, and they were given that dosage because they're "severe." so am I severe? I have no idea. obviously I will continue to take my medication. it makes my life substantially better. I can kinda do things now, which I couldn't before. but I think it makes a difference in my mind if it's me taking it because I don't want to feel like shit or if it's me taking it because I'll die otherwise, y'know? in a sense they are the same because if I go untreated then it'd lead to my death because of the effects on the rest of my body. but they are also very different, because looking out for the symptoms of Not Feeling Great as a way to know I forgot my medication vs. looking out for symptoms of About To Go Into a Coma and Possibly Die are very different things. i say all this and i barely feel comfortable calling myself disabled, because a lot of disabled people are people who can't be "helped" and i'm very sorry for them. i keep thinking about that post someone made about how they had two moms and then they were gay, and their experience being gay was totally different from what people normally have to deal with because of the total absence of homophobia or ignorance on the subject. and how identities shouldn't be defined by suffering. am I only disabled if I were to lose access to my medication? am I only disabled if someone is forcing me to run a ten minute mile and I collapse? I don't know the answer. I really don't. I'm not looking for comfort here, but any of my disabled mutuals (I know there's at minimum two of you) feel free to weigh in. I'm not an expert. also big disclaimer that my mom was disabled (which is why she died) so maybe my understanding of the world is warped as a result of that.

[threadedwheels]

ember and his health; an informative post

( aka - the fates hit Ember with a baseball bat called “illness” until he stopped moving )

cw for discussions of; physical and mental illnesses, minor ableism, chronic pain

While I’ve made a lot of mentions to Ember’s health, I promised myself I’d make an actual informative guide to direct people to for questions. As a quick piece of information about me: a lot of Ember’s relationship to his disabilities is based off of how I cope with it. I’m noting this because I don’t want to seem like I’m coming from a place of just “I wanted to cause this guy problems” and instead “I have never seen a disabled character who wasn’t babied and who wasn’t excused for actions because of their disabilities”.

I don’t have all of these things, namely I’ve never been diagnosed with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome (EDS) or Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS), so if there are any inaccuracies I apologize! I have a lot of overlapping symptoms which are the ones I tend to focus on. Also, I do not have a complete comprehension of the healthcare system in TWST, so I am making assumptions and kind of using the fact that Ember comes from a traditional and slightly isolated home as reasoning for any differences in canon vs what I am writing.

With that, lets get into it

- BODY -

Ember has something called Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, specifically the classical subtype. This affects the connective tissues in his body, making his joints hyper-mobile and unstable. It also causes his skin to be stretchy, something that isn’t mentioned as much, and causes him to scar a lot easier and worse than others. It’s genetic, he inherited it from his dad, and is something that will worsen throughout his life.

Ways in which this effects him includes:

- The use of mobility devices, namely his cane, crutches, and wheelchair.

- He almost always has all of his body covered, with the exception of occasionally wearing a turtleneck he cut the sleeves off of.

- He easily dislocates, sublexes, and sprains his joints- especially his legs and shoulders due to use.

A common comorbidity with EDS is POTS. This is what causes him to faint when he stands too fast. Essentially, his heart doesn’t get enough blood returned when he moves too fast and it will beat faster, usually requiring him to lay back down for a bit.

- MIND -

Ember’s mental health struggles, however, are not diagnosed. He isn’t fully aware of them himself. He has depression and is autistic.

For his depression, this is what causes him to not fully care for himself, come off as snippy, tending to isolate himself during lows. Until recently, he would successfully isolate himself, only interacting with others while working. I’ve made mentions in the past to this vaguely- namely in how his room is in a state of disrepair, he hasn’t been taking care of himself, and is quick to fight others. To him. this is simply an unfortunate part to being the next Oracle.

For his autism, he mainly is autistic because I myself am and I find it incredibly difficult to not write autistic characters. He’s more literal, causing his prophecies to be incredibly upfront and without much room for interpretation, doesn’t understand social cues, and has a special interest in death and magic.

- WHY DOES THIS MATTER ? -

If Ember was able bodied and neurotypical, he wouldn’t be himself. He is like this less because there’s evidence in the lore that he is twisted from and more because, as I mentioned, I wanted a character like him to exist. It matters because Ember, at his core, is someone who is struggling who will never admit it. Especially since being the Oracle already hurts his body.

[aviewfromtheclouds25]

This is a song I wrote almost a year ago, during the darkest time of my life. I was grieving for my mum and fighting daily abuse from the person who claimed to be my sister - the only relative I had left - in the place I used to call home, all while still battling chronic illness and disability. I have always turned to writing and music to transmute my pain back into love, the darkness back into light. So I wrote this song. And I want to share it with anyone who may be struggling, who may feel unable to admit how they're struggling for any reason. I was dealing with PTSD when I wrote this song; I hadn't opened up to anyone about the abuse I had been facing for months since my mum had passed away because I had no other family and no longer knew who I could trust. The only person I truly trusted was not able to be part of my life at that stage. It has been one heck of a journey this past year, but somehow I healed that PTSD and have even been reclaiming my physical health after years of chronic illness putting my life on hold. When my mum passed away, I vowed that I was going to get back to living and do a whole tonne of living for the both of us. And that's exactly what I've been doing. I cut my abuser out of my life for good, and then I reclaimed my life, myself and my voice. And I am very lucky and forever blessed to have had the biggest support and best cheerleader since reconnecting with the man I love (that one person I truly trust - we found a way to be part of each other's lives again. True love really does overcome all, folks. <3), my fiancé, who is my absolute rock and the man who has inspired every word I've ever written about love and soulmates on this blog. He is my eternal soulmate and I couldn't have got through all of this without him. <3

So I'm sharing this song here for anyone else struggling through hard times, who doesn't know how to open up or who to turn to. I'm sharing this song as a reminder that even in our darkest moments, none of us are ever truly alone. And that the only way to heal is to allow ourselves to truly feel.

When we disconnect from our pain, we disconnect from our hearts. When we disconnect from our hearts, we disconnect from ourselves. When we disconnect from ourselves, we disconnect from others. Leading to isolation, loneliness, apathy and total separation. As Rumi said, “The cure for pain is in the pain.”

Everyone is going through something. Some people talk about it. Some don’t. Some people talk about some things, but not others. None of that changes the fact that we are all going through stuff. Which is why we must all remember to show compassion, empathy and kindness to one another. To show humanity. After all, there can be no humanity without U-N-I-T-Y. We live in a capitalist rat race paradigm of a society controlled by fear and division, but there is far far more that unites us than divides us. This illusion of society would have everyone stand alone in apathy to continue their control through separation, but as individuals we can choose to stand together in the darkness and come to find that we ourselves are the light we all seek. Because the light is love, and love comes from unity. You can light an infinite number of candles with just one flame.

“We are here to awaken from the illusion of our separateness.” Thich Nhat Hanh

[spoonsforminutes]

UPDATE: i got dropped from IOP.

Honestly? I was fully expecting this outcome, and although I am frustrated that I won’t get an opportunity to ensure that my therapist personally changes her transphobic ideology, this is so much better for my physical and mental health. Misgendering hurts, and especially as someone with chronic pain, that hurt is both emotional and physical. I will often say that my trauma feels like I have an open shotgun wound in my chest, and each additional instance of misgendering feels like a stab to the gut. I’m somewhat mad at myself for not being able to defend myself in the moment, but that is not my fault nor my responsibility. I work in the research; I am WELL aware that many mental health facilities do not have LGBTQ-specific training, but I did get an opportunity to speak directly to the director of the outpatient program. I expressed both my personal concerns as well as future concerns for future patients, and thankfully he was very understanding, and ofc bc it’s me, he agreed with my points because I backed them up with research (which i found with a 5 min goggle search so there really is no excuse for mental health professionals to not be aware). He reassured me that not only did he share my concerns with his superiors, but training will be implemented to hopefully cover the basic aspects of keeping trans and queer individuals safe when receiving mental health treatment.

So although this sort of leaves me in a difficult spot, I actually feel more capable than I did when I first started treatment which I find kind of funny that it’s the people who hurt me that end up teaching me the most valuable lessons about my own worth. It might’ve been harsh to invoke the discrimination lawsuit, but it helped because my abuse specifically centered on the idea that my personal ideas, opinions, and interests were foolish and deserved to be mocked, even more so when my family members thought I was being too “gay” or “trans” or even “mentally ill.” So even though I can very much win an argument with sources and come to logical conclusions, my self-confidence is so low that I still doubt myself. That’s why I’m glad it was an issue with my gender identity because honestly? My therapist was also pretty ableist. She refused to validate the fact that I found empowerment with my chronic pain, instead calling me sad, and as with the entire medical system, DBT can be pretty ableist. I think regardless of disability, all people should approach medical professionals with the knowledge that they could be wrong and won’t admit it. Blindly trusting anyone, even someone who is supposed to take care of you and ensure your safety, can backfire. We need to trust people, so please continue putting your trust in others, but the moment they don’t show any concern for you, protect yourself and leave. It is never worth it to stay and suffer through a situation. 

Ultimately, in this political climate, marginalized people don’t have the luxury of being nice and waiting around for people to show us basic respect. Every time I am in a situation where pronouns are shared but I’m the only queer person in the room, I always tell people that I understand if you make mistakes and accidently misgender me. However, I can blatantly tell when someone is transphobic because it will either come from someone who is loud about their hate or from someone who believes they can get away with hate because “you aren’t like those other filthy queers.” I’m not apologizing if I find that I’m not in the mood to play rainbow capitalism BGF.    

So it’s gotten to that point. i’ve been receiving IOP from a mental health clinic, and my group trauma therapist is transphobic. Even more so, she’s been taking advantage of that fact that we unpack serious things in group settings, and I have a habit of dissociating to perpetuate her transphobic ideas in which it is my fault if i feel bad when someone misgender means. I have severe trauma from emotional abuse and neglect which only ended 6 months ago, at least in terms of my family having enough power and ignorance to believe that they were justified in the way they treated me, but i am still very much healing. I’m trying so hard to survive and get away from my abusive environment, but i’m realistic. i plan to move next year in jan, and in the midst of trying to pay all my bills and not go insane from the lack of financial freedom i have beyond necessities and bills, i’m trying to save as much as i can while also being nice to myself.

but today someone in my group was expressing distress over using a feminine term to refer to me when i’ve explained that i identify as transmasculine, and i was too busy doing something else, so my therapist took it upon herself to explain that it was my fault for feeling bad when people misgender me and that it is my responsible to correct people. which like, she’s a white cisgender woman who has trauma and is likely autistic so i’ve been giving her the benefit of the doubt, but no, she’s completely wrong. as a mental health professional currently in charge of my safety, she is directly endangering my health. i sent her an email after i processed what the fuck happened, and basically said this is your one warning to stop being transphobic and read up on all the ways your behavior threatens my physical and mental well-being, and if so necessary, i will seek legal action for discrimination. i have been gaslight a fuck ton so i have no confidence in myself, but my gut has been seeing all the news that more and more confirms the worst, and my c-PTSD symptoms are getting worse. history repeats itself, and i feel like i’m the one who recognizes the pattern except, you know, i’m part of the group that people currently want to see dead. and people praise me and treat me nicely bc they see an intelligent woman (which trauma-reinforced but also i fucking had top surgery last year????) but i think they view me as an “acceptable” queer person. which nooo, i did not spend so many years facing abuse literally just because i felt intense fucking pain that no one thought they could understand only for people in power to continue treating me like shit and then getting angry when i don’t roll over and die. i identify as a threat and a thing you do not want to cross. my years of sickness and illness mean that i don’t respect anything unless it has blood, sweat, tears, and defiance written all over it. you HAVE to feel pain to feel human, and all fucking pain is valid. i am so sick of watching a whole community of people being looked over and forgotten about, for even the “acceptable” ones of us having to beg for crumbs of decency. it’s inexcusable, and i legit do not give a shit for why we have to wait around for a bunch of people to decide that others get to live. i’m living NOW. DEAL WITH IT

[authorgeek]

Isolation

I think “Lonely” is the primordial emotion. The Mother feeling.  At least, perhaps, it is for me. I’ve been lonely my entire life, even and especially while surrounded by the people who care about me.

When I am very happy, the first thing I want to do is to call my best friend. Call my mother. I don’t want to sit in this good news or excitement alone. I want to share it. I want to spread it. I want others to celebrate with. Joy and happiness are only sweeter when shared with others who can join and partake in these things with you.

When I am very sad, I do not wish to sit in despair or lament on my own. I want support. I reach out in hopes others have needed wisdom or assistance, in hopes of community and understanding. Sadness becomes compassion. Despair, Empathy.

Likewise, when I am angry. I find without sharing it anger quickly turns to rage and wrath and resentment. Anger, when shared in community, can become organization. Motivation. Rage steps aside for action. Activism. Movement.

I have found I am not alone in this. Many people react this way when feeling any strong emotion at all.

Emotion, for me, can be a very physical, active, and tangible thing. I don’t just feel happiness, anger, or sadness. I am these things. I am happiness. I am anger. I am relaxed. I am fear. My chest burns. My heart rises to my throat or falls to my stomach. My eyes widen. My gut drops, tightens, relaxes, heats and cools. It’s embodied. It’s painful and aching. It’s balm to a wound, cool and relieving. My hands shake and my legs bounce and I cry and yell or cheer. I sigh and roll my eyes. I breathe. I unclench my jaw and lower my shoulders.

I have always felt everything deeply, intensely, fully. I cannot bring myself to apologize for this. Nor can I change it.

Perhaps it’s a bit like Tinkerbell is said to be. Fairies are so small they only have room for one emotion at once. When she is jealous of Wendy, this becomes all consuming and she embodies envy.

I’ve tried shrinking myself. I’ve tried hiding it. I’ve tried containing everything as best I could. It’s resulted in physical illness and excruciating pain. I don’t want to be palatable to others anymore. I don’t care to be consumable and neat or tidy. Above this, I want a healthy relationship with my internal and bodily self and how the two meld together.

I’ve been called self centered for this, but I pity and sympathize with those who feel this way - constantly setting themselves to the wayside, and taking their emotions out on others through name calling and accusation rather than face their own internal selves. They are deeply afraid at what they see, and it’s too painful to take on, so they choose to ignore and bury it rather than allow it to make itself known and move on. This is how generational trauma forms, and begins the cycles I am determined to break and will take part in no longer. Feeling things in their entirety, giving these emotions full recognition and space is a strength I’ve known few others to understand. People get angry when I insist upon taking up space for myself, but I’ve learned It makes my emotions easier to control, less explosive, and causes less physical and emotional turmoil. Along with the assistance of therapists and medication, which I admit - I am privileged to have access to.  

In fact, my intensity can be exhausting and draining to those who do not know how to take care of themselves this same way. I understand I can be a lot to handle, but I make no apologies for it because those who love me understand in order to handle this kind of intense emotional presence they must share it and be working towards like internal goals. Those who give themselves space for emotional care and self examination are less likely to be exhausted by me, and communicate clearer, kinder, and with more respect - what it takes to hold relationship and share an emotional bond with each other. This is why I share such undying and intense love for those who feel the same. My chosen family, my soul partners, my healers, companions and truest friends.

Above all of it, no matter what else I am temporarily feeling at the time, I am nearly always deeply and intensely lonely. Lately, this stems from physical isolation due to a combination of COVID and my own chronic illness. From the feeling of everything I once had planned, all my dreams and ideas and hopes for the future, being pulled out from under me both by personal illness and global pandemic. I watch others move on, go “back to normal”, gather and celebrate - and there is almost too much for even me to feel. Fear, at gathering again when so many are stubbornly unvaccinated. Jealousy, of the ability to do so, and deep pain, at seemingly being ignored and deserted through it all.

Though, of course, I am not alone in this experience whatsoever. Being politically marginalized as woman, disabled, and queer, I find so much in common with these communities, who are watching the same. We are forgotten in the same way, left behind for the same reasons. All while recognizing myself as privileged because I am white and educated. I know for a fact my experiences are not unique, and I am not alone. I recognize this, it is why I write. Why I speak out, refusing to stay silent for a single moment. Without my voice, even while aware I am not alone, I am going through all of this largely by myself. Therapy and meds can only do so much against such an actively, systemically hostile environment as the US currently is for marginalized people. The human body can only handle so much emotional pain. We can only experience/watch so much brutality. We can only ignore and fall deaf to so many cries for help.

I can turn off the news. I can shut off my socials. I can turn off my phone and deactivate my accounts. I can hide post after post all day long. It can only serve so well in the face of simply knowing, deeply, personally, that the violence and desertion and hostility does not go away just because you’re not seeing it anymore. All that means is that I’ve ignored one event - one shooting - one queer child being exiled from their home - one woman in danger - one more ableist rearing their ugly heads - one more needless death of an innocent person. I am sad. I am angry. I am afraid. For legitimate and real reasons. I am so far beyond being able to turn it off, ignore, bury, and pretend anymore. Without large scale cultural, political, and environmental change, everyone I share so much in common with will continue to feel this way.

And all of this makes me profoundly lonely. So this is me, doing what I do when feeling strong emotions. Speaking. Processing. Reaching out. Sharing. Communicating. Giving it space, exposing it in the light for what it is. Here it is, on the table, forced into the open, just like airing out any dirty laundry. It will not be allowed to hide or shrink, because I must be allowed to breathe.

And suddenly, it feels just a little easier to bear.

[newhologram]

I know only a few of you are on IG so I wanted to give an update here on the past few days. I am doing this knowing the potential risk but I need to also record where I'm at right now in case anything weird happens.

My week has been like this so far. Sunday: Family Member 1 misplaced their Xbox controller. They kept asking me if I knew where it was, each time growing more and more aggressive. I don't have an Xbox, I reminded them. I have my own controller for my PC. But they kept knocking loudly on my door. They followed me outside where I was vaping and tried to accuse me of I don't even know what. Pawning off their controller? FM1 said, "Is there something going on that you're not telling me? SOMEONE'S messing with me!" Later that night they and their gf were making dinner. FM1 suddenly knocked harshly on my door and said aggressively, "WHAT DID YOU DO WITH THE OVEN MITTS" in an angry voice. I was already stressed from them harassing me earlier about the controller. I came out of my room, heart racing, and told them I had not used them that day. I helped find the mitts, which had fallen behind the trash can because the hanging hook had broken. I went to bed on edge, feeling unsafe and targeted, wondering why my family member was suddenly acting so paranoid and accusing me of misplacing their things... Something they actually have done to me my whole life, denying it until the moment my item is found, when they suddenly remember they did move it there (or accidentally throw it out/destroy it). The controller ended up being some random place in the living room. Monday: I went to leave for my acupuncture appointment. My booster seat/pillow thing was missing from my car. Not in the trunk or anything. I cannot drive without it. I'm too short to see over the steering wheel. I called FM1 and they have no idea where it could be, despite the fact that they drive my car every day. FM1's gf helped find it, in the garage. But I still had an epic fucking meltdown, sobbing the whole way to and from my appointment. I just cannot handle people moving my shit and disrupting my schedule like that. And it just hurt so much more knowing that FM1 was so awful to me the day before about their stuff being misplaced. I'm always having my personal belongings, my feelings, my personhood, disrespected. It hurts deeply. When I got home I stressed to them that this is my car, and my accommodation should not ever be removed from it under any circumstances. It was after this that I decided it was time to hold a family meeting. I called Family Member 2 and 3 over to the house. I read a long letter to them in which I told them about the talks I have had with my therapist, psychiatrist, and another psychologist. Even though I cannot be formally assessed and diagnosed at this time, I am being treated for autism. I detailed to my family my entire life of trauma that is traced back directly to my autistic traits, and my needs not only not being met, but being outright denied. I was denied empathy most of my life for my sensory issues, my pain, everything. A big part of this is gaslighting. Even if it's unintentional or not malicious, gaslighting is incredibly traumatic. Especially when it comes to my sensory issues. I have had even more problems with overstimulation the past year which means I can barely sleep, so my daily naps are even more important. I try to coordinate my naps when there is less activity in my house. But if I'm in a ton of pain and extra sensitive and ask for quiet, that's when I get in trouble and a fight happens. That's when FM1 tells me I "need to be realistic" and "can't expect the whole world to shut up for you"... when I'm literally saying "I have a migraine and need to rest, can you please not play loud music or slam cupboards in the kitchen for a few hours?"

I was emotionally neglected and abused by both parents. A lot of it is just the result of their own trauma that they have not dealt with... But I have also been physically threatened and assaulted by them at different times, though it only happened those specific times. (They won't ever admit to it though.) The emotional and mental abuse still goes on in my home. I am not allowed to have emotions. I have been told "STOP. WHY ARE YOU CRYING. LIFE'S NOT FAIR. WHEN YOU GET OUT IN THE REAL WORLD YOU'LL HAVE SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT" over and over--like... in response to me crying about my pet dying, or in response to me crying bc I'm in horrible pain from my chronic illnesses, or crying after my usual yearly ER visit. I am also not allowed to have boundaries. I have tried to communicate with FM1 that these things hurt me deeply. And their response is basically, "YOU'RE SO UNGRATEFUL. I PUT A ROOF OVER YOUR HEAD!" and threats such as "BETWEEN TAKING CARE OF YOU AND GRANMDA, ONE OF THESE DAYS I'M GOING TO DRIVE OFF AND YOU'LL NEVER SEE ME AGAIN!" or "I'M THE ONE WHO SHOULD KILL MYSELF BECAUSE I HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF YOU"-- y'know, in response to having a disabled child. Ouch. The message is clear: I am nothing but an inconvenience and a burden to my family. I still have nightmares about them abandoning me, or abusing me more. I think in their heads they think that they love me. But this isn't love. If I try to talk to them about how dangerous it is for them to say things like that to me, they say "I never said/did that." Which brings us back to the gaslighting: I said that every time they gaslight me and tell me that my emotions/thoughts/experiences aren't real, it triggers me so badly that I self-harm and become suicidal.

I was very clear with them: I said that I can no longer have that in my life because one day it will kill me. I don't wanna die that way. I want to live. I have very bad PTSD and it's something I have worked on for 8 years but it has been worse the past year with so many disruptions and FM1's worsening narcissistic traits. I gave the choice to them. I said if they gaslighted me again that they were making the decision to not be in my life. Because this is about preserving my life. I'm trying not to die here. I'm literally trying to save my own life, even if that means not having a relationship with my family. They accept that I am autistic... But they then took turns gaslighting me. When I pointed out, "that's gaslighting. that's exactly what I just said in my letter. What you're doing is gaslighting" they went even harder on it. They said my experience and my trauma is "not in line with reality". They also said I "need to be reasonable" with the boundary that I'm setting (meaning: they don't believe in boundaries at all). They tried to guilt trip me with, "you can't cut someone out of your life because what if they DIE and then you FEEL GUILTY??" (I mean, what if I killed myself because you keep hurting me? Wouldn't you feel guilty about that?) They also guilt tripped me with "well we TRY to invite you to family stuff, and we try to include you, but you never want to go..." um... I guess they forgot I am chronically ill? Sorry if I don't have the energy or pain tolerance to drive an hour each way to a loud family party after I've worked all week? I cried and cried, I said this is exactly what I told you that you do to me and how it endangers my life... and you're doing it... while telling me you don't do it to me... They were all weird and told me "we love you and would do anything for you!" except... I guess, not gaslight me constantly? Idk. I felt so trapped. I felt so hopeless. I was up all night crying. I wondered, "Why is the idea of me having distance from them somehow worse than me being dead? Why would they prefer that I die rather than set a boundary that will save me?" And then I remembered: I had set the terms. They broke them. You do this, you're out of my life, because me being alive is more important than us having a relationship which will eventually kill me. I'm not trapped. It doesn't matter if they think they can prevent me from setting this boundary because they can't. I'm in charge of my boundary. So I blocked them on social media, as well as their phones. I have to unfortunately keep FM1 unblocked bc I live with them, they drive my car, and they look after my cats while I am at work. If I didn't have so many great things happening behind the scenes, if I didn't have my cats, if I didn't have amazing friends and followers who are supportive and kind... I can definitely see that I would have ended my life that night in some alternate timeline. That is how much pain I was in from them doing that to me. Them literally trying to gaslight me into not setting a boundary. I mean it would've been so ridiculous on their part, can you imagine? Me: Hey family, when you gaslight me, it makes me suicidal. I don't want to die, so either you stop doing that, or we can't have a relationship. Family: UHH NO *gaslights me anyway* Me: ok *kills self* Family: *surprised Pikachu face* Like???? Would they really have been shocked because it seems like they should have known since I told them directly? And that just shows that they really don't take my pain seriously at all. They think I'm overly sensitive and that my trauma is not real. That would have been a painful wake up call for them. I told my therapist all of this. And she agrees that this is good, this is going to not only ween them off of me but also allow me to focus on all the good stuff I have going on. I have to get moving. So much stuff has been lagging because I'm constantly recovering from them triggering me. I'm going to focus, and heal, and gtfo of here. Thank you for your support and for never invalidating my pain.

[animerunner]

What Happened Is Not Right And That’s Okay (Chapter 2)

Ao3

Link to Chapter 1 Fandom: The Owl House Rating: T Warnings For this Chapter: Dehumanization, ableism, possible borderline gaslighting, and parental ignorance/neglect possibly bordering on child abuse.  Relationships: Eda Clawthorne & Lilith Clawthorne, Eda Clawthorne & Eda Clawthorne’s Mother, Eda Clawthorne & Principal Bump (additional relationships to be added as the story progresses. Summary:Living with a curse was never a simple task. And really from day one Eda knew it was going to be complicated. But she can't help but wonder at times. Just why hers has to be this complicated.

In short: An Exploration of what life might have been like for Eda growing up with the curse. AN: Hey there so what story is basically what it says on the tin. With some creative liberty of course.

Something to keep in mind is that this story progresses: 1. Explore Eda's character and others in response to the curse 2. Help myself explore and come to terms with my own Chronic Illness 3. Help educate others who aren't as familiar with disabilities on the realities of the situation. This one is important to me since the fandom can have an ableism issue. And I would like for readers to maybe take away why the use of certain tropes is a lot worse than they might realize. 4. This story is not meant to be either tragedy or inspiration porn.  5. I've only really begun interacting with the disability community in the last few years. So if I do a misstep its unintentional ignorance. Which I realize is not great either. I just want to make clear my intent is not malicious. If someone else who is in the community in some form be it Neurotypical, disabled, chronically ill, etc. sees something questionable within the story that comes off as unintentionally ableist please tell me. I would be happy to clarify if the plot beat was unintentional (and fix it) or somehow deals with the story itself. Which will happen sometimes. 6. Some of this is based on my own experience. Some of it is not. The parents issue this chapter is a good example of it not being based on my own experience. 

This story will touch on some topics that might be sensitive to some readers. I will include warnings . If your sensitive to the topic please keep that in mind before starting it. Also please bear in mind that not all chapters will have the same element. So while one chapter might have one issue, the other might not. A good example of this is an arc I will be exploring later in the story involving ableism in sports. 

For anyone who wasn’t around for the first chapter. This was originally inspired by @beckyarteest​‘s fic before it went off and became its own quasi multi chapter AU (I am bad at sticking to canon compliance): I'm getting old and I need something to rely on.

Anyways Actual story is under the read more. Ao3 link is at the top. Please let me know what you think!

One day turned into two and two turned quickly into a week. And after that with no real sign of the ‘curse’ resurfacing, Eda had actually started to think that maybe everyone else was right.

Maybe whatever had happened that day was just a one off thing. 

Unfortunately, reality had made that hope come crashing down just over two weeks after “the duel that wasn’t” with Lilith.

                                                  =============

Eda wouldn’t remember the moment that would properly change everything about her life.

Though, she guessed that wasn’t entirely accurate. Considering the biggest moment had happened a week prior was when she had been supposed to be vying for an Emperor’s Coven spot against Lily. The day of her first transformation.

However the incident in potions class, the moment they now knew this was almost certainly not just a one off incident like they had been hoping? That was the moment it became all too real for Eda. 

Even if it would be a while longer before it became real for the rest of the family. That was the day reality started to sink in for Eda. As it was the day that she knew at least to an extent that her life wasn’t going to ever be the same.

It would also be her first gateway into the many, many issues that came with the curse. Whether it be other people’s treatment of her cursed form, right or wrong, or just still having people take her seriously in the beginning. 

Something that would be a recurring struggle she would have to deal with in the coming years.

Much like the duel, she would only be told what had happened afterward. The entire time she was transformed she wasn’t even aware of what was going on. 

It was something that would over time become  associated with fear and worry. At the time though, for an Eda who was still in denial, it was more of a source of annoyance. 

Eda didn’t like that she had to rely on other people to necessarily do ‘the right thing’. Especially since in both instances so far it nearly hadn’t ended in her favor.

Thankfully of all people it was apparently Principle Bump who came to her rescue. Seeing reason when one of the other teachers had tried to suggest handing her off to the head of the Beast Keeping classes for the time being... 

Bump scowled at that not particularly liking the way this conversation was going, “She is still a student. A transformed one but one nonetheless. Unless she starts attacking someone there is no reason to be summoning Arden.”

Sure, he may not be particularly fond of Eda’s antics at times. Sometimes he wished that the entire Clawthorne dynamic wasn’t like how it was. It was a source of many of his headaches.

But that did not mean he supported putting Eda in a cage.

Even if she wasn’t in her right mind currently, she was still a student. And she wasn’t being aggressive. Honestly, this other form so far hasn't been aggressive at all. Though who was to say that wouldn’t change?

He was more than a bit concerned with how little they knew. However, there was one thing he was certain on: that forcing her into a cage would make things worse, not better.

Not that he particularly liked the idea even before you factored in the fact that they’d be caging a student.

“So what do you suggest we do with her then, sir? Leaving her out could cause property damage.”

Which, arguably, was more Eda than anything else. 

“Put her in my office and call a healer. Hopefully someone will know what to do to get her to transform back.”

“Sir, I must protest. Putting her with you could put you-”

Bump cut the other teacher off before he could continue. “I didn’t become the principal of this institution by sitting on my thumbs Marcus. I am more than capable of handling an unruly student. Even if she has been transformed into another creature.”

Not that he genuinely thought handling would be an issue.

                                                 =============

“So what your saying is neither of you can help.”

 Bump had ended up summoning both a healer and grabbing DeFrost anyway. Hoping maybe one of them would know how to solve their issue. 

 “I apologize, sir. But I’m used to dealing with minor curses. Things of inconvenience mostly. Under normal circumstances, I would refer this student to a specialist. This is way beyond my own capabilities to treat.”

 And of course, they couldn’t do that without involving the Clawthorne parents. Who he had tried to alert when Edalyn had transformed again. But they had both been busy and he had yet to hear anything from them yet.

 “And I’ve never seen a creature quite like this. Cursed or otherwise. I could possibly see if I have anything discussing something similar to Ms. Clawthorne. However...”

 “Most likely Edalyn will have transformed back by then.” Bump concluded.

 So apparently they were dealing with not just a curse. But a rare curse. Great. 

 Why was it that nothing involving the Clawthornes was just plain and simple?

 “At the very least can you tell me if she’s any sort of danger?”

 That way he could have his staff stop bothering him.

 DeFrost adjusted their glasses. “Well it's hard to say without knowing the curse or how it impacts her mind. But based on normal cursed creature behavior most likely she won’t be a danger to anyone unless she’s provoked. However there’s still a lot of questions there...”

 “Like what could provoke her.”

“Exactly.” DeFrost  nodded. “Sir, I know you said you could handle if anything happened but-”

“I can handle myself just fine Arden. I appreciate your concern but if I need your help again I will ask for it.”

“Understood sir.” DeFrost agreed reluctantly. Before taking their leave.

“Am I dismissed as well sir?”

“No. Actually I wanted to ask. I know you can’t help her return to normal. But I imagine the transformation back won’t be easy on her. Is there anything we can do to ease that at least?”

“Well yes. But that would normally involve the family…”

“I’ll handle anything that might come if they protest. This is already a difficult time for Edalyn. Let's not make it worse.”

                                                =============

Thankfully time really was all they needed for Eda to transform back. 

Though rather than answering his questions and possible suspicions. Eda’s return to awareness just raised even more of them in their steed.

“Welcome back Edalyn. How are you feeling?”

“Like an icicle is trying to drive a hole into my skull,” Eda said, wincing again rubbing the right side of her head. “What happened?” 

“I believe that you will probably want this, then.” Bump rather than answer the question slid the potion that the healer had left for Eda when she finally returned to normal. “The healers figured you might have one after you transformed back.” Bump explained as Eda downed the bottle.

Eda frowned as she put the bottle down again. Now that the pain was receding she could think a bit more clearly. And realize that she couldn’t think of a reason for why she would be in the office in the first place. “Back? Wait was I-”

“Transformed into that creature from the duel? Yes.”

“I didn’t even realize it,” Eda noted with a frown. Much like the last time everything was just a giant blank from right before she transformed. Which worried her on another level. Why was she unable to remember anything from when the spell, curse, whatever it was took effect?. “I didn’t hurt anyone did I?” 

“No everyone got out of your minor escapade without a scratch.” Bump assured her. Deciding to leave off the near incident with DeFrost and the cages for the moment. It wasn’t like he hadn’t specifically told them not to get the Beast Keeping professor involved. 

Eda sighed in relief. “That’s good at least.” 

“So you really aren’t aware of what happened after you transformed? I take it?”

“No, the last thing I remember is being in the potions classroom. And then waking up here. Everything between the two is a blank.” Eda’s face scrunched up in a frown. There was a bit of a tangible residue of some sort of memory. But she still didn’t know the relevance of it. “Mother’s going to kill me for missing class.”

“I would have thought you might be somewhat pleased by the new attention.”

After all that had been a reason behind some of Eda’s pranks over the years. Though sometimes Bump wondered just how much Eda realized this herself.

“Not like this.”

“Either way I’ll write a note. In the meantime you really should have a specialist check you.”

Eda winced. “That’s probably going to be easier said than done.” 

“If it comes to it, the same offer I made to your sister when she was being given difficulty by them I’ll extend to you. If you need someone to help you get seen about this curse then I can try to help you find someone that your parents won’t cause problems with.”

Eda winced remembering the fiasco that had been trying to get her sister her glasses. There was an unfortunate high probability history could repeat itself. She really hoped her parents had maybe learned. “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you Principal Bump.”

“Your welcome.”

Eda’s unusual politeness wasn’t lost on him. Go figure the most polite conversation he had ever had with Edalyn was because of a curse.

Maybe he should have tried a different tactic with the youngest Clawthorne?

Too late to fix that now he supposed.                                                 =============

Any small hope for Eda that maybe her parents would take it seriously when she got home. And not try to toss it again under ‘something else’ didn’t last longer than five minutes after her mother got home. 

“Clawthornes don’t get cursed.”

“But-” Eda began to try and protest. Absentmindedly scratching her wrists. While most of the pain had subsided with the potion Bump had given her, there were still some residual aches and pains from the transformation.

Just like last time in fact. 

“End of discussion. I will not entertain this absolutely absurd discussion. Let alone the idea of taking you to a specialist.”

Eda scowled, not ready to back down without a fight. “If it's just a spell then why did it happen a second time?”

“I don’t know Edalyn, maybe someone thought they should continue the lesson.”

Eda opened her mouth to try and continue the argument. Only to have her mother disappear through the door, slamming it shut behind her. 

“But I haven’t even done anything this past week.” Eda muttered to herself.

After the first idea of it being a curse had gotten into her head. She had decided to try and be better. The transformation had hurt! She hadn’t wanted to go through it again. 

So as difficult as it had been she had hung up her pranking supplies. For now at least until whoever was angry with her cooled down.

If this really was because of a prank. Then someone was really vindictive was all she could say.

Either way whatever caused it wasn’t really the problem anymore. It was figuring out what to do next before the curse resurfaced a third time.  

Normally she would have turned to Lily for guidance. But her sister was away at training. Meaning it was her against her parents. And she had no clue how to handle it from there.  

It had always been them against the world. Even when that world sometimes included their own parents. 

With the one person who may have understood their complex family dynamic gone. With her having no idea when she would see Lily again. She had no one to turn to. 

Sure, Bump had once said that if she needed help to come to him. But this felt like a bit of a reach. 

Maybe it was for the best to leave it alone for now. Maybe if it happened again her parents would take it seriously.

She knew that the likelihood of that happening was probably small, but what else could she even do at this point?

Her parents' reaction, while infuriating, was not entirely unexpected. And it was even less likely to change if her childhood was anything to go by. Since, if it was something that made the Clawthorne’s imperfect, then it was not to be acknowledged. Even if it impacted their own children. 

And if there was anything that indicated an ‘imperfection’ it was having a curse on a child. 

Titan knew how it had been a fight to get Lily her glasses. Eda couldn’t even begin to imagine how complicated things might be if this was something far more sinister than getting your sight corrected.

She guessed if she needed too she could try looking for care on her own. She was old enough now that she didn’t need her parents there at a healer’s appointment. But then again the fall out from going to a doctor when she didn’t have her own source of income.

Well it would be a mess. 

Why did this have to be so complicated?

[justseveralowls]

I’ve spent over 16 hours in two different ERs and I’d like to vent

CW: Doctors hospitals, chronic illness, incompetence, female hysteria, humiliation, mental health stigma,

What follows is my original post made on Thursday, there is a update as of today at the end and the news is not all bad. This is made to spread awareness talk about an issue I feel is way too often ignored and most importantly let other people feeling this they aren’t alone.

So. I have ehler danlos syndrome, celiac, endometriosis, fibromyalgia, and an (so far) otherwise specified seizure disorder. So basically I am a medical dumpster fire. Getting a or in my case several diagnosis has been a long terrifying and grueling for both me and my partner. We have enountered many doctors and nurses who were kind attentive willing to listen and knowledgeable about my Miriad of admiditally uncommon diagnosis. But today I am so incredibly hurt, frustrated, angry and scared and I want to put this out there because this is part of the many problems that chronically ill and disabled people face everytime they walk into a doctors office, emergency room or even out in public.

So I look sick, it’s obvious and it’s been obvious for a long time. I sit at around a six to seven on a pain scale most of my life, which sucks. I have chronic nausea and weight loss that makes me weak and thin in a sick way, which also sucks. But by far the hardest thing is hoe many people refuse to take my seriously. So today after three months on a waiting list I saw a gastroenterologist. I was scared, underweight, sick and tired. I wanted answers like always and let my partner drag me into a beige fluorescent room to try and make some sense. Overall the doctor was nice, but put heavy emphasis on my past of CPTSD from repeated abuse, and implied that my weight loss and severe gastrointestinal problems could be “just a side effect of my anxiety”. That was dehumanizing to say the least. Because I know I’m traumatized, I’ve sat in therapists offices and cried, I’ve pulled myself together, fought addiction and anorexia and I know that I’m healing. I know it’s his job to look between the lines but I also want to just have a chance to be understood, and not dismissed as a psych case.

Later today I had an episode of vomiting and loss of consciousness, over all not great stuff. So my partner in their amazing sense of love and compassion took me to th ER. Because that’s where you’re supposed to go when you’re scared, sick, hurt, in danger and don’t know what to do.

My experience there was by far the worst I’ve ever had. My vitals were highly abnormal (high pulse at rest, low BP, and low pulse ox). I was having neurological symptoms related to my seizure disorder and instead was given a barrage of tests that had nothing to do with why I was there, the condition I repeatedly told them I had, or the worrying vitals. So after two hours a head CT and useless blood work the ER doctor looked at me and my partner (who was forced to wait in the car in 94 degree weather) and told me I was fine and dehydrated.

I’m a nursing student, I’m new, I’m a novice at the most, and I have a lot to learn. But never could I imagine having a chronically patient, with abnormal labs and vitals with numerological involvement be given saline and discharged. My partner and I were terrified because we didn’t know what else to do. I needed help. I needed answers. I needed them to hear me. After me panicking my partner told me that we should try again. Because doctors are here to help us, and if your scared and there’s something wrong they took an oath to help.

So I called the nurse who was awesome, he went and got the doctor and I was ready to make my case. My partner at this point as well as me were terrified frustrated and close to tears. And this ER doctor after hearing our concerns, my history (with chronic illness and anorexia) proceeded to throw up her hand and as’ my partner “what they her to do”. This was shocking but sadly it doesn’t end here. The doctor proceeded to insist that I was fine and the situation was both non emergent and out of her hands. I responded in a passive way because at that point I was scared triggered and exausted. And I asked what she thought I should do”. And the words that came of her mouth hurt me and made more angry than any four syllables ever has.

“Psych referral”

Now let me something straight. I am a survivor, I am working in me healing, I am growing and changing for the better. I take my meds go to therapy and work everyday to get a little better. But this woman who obviously hadn’t read my chart which denotes not only my diagnosis, psychological history, and notEs from speacialists on the severity of my physical condition has just implied that I’m crazy. This was horrible but 8 could see how it would seem that I am overreacting but, due years of gaslighting, medication being forced on me to cover abuse and trauma, I hate being called that. It’s not a real term, nor does it help anyone, nor does it doing anything but make me remember the nights I spent wondering if that word was me.

In one visit, one person managed to dehumanize, humiliate dismiss me and maybe risk my life based on the fact that 8 wasn’t worth the time it took to read my chart.

It so incredibly weird to have to say this but I as a queer, gay, chronically ill, Latin person am in fact still a human being WHOS painand concerns deserve as much respect as anyone else. We all deserve to be helped and heard and people like this are one of the many reasons that I and so many others are scared to ge5 help, scared to tell the full story, or scared to speak up. This kills people. This is killing people. And this is why I in all my chronically glory and working so hard to advocate and move forward in medicine as a whole. Because nobody deserves that. Because I didn’t deserve to sit in an ER terrified and be told I was crazy. Because my partner doesn’t deserve to be dismissed and mocked for being scared. Because I nor anyone else have to prove I am sick enough or disabled enough to be worth someone’s time.

I hope anyone who reads this and understands even a little. Who’s been through it, whose family and partners have been through it know that this is not okay, that this not your fault, and that you are by no means crazy. That the people who make feel like burden or an annoyance are the problem. Because you deserve to be heard. I m hoping everybody’s doing okay, I’m hoping your journeys are treating you well. Because as always no matter who are, where you are and what you’re feeling you are not alone, you are worthy and I believe you.

***Update**

I later went to a larger hospital not in my home town, and through a long stay in the ER got a formal epilepsy diagnosis, given a anti convulsants drug, and overall treated like a human being. I now have contact with their epilepsy unit and have the tool and education I need to start this part of my chronic illness journey. I’m exhausted and getting used to knew meds but am highly grateful for the good doctors out there, the nurses who listen and the partner who was angelic enough to be with me through it all.

[uberrapidash]

content/trigger warnings: suicide, death, isolation/loneliness, grief

Someone that I went to uni with died by suicide last week. Let's call him C. He was so kind. He was almost 10 years younger than me. Every day when I saw him, he smiled and said hey like he was genuinely so happy to see me. I never really got to know him, but I felt like I was important to him. I also had classes with his mom and his brother. We all sang together in the choruses.

I struggle to maintain friendships and make friends in new places (mostly in-person things -- I'm much more able to communicate in text settings). I have been struggling a lot with feeling isolation since moving to my current town and switching to this uni campus. I literally haven't made a single friend since coming here. There are people that I really like, who stick out to me, know what I mean? But any efforts to form any sort of relationship are completely one-sided, only coming from me.

Do you ever have those moments where someone waves at you from across the room, and you're confused and look around because no way they're waving at you, right? That's what C did to me. It really actually helped me sometimes, because I would go to my classes every day and see the same people every day (moreso than what you might realize, because as a music major you really have all the same classes together), yet still feel so lonely. And then there'd be C, not even in the music building, waving at me from across a crowded cafeteria. He impacted me.

I moved here to come to the main campus a couple years ago. I lost touch with the people that I thought were my friends at the old campus, despite my efforts to stay in touch. But again, always one-sided.

No one told me C died.

Of course I am feeling some amount of grief, though not overwhelming because I didn't really know him know him, you know? I think what is impacting me the most is that no one told me, and I'm struggling with that because I feel so guilty and ashamed of feeling this way.

I don't scroll facebook anymore. I had opened up facebook for some other reason, and there just happened to be something about his death at the top of my news feed. That's how I found out, after the funeral had already happened.

I'm not mad at any individuals for not telling me. I'm feeling distressed at my situation of isolation, made worse by the fact that I try to not be isolated.

I immediately reached out to those people who I considered my friends. A couple of them did want to talk a little. I was worried about my friends.

It might sound like this is "just some guy from uni." But it was a small campus, and the community is different within the music department. It's like a family. It's intimate. It's the nature of it. Everyone is affected by C's death.

You might say, "but uber, you switched campuses and moved away." Yeah, so have a couple other people -- actually, so did C. C was attending my campus at this point.

People from the music department at my current campus who had only just met him this semester went to his funeral. No one from my current campus told me either. The place that I'm currently attending. My current colleagues.

It's like I don't even exist.

Maybe this wouldn't be such a big deal to me if this didn't also happen when my best friend from childhood killed himself 3 years ago. I found out in passing from someone who didn't even know that we were childhood friends. Let's call this person B.

I have experienced a tremendous amount of grief over B. I have realistic dreams in which he comes back to life, and I'm sobbing in my dream because I can't believe what's happening, and then I wake up crying and I'm a wreck the whole day. B was the person that I spent my summers talking to on the phone all day, on a corded phone attached to the wall so imagine spending 8 hours a day in the kitchen to be on the phone. The kind of conversations where you say "hold on, I have to go pee" and you put the corded phone down instead of hanging up.

He was the kind of friend who I had a huge fight with my ex-husband about me sleeping in the same bed as B one time when I stayed over (I'm AFAB and B was cismale). I think my ex and I were engaged at the time that it happened. I didn't see anything wrong with it, because B was my best friend and I grew up with him and I trusted him, and B and I knew that our intimacy was platonic.

That's the kind of friend B was to me. And no one told me he died.

So my grief at these deaths is compounded by the isolation that I'm feeling. Like I don't exist. Like no one ever thinks of me.

You might say, "but uber, the pandemic is keeping people isolated." No. It's not that, either.

Despite the pandemic, I am chronically ill and often absent from classes.

When I notice someone misses class, I send them a message to ask if they're okay and if they want to get copies of my notes.

No one has ever done the same for me. Ever.

One-sided. Like I said. Like I don't matter.

Unless someone needs something from me. Unless someone needs a ride, or has a question for a vet tech (because I used to be a vet tech), or has a question about an orphaned bird (because I used to do orphaned songbird rehab).

I remember it being like this even when I was a kid. Kids didn't want to be friends with me until they wanted something from me -- answers to the homework that they didn't do, tutoring, or in like 1st grade when they wanted me to do art projects for them. It started young.

The impact that this kind of experience has had on me has been insidious. It's like it's been there my whole life, but I didn't really know about it, and then I started to notice it but just put it out of my mind. Then I recognized it was happening and I tried to comfort myself by coming up with all kinds of excuses/reasons for why it's this way, like I'm just not noticing the people who do keep in touch with me, I'm only noticing the negative, or like how I used to think that I just wasn't trying hard enough. And it's only going to get worse, as my health continues to decline. I'm going to be trapped at home more and more. All my energy is going towards just trying to take care of myself. I can't spare the energy for social interactions, pandemic or not. I'm disabled. I'm more disabled now than ever before, and it's just a fact that it's going to get worse.

I don't know how to handle this. Do I need to learn to put up boundaries to protect my emotional self? What does that look like? I could become jaded and keep in mind that no one ever actually wants to be friends, that they're just nice because they're nice people or because I'm useful -- but that's damaging in a different way, to never leave it open to make friends.

[modern-oedipus]

Covid Vent

No one: Nila, who goes out maybe once in a month due to covid: *listens to coffee shop sounds in youtube to get in mood*  It’s really hard to maintain social isolation now that it has been 5 months. But the cases are going up and up and up, hitting my friends and their families. I myself had to split houses with my mother because she had covid cases in her work place. I don’t think I’d isolate myself this much if I wasn’t in the risk group, but I am. Knowing that I am most likely to go to intensive care and experience the trouble breathing again like I did during the asthma treatment is not good. The potential permanent damage on lungs, for someone like me whose lungs are already more prone to sickness compared to healthy people, is also a big no, considering that I’m only in my early twenties and if everything goes well and I live a normal life I’d live around 50 more years.  50 more years with a disability or isolating myself at home? Isolation, obviously. But this pandemic doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. I am only indoors because both my internships are online & college hasn’t started yet. I know that I’ll eventually have to go out if my college doesn’t switch to online education. It doesn’t scare me at all, though, I am not like, “anxious”. I’m concerned, disturbed, alert, but not in a paranoid anxiety. If I end up catching covid, I’m at least mentally prepared to deal with it. I’m also eating healthy and exercising and don’t really have health problems except for that past-lung-treatments that more or less put me to a risk group (risky enough to concern me, even though I don’t have a chronic illness), so who knows, I might just pass it like a flu as well. No one knows. It’s not good overthinking covid, all I can do is to keep social distancing & mask & hygiene, as always. I’m just so suffocated. I’m more prone to be an extrovert. Before pandemic, I’d only use my house to sleep I’d keep being out in public, attending events, ORGANIZING events, going to coffee shops, club meetings, lots and lots of stage plays, tours, everything. I’d sneak into my friends’ dorms and change cities and just so many more “normal” fun things. I was barely starting to enjoy my life again after the depression healed. Now, I’m mentally ok, but physically trapped. The “watch netflix, read books, stay home” thing is kind of overdosing me right now. I like this shit for a week maybe, not for 5 months. I don’t know how to not risk my mental health while keeping my physical health anymore. Of course, to even HAVE a mental health I need to stay alive, so I’m not complaining- health care workers, people who go to job everyday (including my parents), etc. are in such a harder situation. I know. But my own life is also valid, and while not as troubling and concerning as lives of others right now, well, I think I’m still worth caring, at least by myself. I don’t expect any extra outside compassion or validation (we all are in same situation), me writing my thoughts here is more of me just trying to see my thoughts being worded on screen so that maybe I can come up with a solution to these things as I go. Because I’ve always been a problem-solver rather than just merely venting. (I can’t always solve problems though, I need to work on accepting this fact.) Anyway, I just thought, maybe spending more time outdoors in the natural park that is close to my house could be a good thing. But it’s crowded since it’s outdoors and I really don’t want to share any commonly used areas right now. (I used to be more than okay with this before covid, as I said, I’m mostly extroverted and I like community gatherings, but I like being healthy more), so like... Idk, maybe I can just sort of have phone calls and videochats with my friends as I sit outdoors. Except I don’t even know I have that many friends anymore. I mean, I do- I surely do have bestest of friends in my life that I’m grateful for, but like. I am somehow an introvert magnet and while I’d die for most of my best friends (both irl and online) I don’t really think they are as hype about just chatting as often as I am. (I know that this doesn’t mean they love me any less. They love me in their own way & I love them in their own way so that’s OK.) So like. Maybe Nila, have this BRILLIANT idea of making more friends. Except. Like. You’re at home so you aren’t in much of social gatherings [you aren’t in any! That is insane!] and you don’t really know how to make friends from home. I mean, yes there are online friends but like. EVEN WITH THEM. How can I just *trust* them right away? I can’t, so like. I don’t know. I’m bored af.  On the bright side, today one of my bff from school called me and said he’s back in town and that we should catch up, he’s literally one of the greatest company ever and he wants to see the doggo, so I’m positive we can just have hour 9242309204 hours long in-depth chats again without getting bored (amazing to have people like that in my life). Anyway. I guess the moral of this is:

- I need to accept “the new normal”

- I need to protect myself but try to keep my mental health as good as possible because I like myself more when my mental health is fine and I can also come up with better creations then

- I need to finish my course work (internship) so that I can relax before school starts

- I need to spend more time outdoors but in isolated areas (good luck finding them!) 

- I need to recharge

- I “want to” make more friends or just check up on existing ones! I can’t use the word “need” for this because this would degrade the freedom of the other party. Friends are appreciated, and to some extend, a necessity for social creatures like us, but no “need” will make it happen. I will just make an effort to check up on my existing friends more frequently-- I’m quite selective at this, though, I prefer generally upbringing people who are mature to a certain extend (aka, no obsession, no passive-aggression. yes to personal boundaries, yes to an overall nice attitude [we all can have problems and that’s ok and that’s normal. what /I/ personally don’t wish to be around [with my all respect] is this mindset of “life is a disaster let’s be depressed” thing. I just love love my current friend circle because even if my close friends are just around 7 people, and even if we get depressed or sad or scared, our general look to life is nicer, we don’t make disasters out of regular days, we enjoy talking and chatting, which overall increases our life quality and makes it better. We also communicate & respect & listen to each other and all. I mean. It’s not like that with everyone, and that’s ok, but as I said, this is my personal preference. I prefer having bonds that are good rather than toxic and I am doing my best to be equally good, rather than being toxic to my friends. [I’m sorry I post a lot of Banana Fish to those who don’t know Banana Fish, ok. I know ur bored but like I just cannot help it. I’m trying to tone it down but BANANA FISH.] sOOOOOOOO, SOOOO that’s why it’s not how “i have 29420343204 friends uwu” mindset, like, I noticed I need to be reasonably picky with those I’m close to so that I and people I love can overall have a nice, fun days, which is point of friendship. (I mean. As I said. I’m here on bad days too. But I don’t feel mentally healthy enough to carry the burden of someone else’s depression. It hasn’t even been two months since I’m out of therapy yet, and my mental health is, while not bad, it is fragile. I’d rather not be around those who can [mostly, unwillingly] effect me badly. SO LIKE.  - that’s one hell of a long post nila, but long story short FRIENDS or you’ll die out of boredom

- also just finish your coursework i beg you

- thanks for coming to my ted talk, I actually always offer potential solutions on my vent posts, but this time i wanted to write this publicly [i dont think anyone will read this and i dont mind it] because like. why not? it’s just me thinking and I feel as if this could be of use for some people who are reading this & isolating themselves too. anyway, i love u, stay safe. 

[breakingtanaka]

Going to No Shame Tour? Read this post (and please reblog)!

Hello! So I know I’ve made quite a few posts about this already, but I figured I would go ahead and make another one since we are getting closer to tour.

My name is Carly, and I’m a 17-year-old disabled 5SOS fan. Though I am able enough to enjoy pits at gigs, I know that some fans are not, which is why I have been working on this project for nearly two years now.

Known as #DisabledSOS, my project started way back in 2016 when a group of disabled fans, including myself, started a hashtag of the same name that trended in both the UK and the US. Once I began to see projects being created for MYT, I decided to bring it back, and have done everything from lighting venues up with blue lights to giving the boys a book full of stories.

Now that a new tour has been announced, I have already begun to plan projects for the shows to emphasize the fact that there is no shame in being disabled, and that us disabled and chronically ill fans matter as well, even if we can’t make it to shows. I want those who are unable to go to have something to let them know that they are loved and supported.

Of course, to achieve a blue light spectacular at a show, we have to have people that are willing to pitch in, which is why I’m calling on 5SOS Tumblr to spread the word. Every little repost helps, so please, even if you’re unable to help at a show, please take a moment to share!

If you do decide to become involved, we may ask you to print out sheets of squares to hold over phone flashlights, as well as to pass these out before the show and a few other things. There’s also plenty of online things you can do as well; don’t hesitate to ask!

If you would like more information before making your decision, here’s our blog (which contains links to mostly everything else), and the official project post on Twitter.

Please don’t be scared to reach out to me if you want to get hands-on with this at your show, or if you just have questions! Everyone is welcome; you don’t have to be disabled to help or participate.

Thank you!

[collectablecorner]

SSAFA, the Armed Forces charity supports the entire Armed Forces family. It is a UK non-profit charity that provides long life support to individuals who are currently serving or have served within the British Armed Forces and their families. This impressive organization has been operating since 1885 and was founded by Major James Gildea. Today SSAFA boasts of 5,000 volunteers to help upwards of   people every year and is the UK's oldest national tri-service Armed Forces charity.



Why is Collectable Corner choosing to support SSAFA?

The problem people tend to have when it comes to charitable donations and fundraising is not knowing how much of the donors funds are reaching the desired goal of helping someone in need. While we can't speak for the charities themselves, we (myself and my family) can talk about our experience with SSAFA and why we're confident that the money gets exactly to where it is needed the most.

Brian Cook, a loving husband, father, great grandfather and (my) grandad served in the Royal Air Force (RAF) and was a part of the Christmas Island nuclear bomb tests in the 1950's which exposed the soldiers to radiation due to being closer to the bombs than any human should ever be. Today only a handful of the Suicide Squad Veterans are still alive. Almost (if not all) of the soldiers involved died through multiple various cancers and ill health such as chronic arthritis and heart, lung, liver diseases. There is evidence to support the fact that these health conditions can be directly related to what the soldiers were made to do. But not only has it affected the veterans themselves but their families genetics has also caused numerous health problems generation after generation. This will carry on for generations to come also and the UK is one of the only countries involved to not accept these findings and therefore the support for these individuals and families has been lacking. Unfortunately Brian (grandad) was no different, neither is his family.

In January 2018, Brian fell ill and was taken to hospital where within three days of admittance was diagnosed with late stage liver and lung cancer, all that could be done was to make him as comfortable as possible. Over the course of the following four days we prepared for his return home. We gave a sofa away from our living room to make room for the hospital bed due to Brian losing the use of his legs, and we turned a downstairs room into a bathroom. Monday came round and Brian had been in hospital for 7 days, Monday to Monday. He arrived home via hospital transport and we got him settled in as best we could. Grandad always wanted to die at home my grandmother tells me. At 3am tuesday morning, after being home for around 10 hours Brian, my grandmother's husband, my mother's father, and my very special grandad passed away. It was, as anyone who has lost a loved one will know, devastating. It all happened so fast.

During the period between Brian's death and his funeral service SSAFA actually offered us money towards the cost, which we refused based on the fact we would rather it had gone to someone more in need than ourselves, but it stuck with us in our hearts and minds. What we learned is that SSAFA, the Armed Forces charity, gets the money and help to the people who really need it. We didn't expect nor ask for it either. At this period in Collectable Corner  didn't exist, what existed was another hobby project that never worked out but a vow was made by myself to use the public platform to raise donations for SSAFA in loving memory of RAF Veteran Brian Cook. Now after a couple of years of hard work, dedication and grind, Collectable Corner, i am elated to tell you is working out and in a position to honour that vow and may he rest in peace.

Who does SSAFA help? And how does it help?

SSAFA, the Armed Forces charity helps people in a variety of ways.

For currently serving personnel and their families provides:

Support in service communities

SSAFA has a network of volunteers on Army, RAF, and Naval bases in the UK and around the world who give local support.

Housing

Housing for wounded, injured, and sick serving personnel and their famiies SSAFA Norton House, Stanford Hall provide home-from-home accommodation for families visiting wounded, injured, sick service or ex-service personnel and outpatients. SSAFA also provides day-to-day management of Fisher House UK at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Birmingham (QEHB).

Mentoring for service leavers

SSAFA's mentoring scheme was set up in 2011 and supports those transitioning out of the Forces. SSAFA's volunteer mentors provide support to wounded, injured, and sick leavers through a long-term 'one-to-one' relationship that underpins the transition from the military. SSAFA Mentoring is nationally accredited by the Mentoring and Befriending Foundation.

Adoption for military families

SSAFA is a registered adoption agency dedicated to helping military families through the adoption process.

Additional need and disabilities support

SSAFA provide specialised support to military families with additional needs including their Forces Additional Needs and Disability Forum (FANDF).

Short breaks for children and young people with additional needs from Forces families

SSAFA coordinates holidays and events that focus on offering new experiences and activities for children and young people from services families.

Stepping Stone Homes for women and their children with a service connection

Stepping Stone Homes provides short-term supported accommodation, help, and advice during difficult times. Female spouses and partners of serving or ex-service personnal, along with their dependent children are all eligible to stay there.

Professional health care

SSAFA's professional health care staff provide patient-focussed care to military families worldwide.

Personal support and social work for the RAF

Working alongside the RAF, but outside the Chain of Command, SSAFA staff provide support for RAF personnel and their families worldwide. 

Independent Service Custody Visiting

SSAFA provides independent oversight of Army Service Custody facilities.

 

Support available to veterans and their families:

Housing advice

SSAFA offers practical housing advice and support to Armed Forces veterans and their dependents including guidance around housing benefits and accessing social housing.

Debt advice

SSAFA can help veterans to get advice on dealing with debt when they have fallen behind on their bills or repayments to credit cards and are struggling to get by or at risk of losing their home.

Mobility assistance

SSAFA volunteers seek financial assistance for veterans to help maintain mobility and independence at home. Trained volunteers can help veterans get mobility equipment such as Electronically Powered Vehicles (EPV) or mobility scooters, stair lifts, riser and recliner chairs.

Providing household goods

SSAFA can provide veterans with essential household items, including white and brown goods.

Support for homeless veterans

SSAFA has a range of specialist services to support veterans who are homeless or facing homelessness.

Joining Forces

SSAFA's partnership with Age UK to improve the lives of veterans born before 1950.

Gurkha services

Providing tailored support for Gurkhas and their families who live in the UK.

Glasgow's Helping Heroes

Glasgow's Helping Heroes' is an award-winning service provided by SSAFA in partnership with Glasgow City Council for current and former members of the Armed Forces and their dependants or carers who live, work, or wish to relocate there. It's dedicated team work with national and local governments and third sector providers to resolve clients employment, housing, health, financial and/or social isolation issues.

Forces helpline

SSAFA also offers Forcesline, which is a free and confidential telephone helpline, web chat, and email service that provides support for both current and ex-service men and women from the Armed Forces and their families.

As you can see, SSAFA goes above and beyond to help as many serving and veteran pesonnel and their families as possible who have sacrificed for our country and ensures the aid gets to exactly the places it is needed most. To do this requires a lot of time and money, as you can imagine.

Covid-19 and the SSAFA Emergency Response Fund

Covid-19 has had an impact on everyone regardless of if you are ill. It looks like it will remain a part of our lives for a long time to come, heck, it may be a permanent part of modern life. At SSAFA, calls and requests for help from the vulnerable people, such as the elderly, low income households, and those with serious underlying health conditions. In response to this SSAFA has an Emergency Response Fund. The strain on the organization is obviously high as more people need help with mental health, housing, and financial issues. SSAFA provides this support for the British Armed Forces, serving and veteran personnel, and their families but to do this SSAFA needs to ensure it's staff and volunteers are kept as safe as possible with PPE. Combine the huge rise in help requests and the need to protect SSAFA staff, volunteers and those they help results in a large increase in costs which is why donations are so important and critical to its operations to continue the vital work SSAFA does.

What is Collectable Corner doing to help?

We have purchased over a thousand Royal Air Force (RAF)  Dog Tags, Ball Chain Necklaces, Rubber Silencers and Packaging, which we are asking for a donation of £10 per set plus £2.29 for postage of which 100% of the £10 is being donated to SSAFA. Collectable Corner is paying any processing fees and extra postage fees that may incur. Essentially, the Dog Tags are a token of gratitude from us to you for making your donation and helping us to support and help as many people as we can together. In total we have 504 sets of Dog Tags available so that equates to £5,040 in funds to generate. We also have the ability to purchase more should we require them.

How are the donations being made and how often?

We will deposit the donations directly to SSAFA at the end of each month via bank transfer to an account SAFFA has provided to us*.

How will donors know that donations were made?

We understand how important it is to be absolutely transparent with charity work to ensure that everyone knows when and how much is being donated and it is just as important to us at Collectable Corner as to donors and customers. Collectable Corner will of course be publishing monthly updates on our blog and in our newsletter which we urge you to sign up for, along with publishing the donation receipts and sales records minus people's private data such as names and addresses etc. We also have a backend application running on our website which allows visitors to CollectableCorner.shop to view in real time exactly how many sets of dog tags have been claimed.

Share your experiences of SSAFA

Collectable Corner is welcoming you to share your stories with visitors to our website. On each product page is a review section where anyone can make use of by letting others know your story. Maybe it is about how SSAFA has helped you or someone close to you, or maybe you have fundraised and donated in the past. Maybe you are someone who works or have worked with and volunteered for SSAFA who wants to share with us all, or maybe you simply want to say hello.

Thank you... 

We, at Collectable Corner, want to thank SSAFA for the amazing work the staff and volunteers have, will and do do. The impact this charity has had on so many lives truly is something to be marvelled at.

Thank you to anyone who helps us to make some real world differences by ordering a set of RAF dog tags with the knowledge that you are donating to a truly awesome cause.

Thank you to all of the past, present and future British Armed Forces personnel who have sacrificed, and do sacrifice everything for our great nation. You make us proud each and every day.

Finally, thank you Brian Cook, my Grandmother's Husband, my Mothers Father, a Great Grandfather, and my Grandad for being such an inspiration, thank you for being the best and only Father i ever had. May you sleep easy and Rest in Peace.

*Please note that the information in this article has been vetted by and in part supplied by SSAFA prior to being released to the public and is accurate at the time of this publication. Collectable Corner has the permission of SSAFA of the logo to be used and they are the copyright owner. SSAFA is a non-profit charity registered in England and Wales (210760), Scotland (SCO38056) and the Republic of Ireland (20202001). Collectable Corner is not in a partnership with nor affiliated by SSAFA, however we are in contact. Anyone who wishes to confirm that SSAFA is aware of Collectable Corner's campaign to raise donations and the methods being used can do so by emailing commercial@ssafa.org.uk or GaryDavidson-Guild@ssafa.org.uk

[mouseyfox]

[Video description] A white woman with dark brown hair down to her chin and black horn rim glasses sits in front of a cream wall with a string of mint drying behind her. She is holding a pillow with a geometric design as she turns on her phone's video camera.

[sigh] Hi, my name is Krystal. I am a disabled queer woman and I am here to have a talk with you today about what it's like being disabled in the United States and trying to keep a job. 

[Transcript Below]

So [sighs] there's some major issues with how we as US citizens and people in general, um, deal with disability and how it relates to the job force and how [thoughtful pause] we are treated as employees. Now the Equal Opportunities, um, Equal Employment Opportunities Act, um, was a major step forward as were similar things such as the, you know, Disability Rights movement, and the Americans with Disabilites Act, and even, you know, the Affordable Care Act. Those have all had positive effects on the Disabled Community as a whole, but there's a lot more that needs to be done. Now, disabilities are not just physical. They can be emotional, or psychological, and they can also be intellectual. That means you could see someone with a wheelchair, or a missing limb, or someone who has Parkinson's Disease, or someone who has dyslexia, or someone who has PTSD, someone who's missing an eye, someone who's deaf, blind, the list goes on, honestly.

For me personally I have been disabled for ohhh well over fifteen years at this point. I have experienced over fifteen years of abuse in my life which has triggered Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, um, DID, um, Anxiety Disorders, Major Reoccurring Depression, I have Trichotillomania, Excoriation Disorder, I also have physical disabilities as well. I have Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome. I also have Chronic Pain and Fatigue, I have hips that don't sit right, and a back that doesn't like sitting straight, and I also have migraines that have gotten to the point where I'm having about a migraine every week or so even with medication. I'm going in for more treatment options with a neurologist to figure out why they're happening. Now, I am a person who would benefit greatly from things like Universal Healthcare, and uh Universal Basic Income because at the end of the day I am a queer woman who is disabled and who is supporting a partner who is totally disabled as much as I can, and even just saying that could cost him his benefits, and that is heinous. We are not married, if disabled people marry and they have benefits they can loose them entirely, legally, within the US as it is today. I have a Bachelor's degree I got from the University of Louisville this spring during COVID and while I am very happy that I have finally achieved something ten years in the making for a lot of reasons it was horrible on my health both mental and physical.

As a student who is independent and was relying entirely on loans aside from very few scholarships that did in no way cover the full cost of tuition. I worked [sigh] a full time job while being a full time student at a call center uh who violated my rights as a disabled person in a number of ways and when I eventually left that job and applied for full time disability benefits, which I was denied, by the way, uhm, [the call center] lied to the SSI department, and said that I had never once filed accomodation letters to them, which is very untrue as I had spoken with an HR Director on multiple occassions, I had emailed them, I had spoken to them on the phone, I had one on ones with supervisors about how the job was affecting my physical health, as well as my emotional and mental health and how it was worsening my disabilities.

I had applied for short term disability, which is something that in the United States, is only offered by certain employers and is something that you have to pay into. There is no short term disability department with the SSI. There is no way for an American citizen currently as it stands to have short term disability to get some of the medical issues under control in the US unless you have already paid into a pool.

Now, some of you might be wondering what about FMLA, the Family Medical Leave Act? I applied for that, and they really don't like you using that for short term disability unless if it's something that was happened at the job or outside. For example, if you undergo an amputation, you might be someone who would qualify for FMLA. But, for me, a person who was just dealing with further issues with my chronic disorders that are never going to go away, um, at this point my issues are so deeply imbeded that I will have to be on medication for the rest of my life to handle my disorders and as with many people, as I age, I am as likely to get more disabilities on top of everything else.

The way that our economy, the way that our healthcare works right now we don't accomodate or help or you know just give disabled people a way to live and work without highly unfair and horrible ways of treating them. I have been gaslit by employers. I have, uh, very highly insinuated that I was lying about issues with my health just so I could go home and "be lazy", or I've been told or implied by coworkers that I was lying about my disabilities and there are all sorts of negative public stigma about people who lie about disorders so they can like get benefits. And, honestly, here's a news flash for you, it's virtually impossible to get full time SSI benefits if you're lying. I have friends who have disorders that can kill them before they turn fifty who are considered not disabled enough to qualify for SSI benefits. And these are people who are dealing with horrible diseases that will kill them or just make it really impossible for them to ever work. Like, physically, mentally, some education, uhm, or not education, intellectual disorders there's no way they're going to be able to hold a full time steady job and you know with the way that our economy works part time jobs don't cut it.

Most people are working two to three jobs because our minimum wage isn't high enough. And if you're disabled you spend so much money on taking care of yourself, and spending days at home, and that's just part of being disabled. I don't like calling off of work. I don't like being drug into my supervisor's office to get you know reprimanded for constantly having to call in or leave early. I don't like inconveniencing my coworkers either because I know that makes it harder on them, but you know what's also harder on them? If I decide to power through a day even when I'm feeling like garbage, and I make more mistakes, I will get less things done, I'll be worse off with my customer interactions, and there are days where I have worked through on ten, twelve, even thirteen hour shifts as a disabled person, and it has absolutely wrecked my health.

I have been working for ten years and I've been a caretaker for even longer, and my ability to perform at a full time job has drastically diminished in just ten years of trying to support myself in the way our current economy works and I've worked in a variety of different jobs. I've done physical labor jobs, I've worked in factories, I've worked in call centers, I've been a barista, I've been a cashier, I have been a bourbon steward, I have worked in healthcare in a variety of fields, and I have worked in library science which is what I'm hoping to get for a- for my- my education goal is I want to be a librarian. I want to be someone who helps people with research and reference work, and helps with their community. I love being engaged with my community. I love helping people. I like going to work. I do genuinely enjoy going to work! But when I have to keep working to a point that would make even a- you know someone who's not disabled overly worked and wreck their health... What do you think that does to those of us who have disabilities? Huh? Cause I can promise you it's a lot worse than you initially think. And the accomodations that they offer at most jobs are a fucking joke. They really are.

Most jobs aren't even accomodating for people in wheelchairs, for people with physical disabilities, and not to mention people who have hearing problems, or who are blind, and don't get me started on psychological problems. We could have an entire separate discussion on that one because the way that workplace cultures work and the way with microaggressions with racism, and all sorts of other factors like homophobia, transphobia, fatphobia, yes that counts, okay, because a lot of disabled people are just big, and you know what a lot of them are also really skinny, because their medical problem might be tied into that in ways that you can't understand either without a medical degree, or without being disabled yourself and having to do research.

Because at the end of the day the people who are most educated about their own disabilities are often the disabled person themselves. Yes doctors are very educated. Yes they know a lot. But you know who also knows a lot about the disorder, the person who's fucking experiencing it. I have friends who have been dismissed by doctors for years. Whose illnesses and issues have been completely mishandled and not at all treated by doctors because they wouldn't fucking listen to their patients. Okay. And, that's not something that we should be proud about as a country.

The way that we treat disabled people is horrible, and that's not even considering the problem with eugenics in this country because there are a number of people who are very interested in the fact of created designer babies, or aborting [disabled] babies, or you know, just throwing disabled people away until they die in a corner so you don't have to think about them. And that's a historical problem with this country and it hasn't gone away. We haven't fixed it. And it's something we need to work on.

But you know what? We're never going to be able to address those harder issues until we address the fact that working and having to hold multiple jobs to live for abled people that's inexcusable. It's even worse when you're disabled.

I can't tell you the number of times I have been almost homeless because my job had fired me because I had to call in too often, or I just had to leave a job because it was horribly wrecking my health. I have played yo-yo with all of my jobs for the past three years after I tried filing for disability, and you know what? They told me no. They told me I'm too young. I can't possibly have the disorders that I have or I'm just not disabled enough.

And you know what? You can be disabled at any age. And that possibility only increases the older that you get.  Because the older you get your systems start failing and you will be disabled at one point in your life. Period. Everyone will experience disability before they die in some way shape or form. So when we talk about disability rights it's not just about me. It's not just about friends of mine who are being killed by our healthcare system, and by our government, and by our economy, every single day. It's also about you. So when I ask you to give a fuck about disabled people and work and listen  to what we're asking you to do this is about you too. Because one day you're going to be in our position, and you know what? It sucks. And no one should have to deal with this.

[Emotional Pause] We need healthcare reform. We need it. Very badly. And when I say that it goes from everything to my own father who has been insulin rationing, and dealing with completely ludicrous insulin prices since before I was born.

It goes to my mother, you know, whose liver shut down because of black mold in a church my father preached at. I watched her slowly die for a year because she refused to go to the hospital because if she did, and she got the care that could have saved her, it would have killed my father because we wouldn't have been able to afford his insulin.

You know, and I'm not the only person, who's had situations like this, there are elderly people all over our nation who are dealing with similar issues all day. There are people who are disabled, there are families of disabled people, who are working to support people. There- Did you know that it's actually illegal for disabled people to marry and keep their benefits? Did you? Because I have a pertner who is disabled and even just saying that could rob him of his benefits.

That's not including issues with disability and, you know, being queer. Because being queer complicates everything. You know I don't say that because it's fun and I get "all the social benefits it brings" as Rosalarian would say because you know what? There really aren't any.

I'm queer because I'm queer. I'm disabled because my body is a pain in the ass, and because I've gone through things that no one ever should have had to go through and it has completely wrecked my mental health.

And I've gotten so much better than I used to be! I used to be so much worse off and put up with stuff that was absolutely wrecking my mental health and physical health because your mental health does a lot of stuff with your physical health that you might not be aware of. [Cat sneezes]

The United States as a nation is literally working itself to death, and that doesn't just affect able bodied people. It affects disabled people a lot worse. And you know what, I like working, but I like living a lot better. [Turns off video]

[statisticalimprobabilities]

I was called “an abomination” for being disabled

**ableism trigger warning**

Today I was scrolling through Instagram and I noticed that a girl I used to know back in elementary school had posted graphic photos of dying animals along with a caption that essentially said that anyone who eats any animal products is evil. Her intention, clearly, was to shame anyone who doesn’t make the same dietary choices as her. I’m always bothered when I see posts like this, because I recognize the ableism inherent in these sorts of broad shaming statements. They all rely on the idea that everyone is capable of becoming vegan, and often when people with these beliefs are questioned they will stand behind the idea that “anyone can find a vegan way to meet their nutritional needs.” But that simply isn’t true. There are a wide variety of disabilities, allergies, intolerances, etc., that can prevent a person from safely eating a vegan or vegetarian diet.

I myself am someone who, because of my disabilities, is unable to survive on a vegan or vegetarian diet. Not only do I have specific nutritional deficiencies due to poor stomach absorption, I also have a condition that severely limits the foods I can eat. This condition arose because back when I was an infant, my Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome caused severe acid reflux which made eating a painful experience. As a result, my brain formed negative associations with food, and these negative associations led to the development of Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder. ARFID is a condition in which people experience both mental and physical aversions to food, often lack a normal appetite, and can have their gag reflex activated simply by tasting or even smelling a food that isn’t on their “safe” list. The condition is largely subconscious, making it very difficult to control and not something a person could just “get over” or “push through.” We have very real physical reactions to foods outside of our usually tiny “safe” lists.

On another day I might not have bothered to comment on the post my acquaintance made, but today I was already feeling sensitive. My best friend in the world, who also has ARFID, is currently away at an event and is going through hell in part because she is faced with group meals comprised of foods she can’t eat. So knowing how much this wonderful, amazing friend of mine is suffering right now because of ARFID, I couldn’t stand to see someone ignorant of the condition imply that people, like my best friend and I, who eat meat and cheese are all terrible people. So I commented and politely told the person who made the post that she might want to avoid making broad shaming statements because they can be harmful to disabled people who have no choice but to consume animal products.

The next thing I knew, she was private messaging me and calling me a liar, saying that anyone could go vegan and demanding I provide sources stating the opposite. I complied and provided 9 separate scholarly sources discussing various issues like allergies, chronic illnesses which can cause zinc deficiencies (a deficiency which can be worsened by excessive vegetable consumption), studies that show that veganism worsens IBS, and of course I provided information on ARFID as well. The girl, who likely didn’t even read the sources, made it pretty clear she didn’t believe me. I’ll let the screenshots tell the next part of the story.

The things she said to me in this conversation were perhaps the cruelest and most dehumanizing things that I have ever had said directly to me. By calling me an abomination and telling me not to have kids so that I don’t pass on my “bad genes,” she essentially told me that she believed I am less than human and that people like me shouldn’t exist. The fact that in 2019 there are still people who think it is okay to say this sort of thing to disabled people is revolting. This faux-progressive girl would likely never say this sort of thing to a member of another minority group, would never imply that they were abominations, but she sees no issue in saying that same thing to a disabled person.

I’m lucky that this didn’t have too bad of an impact on my mental health because I’ve been a part of the disability activism community long enough to have grown to accept and embrace my disabilities. I understand that they are part of what makes me who I am, and while I still have days where I hate them and feel sad about them, overall I try to love them because if I didn’t have them then I wouldn’t be me. I try to remind myself every day that there is no “right way” to be a person, and that I don’t need to conform to arbitrary abled standards in order to be successful and happy.

But still, seeing this was a bit of a punch to the gut because it cut straight to the insecurities I had back before I began to love myself. I used to wonder if maybe I was too “broken” to exist, and used to think that my family would have been better off if I’d never been born. I know better now, but those thoughts still haunt me at times. I showed the girl’s messages to my parents a few hours after I got them, and it was heartbreaking to watch my mother tear up. “I feel the same as I did when you used to come home from school and ask me why kids were bullying you,” she said, “I want to have an explanation but I really don’t know. I really don’t understand how someone could say something this cruel to you.”

I really hope that anyone who sees this will reblog it, I really want this girl’s terrible words to be seen. Because ableism is not going to end until people are held accountable for it in the same way they are held accountable for other forms of discrimination.