#like. brother that doesn't even amount to $600 a month

[reikunrei]

i did it. i texted my dad asking for money. you'd think i'd asked for $50k the way i'm biting my nails about it, but i just asked for $3k within the next 2-3 months. i even gave him TIME to do it. jfc

[polyhexian]

Actually fuck it it's 1am and I'm ready to- well, not trauma dump, but I'm gonna be mad about shit that's not polite to talk about in public or whatever. Hi everyone welcome to my transformers shit post blog

Anyway. So most people are not aware I have siblings because I never talk about them and that's because I haven't willingly spoken to my sister in seven years because she's an abusive narcissist and out of her fucking mind violent. But that's not important I bitch about her lying about having fuckin lupus despite the fact it's already killed enough of our family as it is. My brother I talk about even less and you know why??? There's literally no way to talk about him with modern social politics without pissing someone off. My brother is six years younger than me, low functioning down's syndrome/autistic. He's 23 now, nonverbal. I changed diapers until I moved out of my parents house at 17. 24/7 supervision, radio ankle monitor for safety, blablabla. He's visibly disabled. You look at him and immediately know he's disabled so like. I can't even begin to tell you the amount of places I've been kicked out of with him

Every time I see people get into fucking identity politics about like "low/high functioning" hurting their feelings it makes my lip curl, and I know I'm irrationally mad about it but like. What else am I supposed to be? Chill? Did you know "disability" is only for people who weren't born disabled? You only get disability if you're able to work and lose that ability. If you were born disabled? Go fuck yourself. There's programs and whatever but they all fucking suck donkey shit. My family didn't get a cent from the government to help take care of a severely disabled child until he was fucking nine. My brother is deaf AND blind. Like. Come on.

And finally when we did it's still like. Fucking nothing. At one point it was like... I dunno, 600 a month plus some shit like boxes of useless bargain bin diapers? Most importantly we got a certain amount of hours from like a medical care facility. Like, special babysitters, essentially. Fifteen hours a week maybe. Like great thanks that's super helpful. I was scrubbing shit off the walls when I was twelve. Thanks for the fucking help. My brother is difficult and strong and can be occasionally violent when he doesn't get his way. We went through every goddamn care worker in town. I remember at 15, after my dad left, my mom was like. Too depressed to do shit and so it fell to me, terminally adultified child. And because my brother is so difficult the hourly pay for working with him was higher than other clients, so their workers were always super interested in working with him. But I'd answer the door and I'm a tired angry fifteen year old and I know they're going to know the second they look at him why he pays so well and that it's still not worth it to them. So I used to open the door and say hi, my parents aren't coming to meet you, I'm in charge and I know how to forge my mom's signature. I'm tired and I don't want to waste my time with a bullshit interview. Come in, meet him, and if you decide this isn't going to work within like five minutes, that's great, fine, I get it, whatever. I'll sign off on your sheet that you were here for the full hour, so you can just go home and get paid for coming and I don't have to play grown up pretend bullshit for an hour of my time. My mom HATED that I did this but like nine times out of ten they left after fifteen minutes. They weren't worth my fucking time.

Eventually we did legitimately. Straight up run out of people willing to work with him. The company didn't send us anyone new because there wasn't anyone and because we didn't use the fifteen hours a week we got for two weeks in a row the government cancelled his entire benefit system and put him back on the waiting list. The one he was on for nine years, remember? We had to sue them over it to try and keep from losing the little they gave us and the company was so fucking butthurt about it that they called cps on us. Childish bullshit.

I've been kicked out of restaurants and movie theatres and stores and fuckin. Roller rinks or arcades or whatever kinds of places exist because he's disabled and scary and a lot of work and loud and messy and people don't want him around. It makes me bitter and angry and venomous. You wouldn't even recognize me around him. I know I can be a bitch on the internet sometimes but irl I'm soft and timid a lot of the time. I don't like talking to strangers. But you drop me in a room with my brother and I turn into a snarling fucking animal and the second I sense disgust I'm going to make a fucking scene. I've yelled at people in restaurants. What the fuck are you staring at?? I'm so sorry, is my brother enjoying his meal disturbing you? Good thing I don't give a shit. I'll embarrass myself and everyone else in the room without giving a single shit. One time I literally stormed on stage during a high schools talent show for disabled students to scream at a teacher backstage. No subtlety. No politeness. I stood up and I climbed up on the stage and stormed through the curtain. I can't fucking control myself. The anger has built up over the decades and it spills out. How fucking dare you.

And what am I supposed to do with that? That's not inspirational. It's not polite. It's not a nice story. It's "I love my brother but he's incredibly difficult and the government and society as a whole has gone so far out of their way to make keeping him safe and happy extraordinarily difficult that I'm always ready to get in a fight over it with anyone who gives me an excuse." People don't like stories like that. I don't want custody of him when my parents die and every single qualified care facility and group home in the state has refused him because he's categorized as "dangerous" because he can be physically difficult. So he just gets completely abandoned by the world who says wow that sucks but tough shit. Maybe just die about it?

I literally can't post photos of me with my brother without people thinking I'm fucking like baiting or whatever the fuck, like, white knighting my disabled brother for sympathy. As if I'm not just memeing with my family or some shit. And then I can't complain or I'm an ableist. It's easier if I just shut up and don't talk about it, isn't it?

Internet disability politics doesn't and has never given a single rancid shit about low functioning disabled people. The absolute zero sum most at risk people in society. What am I supposed to do when my parents die? I literally cannot take care of him physically or financially and he can't leave the state without losing benefits. I don't live there anymore. I have to uproot everything and go home? Or what, turn him over to the state so he can deal with the, what, 65% chance of sexual abuse that happens to nonverbal low functioning disabled people? Be fed dog kibble and left to rot in a piss stained mattress for days? I've seen these places. He can't talk so they can do anything they want to him. No one is going to stick up for him. No one cares.

It boils my fucking blood just to think about. I don't want to hear any woke ass takes about functioning labels from someone on Twitter if they've never materially contributed to the well being of a low functioning disabled person in their fucking life. Those terms aren't for you asshole, they're for them, because they need more help and protection. Tired of trying to keep up with the politics and labels placed upon my family member by people with no stake in the suffering at the end of the stick they're poking him with. It's all so easy in theoreticals but what if "what happens to my brother if my parents die" is a question that's loomed over your head for a decade without an answer? I'll listen to your thoughts on the matter when you Paypal me ten dollars so I can send him some more scarves to stim with.

People hate messy uninspiring stories so they would rather you just shut up and stop reminding them about it. Literally I think if I still lived down there and one more restaurant manager asked me to leave I would fucking stab them