What being a disabled millennial like

I guess it’s been exactly a year since I started blogging. I started writing with the intention of gaining some perspective in my life and it totally worked. I’m right and everyone is terrible.

At the start of the year I had my trusty neuromuscular disease which makes it impossible for me to physically care for myself, my mother’s Alzheimer’s had gotten to the point where she could no longer physically or mentally care for herself, auntie had been in my life for a few years helping me try to get her medical help and deal with the endless paperwork x2 that comes with disability. She was the only family member that even pretended to make an effort in my life, but the stress of it was obviously getting to her.

And I was losing my god damn mind so I started this blog.

The major thing I realized is something I already thought I knew; being disabled is like being in a completely different reality that normal people only have some vague sense of, like gravity but really can’t comprehend. What I specifically learned throughout this year, though, is that they willfully remain ignorant because of their narcissism.

That sounds incredibly rude but in some cases I mean it in the nicest way. Some able-bodied people simply never learned that TV isn’t real. When they hear anything about the reality of living a disabled life and how it has nothing to do with your health but everything to do with violent bigotry they try to convince you that any bad situation is an outlier. ABs refuse to acknowledge disability to avoid feeling guilty; those people legitimately don’t know how common and easy it is to step over a dying body while complaining about the smell.

There are some people who genuinely don’t know better and so they are eager to help, impatient for the praise. It’ll get them praise, but they can’t handle it for long.
For my Mormon uncle it was the very minute that I called him to let him know that his sister was sick that he became overwhelmed and he insisted we both be sent to homes. He had no idea why I was so opposed to the suggestion because it wasn’t as if anyone would want to rape me or anything.

I know I heard that clearly because he was screaming it through the telephone.

Auntie pressured me into putting mom into a home and then to make sure I can make no decisions she told them I was mentally ill and all around general liar so I wasn’t allowed to have contact with my mother. After mom got kicked out after week for unruly behavior I found out from the carefully worded discharge papers that she had been raped in the shower. Whether Auntie knew that are not I don’t know but it was the last time I ever saw her.

Up until then, though, Auntie worked incredibly hard to help us but the weight of sainthood became too much. There were multiple times where she would throw my medical cards at me from the end of my bed while yelling at me for not knowing how to love correctly. To her credit, she wasn’t completely wrong.

She said I was being condescending when I constantly apologized for being a burden and then I halted every conversation with the incessant need to thank everyone for just being there. True. It took me being forced into a role-play game before I really understood that.

I like helping people out. I like seeing people relieved and happy when I can unexpectedly provide a solution. I like feeling that I can have at least a slight impact on other people that isn’t horrible.

What I don’t like is people making it weird by being awkward, thanking and apologizing to me every few seconds. When they insist on thanking me it hurts my feelings because it seems like they’re surprised I would do something nice. When people won’t stop thanking me it’s alienating. When someone puts you on a pedestal is not only objectifying but lonely because you’re no longer equal.

What I still don’t understand is what the hell I’m supposed to do.

When I go somewhere I have to get their permission to go. When I do something I have to get their permission to do it. When I eat I have to have proven that I’m worth the waste and produce.

How can I not thank them?

How can I take the risk of not thanking them?

It used to infuriate me and people told me I had no idea what the “real world” was like when the only world they know is Pollyanna’s but now I can’t help but agree. In the real world you don’t have to pretend not to know your friends in public.  In the real world you go to the police for help instead of avoiding them. In the real world you don’t apologize to other people when they hit you. In the real world strangers don’t tell you that your God’s punishment on humanity. In the real world you check the mailbox for bills, paperwork to fill out for permission to live for another month.

In the real world a real person wouldn’t have their healthcare taken away for having an extra $100 in the bank, a real person would be allowed to have more than $2,000. Especially if everything was as expensive in the real world as it is here.

Even after a year finally coming to terms with never getting the promotion to human I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life.

Although I have to fight for it every day I’m still living in my home, unlike my ancestors. Even if I’m not allowed to own it.

Also unlike my ancestors I’m trapped inside my bedroom but I have the technology to talk to people all over the world. Not people from the real world but people like myself who are going through the same things that I am. I never know how long I have them but thanks to the sheer number of us I’m never alone. More and more of them grow exhausted and are forced to commit suicide but it’s a less lonely than it would’ve been even just over a decade ago.

We have the ability to communicate and create things as long as it’s not in exchange for currency and because of that and realizing that there are people in the real world who do care about what’s going on in the outskirts of The Real World™; AB and NT people my age, millennial’s who have helped me survive with much more dignity than any other American generation has before them.

I’ve proofread homework in exchange for dinner. I’ve written essays on Deadpool in exchange for toilet paper. I’ve reviewed movies for hair dye.

I have no hope for society itself but I have hope for humanity now that I know that there are people unlike my family but things haven’t changed enough for me to even have a conclusion to this post. Still, I have the ability to make this post and as pathetic as it is I’m thankful for that.

Uninspirational Inspiration

All disabled people have their abilities belittled and marginalized, which is why depression and suicide is so prevalent in our community. Everyone feels worthless to some degree; whether in their school life, working life, family life, love life, etc.

ABs interpret our frustration and anger as narcissism and demean us for being bitter. They intentionally keep our issues invisible by claiming that none of them would ever be so cruel as to force us out of society as they do. They use us as worst-case scenarios to encourage themselves to reach goals and to encourage society to be more tolerant of them simply for not being us.

Any civil rights movement, whether it be about gender or sex or ethnicity or race, actively distance themselves from those of us who would also be included in those civil rights movements if they considered us human. They pretend to sympathize out of one side of their mouths and literally say “we don’t deserve this, we aren’t disabled” out of the other side.

They gain “rights” by upholding the status quo and volunteering to be gatekeepers; framing themselves as benevolent gatekeepers. They say they feel terrible about segregation but then build their own communities inaccessible from the ground up.

We are told to overcome who and what we are as if we’re something to be ashamed of. To overcome a society fundamentally built on eugenics. To overcome the very people telling us to overcome.

If you have low self-esteem, it’s no wonder.

Nothing you do can be enough. No crippled athlete is ever athletic enough to stop being crippled. No inspirational cripple is inspirational enough to be offered equality.

If you have dreams or goals that you hope they will recognize you should give up immediately.

You can’t win. At least not anything that doesn’t have “special” in front of it.

You live in a world where abortion is justified based on your existence, where an equal education is impossible and a “special” one has to be fought for. In your world, only half of us that make it to high school are able to graduate. Of the sparse a few who get into college, only half reach that graduation.

You live in a world where it’s statistically impossible for you to escape abuse and yet all the abuse in the world is blamed on you. A world in which people call “time’s up” on unconsensual sex while every day those that rape us go unreported or are simply charged with bestiality.

You live in a world where your family and caretakers can murder you and not be held accountable because you are an undue burden.

They are in charge of your health, finances, living arrangements, and every other facet of your life because they made it illegal for you to do it yourself. And then they call you lazy.

They celebrate the end of segregation while you are still being segregated.

They celebrate their prosperity and wealth while you have to report everything you own that’s worth more than $500 with a full understanding that those items will be seen as too lavish for you to deserve healthcare.

They celebrate marriage equality while getting married for you also means losing healthcare.

You live with all of this and yet you are still living.

A lot of us give up and there aren’t a lot of good reasons not to; whatever amount of time we can last, we are doing far more than paying our dues. Committing suicide does not mean our peers gave up and being suicidal ourselves does not mean we have failed in some way. Sometimes the only thing we can control is our death.

But for now, you are alive, and why does that not amaze you?

Every loved one or complete stranger that told you that they would’ve killed themselves if they were you are absolutely correct.

They would kill themselves right now if f they understood the reality of disability and how suddenly they might have to face it, as 1 in 5 people in America are disabled.

And honestly, if they really did understand what they were doing they would stop. Even Nazis enjoy art and philosophy and technology; if they were to recognize our “lazy” accomplishments they wouldn’t throw us under the bus and into gas chambers because it would mean they would have to lose all of that.  They are too entitled to be able to make that sacrifice.

They would never be able to exchange basic human rights for their very lives and yet you do it every day. Whether it’s to spite them are not, you take on centuries of discrimination completely incomprehensible to them. You are facing their best attempts to euthanize us with “cures.”

If all you did today was wake up, you did far more than any of them have ever done in their lives.

You don’t need their approval.

You don’t need their respect.

You may need it in all material aspects of your life but you don’t need it for your self worth.

They are weak, as they have always been weak. They will die, as they always have died. They remain the same while you change the world with your slave labor, your pain and suffering while testing medicine and technology, and your performance in the freak shows they try to imitate so badly.

Me Before You does not represent you. The Shape Of Water does not represent you. A miraculously cured Batgirl does not represent you.

They can’t represent you because they’ve never actually looked at you.

Don’t confuse their failures as your own.

Diary: I was dealing with the SS and now the KGB is involved

Auntie is back.

And nothing has changed.

Throughout the months I haven’t posted I finally got mom all her doctors appointments, I got her diagnoses, I got her new medication, I got things straightened out with IHSS (as much as possible) and finally, things were becoming manageable.

I really really really wanted to be able to start going to my own doctors this year. Two years in a row a few years ago my mom dumped me on my chair which broke both ankles, both knees, my left wrist and my nose both times and the last time I also cracked a rib and broke some of my front teeth. I’ve never been able to go to any doctor about any of this, not even a dentist. I didn’t even have enough spoons to take care of mom but I did and now I’m permanently a lot weaker. If I get much weaker I won’t be able to drive my wheelchair.

And then my maternal cousin contacted me.

I’ve never liked my maternal family other than one of my aunties. Not that she isn’t unlike her family; she’s stolen from elderly relatives, she disowned her grandson for marrying a woman carrying another man’s child, she has admitted to having favorite children of her own. The thing is, she’s upfront about who she is and I respect that even if I don’t always agree with what she does, especially because it’s not my place to pass judgment.

I don’t want to, I just want to know who expects what out of me.

All that being said, her best quality is that she would give you the shirt off her back if you needed it. She may steal future shirts from you but she’ll make sure you’re still warm.

One of the sons she doesn’t care for very much also never really fit in with the family, but we never bonded. He is a nice guy who means well but his ego always seemed his main concern. He’s so pretentious that he actually carried around the laptop one Thanksgiving talking about how he was writing a book and it was going to be amazing. I bet you anything he’s done that shit in Starbucks.

He may have gotten better since he’s had kids, but his wife is really nice which is a good buffer for his personality so I don’t really know. He and I have always disagreed on fundamental issues and I’m pretty sure we still do, but I’ve always thought he was a good guy.

Despite what I think of him I’m obviously not a good judge of character. So when he contacted me, I asked people for advice and they all told me that I should ask him for help. They always say that, about everyone, in every situation.

If I ask people for help who offer it they do help, but they immediately feel overwhelmed and will try to convince me to get help from anyone else no matter the consequences. If I don’t ask anyone for help people get angry when they find out a fraction of what’s going on and accuse me of being an unloving bitch who doesn’t trust anyone.

That last one is true, but people can be real dicks about it.

Why should I trust people when everyone but my father has betrayed me at one time or another? Why should I trust people who don’t understand what’s happening and not only do they refuse to learn, they accuse me of lying?

If you aren’t disabled you obviously aren’t going to know what it’s like to be disabled but you can at least learn the language, I should be able to use the term spoons around you without you rolling your eyes. You can acknowledge at the very least what the laws are concerning people like me but everyone believes so deeply that society treasures the disabled. The government gives me everything. I can stop anyone on the street and ask for help and they will be more than willing to do anything for me.

The reality of disability has never scared me. People’s refusal to acknowledge the reality of disability scares me more than anything.

So my maternal cousin, we’ll call him B, contacted me offering help and everyone said I should take it, so I agreed to meet with him. I would’ve done that much anyway but the best I could do was actually be truthful with him instead of being allusive.

He still a member of that family so his first and only solution is to put mom in a home which will be inevitable, of course, but isn’t necessary yet. He did surprise me when, on Christmas, he brought us a bunch of preserved foods, essential things like toilet paper, and socks.

I was so shocked I cried.

It was so thoughtful (and probably from his wife) that I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt. Sort of.

Do I trust him? No. Do I think he understands anything? No, not in the proper context. Do I think he has any respect for me? No. I very much believe he hears everything I say with the caveat of “she’s sheltered.”

Which would be hilarious if it weren’t the reason for 90% of all of my suffering.

I told him I was open at looking in the homes and when he asked me about auntie. I said that I wasn’t really sure what had gone on, but I think she got burned out on helping so I didn’t feel comfortable asking her for help. He asked if he could talk to her and I said that was fine. I don’t care as long as everyone is being honest with me.

So apparently he texted auntie saying that mom was completely unable to take care of herself (true) and that I could hardly take care of myself (WTF.) Auntie came over this morning when everyone knows I’m sleeping to visit with my mom. She refused to see me because I’m “bitter” and the caretaker here at the time, Zari, agreed not to tell me she was here, but Zari did when they left.

Apparently auntie was talking about how B was getting involved because my mom has a gigantic inheritance and the family wants to take it. She’s been saying that all along, which now strikes me as incredibly suspicious.

My maternal grandfather paid off a large portion of my mother’s debt which was incredibly generous so I wouldn’t find fault if he left mom out of the will. Not that anyone cares what I think. The only thing mom could do with the money is use it to get care which would be amazing but it isn’t my business because it isn’t my inheritance. Mom blew my inheritance from my father. Neither she nor I could even accept an inheritance now anyway or we would lose disability which means no medication which means death.

Each of us is only able to accept gifts worth less than $500. Less than $100 if it’s jewelry.

But no one listens to me and everyone wants some of this mysterious inheritance.

The executor of the will is my maternal uncle who told me no one would ever rape me. I don’t think he’s interested in giving me anything and I’m certainly not interested in accepting anything from him. If for some reason mom inherents something I’ll try to make sure she can use it but I don’t want it.

So, my auntie won’t see or talk to me because I’m probably “bitter.”

I’m not bitter.

I hope one day I will be bitter but as of right now I’m still just terrified.

I’m terrified of how she lets herself into my home to throw medical cards at me while yelling about how I don’t know how to love people because I apologize for everything too much.

I’m still trying to work that one out in my head and I’ve admitted that she’s not completely wrong but I think that people should try to understand instead of just telling me what to do.

Somehow she doesn’t understand that it’s terrifying that she can and has called offices telling them I’m a liar and crazy and not to speak to me. She doesn’t understand how terrifying it is that they listen to her because she sounds so kind and I’m crippled and thus probably retarded. I’m pretty sure she also doesn’t understand how terrifying it is that if I were retarded this still wouldn’t be okay.

I’ve never been quite this terrified.

When I found out she was here I started to shake like when my body goes into shock.

Why won’t people put half as much effort into listening to me as they do trying to gaslight me?

Handicap bathrooms are not trans bathrooms

Due to the high statistics of assault in bathrooms trans ABs use handicap stalls for more privacy and safety. They need to fuck off.

These are segregated bathrooms for disabled people; that means there isn’t another option for us. You have the privilege of using public stalls, appropriating our bathrooms, or going home. Start going home. We do.

Are handicap bathrooms ever okay to use if you are trans? Of course. Trans disabled people should have priority. Next comes cis disabled people. This is the end of the list.

Physical and sexual assault are very real issues for both abled and disabled people; as trans issues have begun entering the forefront of the LGBT™ narrative bathrooms have become a key issue. The best result for everyone would be nondiscriminatory bathrooms; gender-neutral and fully accessible. Bathrooms that already meet these standards are not a part of this conversation.

If you are only fighting for gender-neutral bathrooms you aren’t an ally to the disabled, you’re another oppressor.

As someone non-binary (thus trans) and also physically disabled to the point where accessible bathrooms are imperative, I’m telling you that even if a cis disabled person tells you to get the fuck out of the bathroom and you should get the fuck out of the bathroom.

Assaults including rape are statistically omnipresent threats to trans people of all abilities. Oh well. Assaults including rape are statistically real threats to the disabled at such high levels that we are the only marginalized group in which all genders (including cis men) are nearly identical; the only group in which male presenting people are at less risk are those in the blind or otherwise visually impaired community.

Queer cripples still fight to be heard every year for Pride parades to become accessible. Actual support or acknowledgment of the disabled members in the queer community is nonexistent, the most we can help to fight for is inclusion in public parades and we have been fighting for this for years.

There is no sympathy to be had for ABs of any marginalized group that doesn’t prioritize their disabled members.

If you are at all frustrated or angry when disabled people tell you that you are not allowed to use segregated bathrooms then take that anger and fight for our rights to end segregation in the first place.

One of the most insidious things about segregation is that those of privilege (you) are not only allowed to use segregated bathrooms, segregated seating, and segregated water fountains, you are permitted to literally move to the front of the line.

There will be little resistance from disabled people when you do these things because you people assault us.

You beat us.

You rape us.

You murder us.

Being trans does not absolve you of able-bodied privilege.

You feel entitled to the point where you don’t care if you are publicly humiliating another human being or causing them physical harm.

Do you ever have to piss or shit your pants in public because there are no bathrooms available? If so, good. You can relate. This is something disabled people have to do far more often that anyone seems to be able to comprehend.

A common excuse is that these bathrooms are only used when there are no disabled people around.

That is complete bull shit.

Not only is this not true when it comes to people who are visibly physically disabled it is especially not true when it comes to people with invisible disabilities. A person who appears healthy and can walk and that does not mean that they have the ability to use a non-accessible stall like you. If you see someone with a cane or crutches it doesn’t mean they can use public bathrooms simply because those things can fit in a stall whereas a wheelchair can’t.

Handicap bathrooms are trans issues. They are queer issues. They are feminist issues. They are racial issues. They are issues of every marginalized group because we exist in every marginalized group; and even if we didn’t merely arguing with disabled people about this issue is not acceptable.

If you want handicap bathrooms/stalls to be available for trans ABs then you need to fight for your right to be declared disabled. Either physically or mentally disabled will do.

The LGBT™ has been using disabled legislation to advance their civil rights for far too long. Especially because the NTAB members are so proud of being dropped from the DSM.

Step up or step out because you literally can.

The lack of choices a disabled person has in an abusive relationship

I was asked about people shipping these two as a follow-up to Killing Stalking is disabled culture so be warned, you might see something scary.

The characters have a romantic and sexual chemistry, if you don’t feel that I don’t know that you really feel what makes it horror. Sang Woo is intentionally handsome, in the most conventional ways just like Bum is even intentionally physically weak from the start.



If there isn’t something between them that you can actually feel the story doesn’t work IMO.

Sang Woo is given a lot of redeemable qualities and what some might justify as “good reasons” for at least some things he’s done in the past. Not only does this make him a three-dimensional character it also makes you empathize with him which is why when Bum thinks that he loves him you believe him. Not that it’s what love should be but that what he feels is real.

You can’t victim blame.


When he reaches a door and hesitates a good writer and artist will keep his perspective squarely in view even without dialogue. Just the shot of him at the door makes your chest tighten and your heart speed up because you feel the emotional context whereas someone who isn’t reading can see the panel and not find it disturbing.


That’s a beauty of horror. It’s subversive in a specific way that makes violence, blood, gore, etc. the least off putting things in the story which is why horror movies are so over the top with all of it or don’t show it at all as in the early Hollywood films. Horror makes you afraid of mundane things, that’s why it works.

This shot from Scream is pretty innocent but it’s an iconic image from the movie. It’s a meme people use to represent the movie in its entirety. No one is being murdered or harmed or even scared. Yet. You can see this in a G rated movie.


That’s horror. That’s why some people are fans of the genre.

So, am I okay with shipping them by putting them in fanfiction that derives from canon, whether it’s an AU or not?


Sang Woo is scary because the audience can’t help but love him on some level, even if just in empathy for Bum’s feelings.

If you are a writer, even a fanfict writer, it’s agonizing to not stop the script and end it the best way possible.

If you are a good writer, you wouldn’t be adverse to writing something hard enough to make a happy ending believable.

And if your readers finish your story and feel safe, or calm or happy then you were successful because you were able to subvert the subversive canon  by manipulating their emotions so drastically.

It helps that fans love him, even as just as a brilliantly written character, but therein lies the challenge of fanfiction. Can your fix–it actually fix–it better than someone else’s?

It’s a game that people have been playing for centuries and is the reason for most Western canon.


Deadpool is disabled

Although not a mutant Deadpool is part of the X-Men franchise and what is X-Men? Disabled metaphors!

But Deadpool is one of the (more than you would think) comic book icons who have real-world disabilities to take subtext to text.

What I’m presenting to you now is an introduction to Deadpool in the specific context of his disabilities and I will try to point out the most reoccurring themes that disabled people know to be ableism but NTABs always miss.

Deadpool has a variety undiagnosed and undefined mental illnesses. Most assume they are either the result of his brain cancer or the ongoing medical torture he’s received throughout the years


Very little is known about Deadpool before his diagnosis of terminal cancer but regardless of whether he was ND before this time or not his childhood was very hard in ways that disabled children are very familiar with

Parental/caretaker abuse/abandonment



(Which recoccurred in his adulthood)


and socially “other–ring” in childhood


As stated before, Deadpool has undergone medical testing and abuse time and time again to the point where one diagnosis we can easily make is PTSD


Anxiety also seems clearly straightforward


as is depression and suicidal tendencies


In fact, his most popular romance with the personification of Death itself is debated to be real (as the personification of Death is an actual character within the Marvel 616 universe) or “all in his head”


The only clear physical disabilities are his deformities


(which formed as a result of medical experimentation after his diagnosis:)


and chronic pain


What isn’t as clear are what fans debate might be schizophrenia


and DID


Along with both forced and voluntary medical treatments he has also undergone forced and voluntary psychiatric treatments


Although Deadpool primarily seems ND he struggles with not having passing privilege


or self acceptance


But his self acceptance tends to be of the “fake it till you make it” variety which is handily torn down each time by an NTABs


And whenever he genuinely deals with ableism openly people judge him as bitter


and lazy


Although he tends to make friendships with the less advantaged and likewise disabled people




people tend not to want to be associated with him when in “better” company


and they are willing to use him as a scapegoat for any shortcomings they don’t want to take responsibility for


Despite actual ability or qualifications Deadpool is denied legitimate work


He experiences discrimination


has been raped (something that happens to disabled people more than any other marginalized group)


often lives in poverty


and he has to do destructive things as coping mechanisms

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More often than not Deadpool gets simply disregarded as “crazy” or people try to find a “method to his madness”


but Deadpool is simply Deadpool and although no one else can understand it he makes it work for him as best as he can