I would really like your opinion on this matter. Please share your story or feedback. I recognize that this is not the case with everyone however I think it is something that should be discussed more. Let’s start the conversation here…
This totally rings true for me. I remember feeling horrible shame throughout my teenage years, when I realized the interaction was inappropriate, but I didn’t yet think of it as abuse. The shame triggered one of my worst depressive episodes in which I thought of killing myself violently all the time. I thought it was my fault, I thought that it couldn’t have been abuse because I’d kept going back. I thought that if anyone found out my life would be over. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I could accept that I was abused, and that I wouldn’t blame any other child if they were in my situation. I was finally able to forgive myself. The pain of the sexual abuse I went through was entirely psychological. It cut very deep and didn’t heal easily. The psychological scar is still there, but I don’t feel it lessens my value as a human being any more.
look, they're exhibiting oxygen seeking behavior!
I’m glad I got diagnosed at the age I did. Late enough that I got to skip all that early intervention stuff, and early enough that I got accommodations in school.
The most commonly-spoken languages in London
"I never even notice the wheelchair."
“When I look at you, I don’t see the wheelchair.”
“Wheelchair. What wheelchair?”
Behold, my fellow persons with disabilities! I have successfully figured out why so many able-bodied people are terrified of us. They look at us and see random people floating several feet in the air in a sitting-position while demonically jerking our arms to move around!
At our first CIL, on campus at Berkeley, we had a whole bunch of people with progressive disabilities like multiple sclerosis, muscular dystrophy - people whose disability was ‘terminal.’
They got involved in the politics of independent living and they lived longer. Not just one or two years, but fifteen or twenty!
If you’re independent, and you fight, you live longer.
This is what’s chilling about hospice culture.
A lot of people on hospice shouldn’t be dying.
Hope Is Not A Plan
A story of civil rights in Canada. I just finished watching it, and I really want to share it.
I’m thinking right now of a time I was riding the LRT. It’s a bit of a distressing memory for me. I was sitting facing the inside of the car, when a lady in a wheelchair got on and parked right in front of me. I was in a bad state at the time, thinking about my disabilities made me want to cry. I moved a far bit over so I wasn’t facing her directly. I really hope she wasn’t offended. If I’d have stayed I’d have burst into tears. I didn’t want to make a scene. Incidentally, worrying about if I offended her made speech and acting normal difficult for the rest of the day, so I hid in the library and hoped no one would talk to me.