First let me be honest with myself and you. 

I have been here before. 

I have been so almost well that I start thinking that it might just be all in my head, that I could wield my will like a magic wand and wave all of this away. 

I seem to have an almost recuperation cycle, where I begin to feel guilty, lazy, pathetic. 

I day dream about doing laundry independently, washing dishes at all, taking dates out for fun nights on the town, walking by myself in the rain, hugging my children without coughing, being a “productive member of society” again.

That is always accompanied by a deep, subtle in it’s expression, but pervasive sense of self doubt which leads me to both question how I have handled my illness *am I just being lazy?* and push myself to “try harder”. 

Let me be clear, this always eventually results in my body crashing hard, usually in a pretty scary way. 

Because my illness is real. 

I am not being lazy

I am not just giving up

If I actually gave up, I would die. I am not actually exaggerating. This world, which by and large I am not in any way compatible with, would kill me. 

But it is still hard not to listen to the world that measures worth in productivity, in hours worked, in dollars earned. It is hard not to listen to the well meaning people with suggestions and advice who just know I could do this or do that. It’s hard not to listen to the pity eyes and good intentions of loving relatives who are just so worried about me. 

So let me tell you, and let me tell me

One more time

For the folx in the back

And the folx in the back of my mind
I am real and I am doing just fine

I am real and I am doing just fine
even when I would like your help, I don’t need your saving or your salvation

I have value

I have worth

I work damn hard, thank you very much

Even when I am not fine, I am doing the best I can

Repeat after me

Even when I am not fine, I am doing the best I can

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2 thoughts on “The Lie that Ableism Feeds Us

  1. Reblogged this on Shadow in the Mirror and commented:
    Yes. So true.

    “I have been here before.

    I have been so almost well that I start thinking that it might just be all in my head, that I could wield my will like a magic wand and wave all of this away.

    I seem to have an almost recuperation cycle, where I begin to feel guilty, lazy, pathetic.

    I day dream about doing laundry independently, washing dishes at all, taking dates out for fun nights on the town, walking by myself in the rain, hugging my children without coughing, being a “productive member of society” again.

    That is always accompanied by a deep, subtle in it’s expression, but pervasive sense of self doubt which leads me to both question how I have handled my illness *am I just being lazy?* and push myself to “try harder”.

    Let me be clear, this always eventually results in my body crashing hard, usually in a pretty scary way.

    Because my illness is real.

    I am not being lazy

    I am not just giving up”

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