I literally cringe every time someone calls me disabled, or I have to say it myself (when, for example, I have to get a wheelchair at the airport or ask for help lifting my bag into the overhead bin, why I get to bring my emotional support dog into the restaurant and you don't get to ask me why I need her, or what I "do."). In the "disability community," there are many different ways to deal with this. "I'm not handicapped I'm handicapable." Think about that... really????? "I'm not disabled, I'm 'differently'abled." Ooooookaaaaaay.... What's with the need for labels??? (I've been asking myself that since middle school...). And, obviously, the word "disabled" was developed to be a politically correct word, less detestable and less offensive term to replace the profoundly offensive, "retarded." Now, years later, the word "disabled" has become, for some of us, distasteful, embarrassing, and for some even opprobrious and contemptible, certainly unflattering. So those of us afflicted with some medical issue(s) that impede some of our abilities are grasping at straws to find a word or mashup of words that doesn't make us feel the same way the word "retarded" makes us feel, because for many of us, "disabled" is the new "retarded."
Why does it even matter? Why do I have to have a word that quickly and simply tells people that I'm "special," have medical issues that often heavily impact my ability to make it from point A to point B without assistance or resting (legally, it's 200 feet to get special parking privileges)? Partially because I have to have an answer to nosy busy bodies who have nothing better to do or worry about, to where I park with the parking placard my doctor suggested I get-- Yes, people actually confront me about parking in those special parking spots close to the door, because I "don't look disabled," and "have a nice car." First, how INSANELY IGNORANT to think I can't afford nice things because my body is fucked up... FD Roosevelt used a wheelchair, and he lived in the fucking White House and ran the country, and Stephen Hawking is in a wheelchair and talks thru a computer (and is rumoured to have a net worth of a cool $20 mil). I'm guessing neither ever stood in line for food stamps or begged for money on the interstate offramp. Second, I'm sorry you were born without X-ray vision, but I have severe sciatica, a neck that's fused to my skull, a twisted spinal cord, and breathe through a hole in my neck. But the next time you think about confronting someone who looks "normal" but uses that rockstar parking, or even worse, ask the manager of the store to call the police because someone is abusing a parking space (event though there's a sign in the windshield of a little stick figure in a wheelchair, try this first: MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS!!!!!! Oh, don't think this doesn't happen, and hasn't happened to me.... and twice when I was with other people- the first time with my mom, and when I finally got the woman setting a great example for her 10 year old son by her side, she tried to come off as a Good Samaritan by saying: "I'm just looking out for people like you." My response (which I'm totally proud of being able to think of on the spot; I won't lie, between my traumatic brain injuries and shock treatments, sometimes I'm a little slow to think of things like quick comebacks or just blank out on even the most common words): "People like me certainly don't need people like you, for ANYTHING. Trust me." I've been questioned probably 20 times about my right to park where I park. My current, pre-programmed response is: Listen, if you have a HIPPA form and 20 minutes, I'll tell you why I get to park here and you don't. . . No? Left those at home and in a hurry? Google internal decapitation and you'll see my picture, by that time it'll be too late for you to apologize for being an insensitive, judgmental, snoopy C-U-Next-Tuesday prick face.
This post wasn't even supposed to be about this, it was going to be about how starting an exercise program dramatically increased my physical capabilities, emotional health, psychological well-being, ambition/ motivation to live a life that didn't consist of going from my bed to my couch (on the days I made it to the couch), and self-awareness about my genuine potentiality... All of which had been strangled by thinking I am, saying I am, and being labeled as: disabled. But for me, those other terms I mentioned before aren't much better, and "norms" tend to look dumbfounded when they hear them. They sound good in a motivational speech, or a panel on disabilities or whatever, when the crowd is pumped and everyone's cheering excitedly about the new positive sounding ways to refer to themselves... but when it comes down to it, outside that situation these terms start to sound a little hokey and i'm not afraid to say it, silly. To me. Everything I've written here is obviously my opinion, and I'm sure if I ever get any followers I'll also have haters and people thinking i'm being insensitive or judgmental, but I'm not saying the people who like saying they are handicapable are hokey or silly, just that I, myself, do not like to use these terms to describe or label myself. So I've got to find a simple and polite way to answer questions like these:
Why don't you shovel your snow?
Why are you parked there?
Why do you have a support animal? (Not legally acceptable for an employee of an establishment to ask this, btw)
Why don't you work?
Why don't you clean your own house?
Why is your 60 year old mom carrying your bags at the mall?
Why do you get to sit in the handicapped seats at _________? (Concert, lecture, panel, ballet, theatre, etc...... And this is because my vision is effected, and I can't see from far away without major sensory overload which leads to debilitating and attention-getting anxiety)
Why can't you walk through the airport to your gate/why do you get to skip the TSA line?
Why can't you make plans in advance?
Why can't you work?
Why can't you get out of bed?
Why do you keep kicking me in the face while I'm giving you a pedicure?
Or the comments:
You look fine/normal/capable to me!
Why are you breathing like that/a meth head? Why are you gasping for air?
You know you're parked in a handicapped spot.
I like your choker/necklace. (It's a trach, not an optional piece of jewelry, but thanks and it's cool you didn't realize what it was).
I'm way off my intended topic, here, and I'm going to leave in every tangent I've gone off on. First, it's like my 3rd post so I think I'll be forgiven, and second, this is my reality. Third, this whole thing, every last word, is in my voice. That may not be apparent as of yet, in this early stage of my blog, but if you continue to read it, you'll soon agree. So, the How Exercise Changed My Life blog will be posted at another time!
*Opinions, feelings and concepts discussed are my own and i mean no offense to anyone who disagrees, "differently abled" or not. I use humour, frequently abrasive and vulgar, to deal with my shit and there's likely a bit of sarcasm above. By NO MEANS am I speaking/venting/complaining for anyone else, so don't take out any anger induced by my asshole POV on every person you see with that blue and white, stick figure in a wheelchair sign in their car window, it's not their fault I got angry and posted this blog!!!!!
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