Jul 23
i need people to be nicer to me
please dont be mean to me :(
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i need people to be nicer to me
please dont be mean to me :(
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happy disability awareness month. heres a post talking a bit about my experiences
ive had a tracking disorder with my knees for basically all my life, which in the simplest terms means my kneecap shifts out of place because of weak ligaments and a weirdly formed patellar surface (the end of the femur near the kneecap). all of this felt normal, the fact that i would fall and repeatedly dislocate my knees. i mean of course i got bullied for it, for being ‘overly clumsy’, for needing to use a wheelchair when it wasnt ‘that bad’- but little ole me was fine. of course with the dislocations it only got worse. ive received the diagnosis very recently due to the negligence of my previous doctors who believed i wasnt old enough to have a disability. the new ones have offered a surgery, but it may worsen my life in the long run.
still i struggle with ableism, external and internal. there are people who believe i should not take the elevator, those who judge me for using crutches and braces when going on walks, those who believe i should stay cooped up inside lest i ‘expose the children’. there is the factor of me believing my disability is not debilitating enough to use an elevator, my belief that crutches and braces make me an attention seeker, the desire to stay inside so nobody has to see how shameful i am. it feels almost as i am trapped, as i am stuck in a box of my own body.
my whole body still does feel alien to me, as its something i was born with as a punishment. though we get along a bit better. i listen to my body, i listen to its needs and in return it tries to listen to my wants. it is still a strange blend, like two paints not quite mixed, but we are getting there. i do not push my body as much as i used to, lest i trap myself in the box again.
my therapist says it is a part of healing from sexual trauma to drown yourself out from sex. i try it time and time again. it punishes me.
it hurts that she took advantage of me right when i was vulnerable, recovering from a man who exploited me for my body. who wouldve known she was like that too.
on second chances
why was i chosen to get a second chance? what mission do i have on this earth, stopping me from my death? i have almost died several times, some by my own volition. a car grazed my back as i walk down the neighborhood, skidding to a stop. a fall that almost shattered my ribs. a hit that almost left me paralyzed waist down. water that suffocated me and filled my lungs with chlorine. none of it killed me. so why do i remain? why do good people die, but i do not? why do those who have so long left to live for leave? is it infantile to beg for their return? i am expected to carry the burdens of daily life on my back. but what if i cannot any longer? my back hurts, i am tired. there is no cure to my disability, the doctors are confused. the doctors think that shoving pills into my system will make it better. it does not. with every day there are medicines with names too long to remember. they think it will numb the pain, but it makes me float. floating hurts, because i crash down. every touch feels like knives grazing my skin, reminding me of my almost-death.
man idk how to say this but please tag your shit. if there is a major character death- TAG MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH
i came to see a cyrus apocalypse fanfiction and left with a graphic description of a successful suicide. is it that hard to click on the little box that says major character death?
like i want to see mystery i want to see suspense but i also dont want to watch my comfort characters die in the most brutal way possible
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i was dizzy when the ambulance came. scared. there were police and doctors. they grab me, i try to bite and scream. im the crazy one here.
the policeman shoves me into the ambulance. inside there are nurses dressed in blue and white. one talks to me, calms me down. we talk about snakes, i think. but that was a trap.
they lock me up in the hospital for crazy people after.
my whole body in agony, no access to anything to help my buzzing pain. they didnt give me a tampon, i bled all over their gowns and sheets. i saw a girl get beaten by the ‘therapist’.
when it was outside time, i saw the door open and ran. i ran and banged on the doors, begging for someone. but there was nobody there. they drag me back, they sedated me. i dont remember much, besides the fact that they put so much medicine in my body that i couldnt stand up afterwards. the ‘therapists’ yelled at me. they called me an attention seeker, that i will never leave if i dont act normal. he threatened to hit me, too.
once i was free, i had to pretend this was normal. i had to pretend, or else i might see the reality of the situation. none of the ‘therapists’ that treated me were licensed.