Hello disabled comrades! Sorry the mega is late again. I hope we’re all weathering the COVID surge as best as we can.
As always, we ask that in order to participate in the weekly megathread, one self-identifies as some form of disabled, which is broadly defined in the community sidebar:
“Disability” is an umbrella term which encompasses physical disabilities, emotional/psychiatric disabilities, neurodivergence, intellectual/developmental disabilities, sensory disabilities, invisible disabilities, and more. You do not have to have an official diagnosis to consider yourself disabled.
Mask up, love one another, and stay alive for one more week.
I hear you.
Fingers crossed on your paperwork. I hope it works out for you.
I’m presently pursuing diagnosis for ADHD (which is a huge frustrating journey), and I’m hopeful that treatment and accommodations will help me find academic success, but the state of our local university is grim, and the options for neurodivergent people (even if it’s “just” ADHD) looks grimmer.
I worked in disability care for eight years, and spent the latter half of that trying to organize, unionize and lobby my state legislature for a higher rate of care. I mostly worked in group homes for adults with intellectual and developmental disabilities. The standard of care was abysmal.
A narcissistic part of me feels like I, alone, stood up to the abuse and negligence in my workplace, and that I, alone, made an effort to rally my coworkers to do something. That narcissistic part of me looks back at the times I tabled for the DSA, the IWW, the times I lobbied with the SEIU, the times I tried to put a stop to ableism in the group homes where I worked, and that part sees all the people who failed to act. That part of me lays the blame for all this at the feet of citizens who that part of me views as careless, cowardly and unempathetic.
I know that part of me comes from a wounded place. I know that people have fought harder than I have. That the fight continues and we’re not alone.
But damn is it hard to resist the urges of that wounded, resentful, bitter part of myself.