People love to talk about whether or not disabled people can work
but if you can work just fine and your disability is destroying your ability to have a life outside of work (because work takes all your energy and more)
Dead silence. Nobody cares.
File this under, oh you can be active for 4 hours? You can work part-time. Um no, I have to get ready for work (30 min) get to work (15 min) get home from work (15 min) feed myself all day (30 min) maintain myself, my home and my life (15 min, yeah right), which leaves 15 min for work and absolutely nothing else.
This is so accurate, back after I’d relapsed I wanted to try and go in for one class at school so I could still stay in contact with the education system. I let slip during a meeting that I managed to drag myself to that I could manage about 4 hours of activity a week, which the teacher sprang on to mean I was being lazy for just trying to get to 1 hour class. Never matter that it was 30 minutes travel, that I would have to get washed and dressed, that I would probably still need to recover for 3 days from it.
Far too often abled people see the things they do easily as “non activities”, they don’t realise that for many disabled people these things have to be carefully planned and measured, and sometimes they simply can’t be done.
reblog bc the non activities thing seems really important words
I get X number of pain-free steps per day right now, which means that, for large conventions (like SDCC), I need to be in a mobility device. I had someone ask if I used up my steps every day before transferring to the scooter, and look surprised and a little horrified when I said “no, I save them so I can go to the bathroom unassisted.” Like, they had never considered that walking is involved in peeing.
!
Reblogging for the important point that the term “activity” may mean something very different and much broader for a disabled person with a chronic pain or fatigue related condition compared to its meaning for a non disabled person. If you’re tired enough, simply sitting up in a chair rather than lying in bed is an activity that drains energy otherwise usable for other things. A thing I knew from other people with pain and fatigue related conditions, but worth reinforcing for followers who didnt know or had forgotten.
As a lot of people aren’t familiar with plot creatures, I thought I’d shed some light on the members of the mental menagerie…
The Plot Bunny – Story ideas that come bounding in and start multiplying.
The Plot Chicken – They squawk, flap around, and shit everywhere, but
when you actually need to do something with them, they scatter.
The Plot Sloth – Takes its sweet goddamned time turning into something useful.
The Plot Mule – When you mash two plots together and get something
cool, but you can’t get a sequel out of it to save your life.
The
Plot Cat – Lazy little bastards who take up your headspace, scare away
all the other plot bunnies, but won’t actually do anything except lay
there.
The Plottweiler – Barks loudly and viciously so you can’t
ignore it, distracts you from everything else you want to write, but
leaves you too paralyzed with fear to actually put words down.
The Plot Squirrel – Cute, distracting, full of nuts, and just TRY to keep up with that train of thought.
The Plot Bedbug – Shows up during the night, chews on you so you can’t sleep, and disappears in the daylight.
The Plot Tick – Burrows in, bleeds you dry, and leaves you with the creepy-crawlies. Mostly preys on horror writers.
The Plotroach – Totally unappealing, but so tenacious they’ll survive anything until you finally give up and write them.
what the fuck is with men and how they write women taking showers honestly. like all of that back-arching mouth-half-open luxoriously-running-fingers-through-hair shit. straight dudes thinkin girls are like damn-near climax from just being naked, whats w/ that
from now on the only female shower scenes ill accept involve either; a).
sitting in a ball on the shower floor or b). standing completely still while staring into the abyss absentmindedly and scratching your ass. anything else gets a 0 and a “see me after class”
Men who do this refuse to conceptualise female nudity as anything other than a sexualised performance designed to titillate them. They feel so entitled to our private lives that they create this horrible, voyeuristic fantasy whereby everything we do (even when completely alone) is about being sexy for them. This in turn informs fantasies whereby they seek to violate our private lives through surveilling us, whereby they see our desire for privacy as nothing but a conscious, coquettish refusal to titillate them.
In writing us this way, they deny us our humanity by denying that we ever exist and think and feel externally to them.
BettSplendens Tumblr Evac 