Sometimes A Healthy Relationship Isn't 50/50 Because It Can't Be, And That's Okay.

abusive dad, approaching at random: WHY DIDN’T YOU GET THIS THING DONE ALREADY?!

me: what? you didn’t tell me to do it

abusive dad: DOES EVERYTHING NEED TO BE DRAWN OUT FOR YOU?? YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE TO BE TOLD!! HOW OLD ARE YOU?? CAN’T YOU DO ONE SIMPLE THING??

me: so you can’t even be expected to tell me when you want me to get something done? i’m supposed to read your mind?

abusive dad: YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO KNOW!!! WHY DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU EVERYTHING?!!

me, internally: wtf even is this. was this just an excuse to scream at me. ah. thats what it was.

every day living with my disabilities is just an endless refrain of “the world does not treat me gently so i must treat myself gently, even when it’s hard” and i must never ever forget that

Dude I have never felt older than I felt when I cried over the final Brooks & Capehart of 2022 because they hijacked the segment to tell Judy Woodruff that her journalism is a gift to the world, on her last night as anchor for the NewsHour.

theres a petition going around for ssi that can allow disabled people to have more than 1000 dollars to their name. please consider signing!

(this helps disabled people outside of those with sma, but this is personalized for sma.)

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something that’s so frustrating to me is when people (usually able-bodied people lol) tell disabled people how sad/uncomfortable their very existence makes them.

“it makes me so sad to look at u” “just thinking about how hard everything must be for u makes me want to cry” “i cant imagine living like that”

like. that’s your fucking problem to deal with. don’t put your feelings on us like that. we are not a receptacle for your ableism and guilt.

disabled people are not doing anything wrong by just existing. we don’t need to be told how uncomfortable it is to see a person who looks different from most other people existing in public, or even in their own homes. it just feels so unnecessarily cruel, even if it isn’t “intended” to be. it’s not our job to process your feelings + it’s not our job to change for you. fuck off.

This was my 4th Christmas without my mother. Every year, I am struck by how much of a fucking relief it is. I was told by so many people that I would regret my decision, that I would miss her, that "she's your mom and you only get one."

I don't miss her. My life has been objectively better without her.

I miss believing I had a mom who loved me, but that started a long time before I cut her out.

I don't miss the panic I felt seeing her name on my caller id. I don't miss her manipulation. I don't miss her parentifying me. I don't miss the burden of caring for her in her old age looming over my head like a fucking guillotine. I don't miss her guilt or her lies or her abuse.

I don't miss her. I don't miss her. I don't miss her. I feel free.

I do not want to be sick. I am sick and want to be taken seriously. There's a difference.

“And I don’t think anybody should feel bad if they get diagnosed with a mental illness, ’cause it’s just information about you that helps you to know how to take better care of yourself.

“Being bipolar, there’s nothing wrong with it. Being bipolar is like not knowing how to swim. It might be embarrassing to tell people, and it might be hard to take you certain places. But they have arm floaties. And if you just take your arm floaties, you can go wherever the hell you want.

“And I know some of you are like, ‘But Taylor, what if people judge me for taking arm floaties?’ Well, those people don’t care if you live or die, so maybe who cares? Maybe fuck those people a little. I don’t know.”

Taylor Tomlinson, Look At You (2022)