Dissociatedbi - This Blog Is My Therapist's Idea

able-bodied ppl please get your shit together. i’m tired of having to remind y’all every other second that, yes, ambulatory wheelchair users do in fact exist.

Disabled people deserve government assistance and benefits. Even if they have incomes. Even if their spouses have incomes. Even if both they and their spouses have incomes.

Because being disabled is fucking expensive, even with affordable healthcare, even under the best circumstances and in the most accessible situations.

thirty-four

bday comics: thirty-three

AN: I have an acquired brain injury, and always have a lot of feels about it on my birthday! so, disability bday comics are now a thing :)

[ID: a ten panel comic drawn in simple black ink with messily drawn borders.

One - I sit cross-legged on a sofa with an open laptop in front of me. Text reads: "And what do you do for work?" "I'm on disability." "Oh. And is it permanent?" "I mean. It's been over four years since my mTBI."

Two - Frame zooms in showing just my torso and chin. Text: "So yeah, probably."

Three - I sit forward on the couch with elbows on knees and chin resting on folded hands and sigh. It shows my whole body. I am a white non-binary person with a curly mullet, glasses, and wearing a t-shirt and ripped jeans. Text: The doctor calls me "dear" as she ends the call. It's been a long year."

Four - I stand and walk away. The image shows just my legs and the couch behind me. Text: When I first got injured, permanency was the scariest possibility. The idea of a lifetime of pain and fatigue made survival feel impossible.

Five - I stand holding a cupboard open, my back to the viewer. The open cupboard shows that it's very full of mugs and tea supplies. Text: It's not so scary, anymore. And it no longer feels just like surviving.

Six - A close up shot of a kettle steaming. Text: There's still grief, trapped under my ribcage. But I think there always will be. I've had to put away so many dreams, said goodbye to who I once was.

Seven - Close up shot showing hot water being poured from the kettle into a handmade mug. Text reads: But in the space left empty, new things have grown. New hopes. New dreams. New understandings of myself.

Eight - Close up shot of my hands holding a steaming mug of tea. Text: This injury might be permanent - but it might not be. No one really knows for sure. I love my life. I love my body, and my brain, all the messy disabled parts of it.

Nine - A full shot showing me sitting on my sofa again, and holding a large blanket out in front of me, as if getting ready to wrap it over my legs. Text: If this is the rest of my life, then what a gift to live it. I'm not done growing, hoping, grieving, healing. Still trying, and trying, and trying.

Ten - I sit on my sofa with the blanket wrapped over my legs, leaning against a cushion. I am sketching in a ringed book held on my lap, and my tea mug rests on the blanket beside the book. I am smiling slightly and look content. On the wall behind me is a quilted progress pride flag. Text: It's messy, complicated, and beautiful. But isn't that what life is?

The comic is signed h. graves '23. End ID.]

signs you were not doing well as a child:

you spent most of your time in your room/alone, not because you wanted to, but because it was the safest thing to do

you had to worry about whether you’d be able to eat safely that day, or if you’d be met with insults, attacks and/or being chased away from food

you wanted to inflict harm onto yourself and felt it was normal to want to harm you

you inflicted harm onto your body

you spent a long time having imaginary conversations in your head where you tried to prove somehow that you were not as bad as everyone make it seem, or that someone cares about you

you sank into obsessions in order to get thru whatever was going on

you felt as if you were barely making it thru, and if there was just one more thing you’d have to deal with, you wouldn’t be able to take it

you had wild fantasies about someone taking you away from all of this and taking you somewhere safe where you wouldn’t be despised

you never felt at home, you felt like you didn’t have a home

you looked for every possible place to hide, in order to feel safe for a little while, both to keep your enjoyment secret and in case of a danger, you needed to have a hiding place

you were scared of all of your enjoyment being taken away the second people found out

you had to spend more time doing chores or taking care of others, than you could spend developing your own friendships and life

you felt inexplicably and endlessly lonely, you dreamed of one day having friends and it felt unreachable, impossible, like asking for too much

you never cried, or hid when you cried, feeling ashamed and weak

you over-indulged into a tv show, or a computer game, or a piece of media, to the point where it didn’t feel like you lived at all unless you were interacting with it

sometimes the insults and the shaming you endured got to you to the point where you believed things would be better if you didn’t exist

you were constantly trying to check if your parents actually cared for you or not, and took any tiny hint of attention, even negative attention, as a possible proof that they might care, but you could never know for sure which it was

you were scared of getting abandoned, getting kicked out of the house, getting left on the street, you even tried to plan what you would do if it happened

you had moments when you felt like the worst person to ever live

you thought about ending your life, to stop the pain 

you felt guilt and shame so large, you thought there was nothing in the world that could possibly redeem you

you ran to hide when your family member would come home, you couldn’t bear being seen in ‘their part of the house’ (living room, dining room)

you were reluctant to admit anything that was bothering you to your parents or caretakers, because you already knew they would either blame you, or use it against you

you spiraled into dark thoughts, all on your own, telling no one

you experienced feeling so numb and lifeless, you didn’t know what was wrong with you, and it scared you

you couldn’t imagine yourself going far in the future, or accomplishing much at all, you felt it would be a miracle if you’re alive later on

you tried to blame yourself for anything that had ever happened to you, trying to get control over it, trying to make it so it doesn’t happen again

you got into media that is restricted for children (extreme violence, gruesome horror and gore, sexually explicit and sexually violent materials) and you absorbed it and told no one about it

you endured being harassed or violated by a predator and told no one about it

you were constantly scared of what everyone else was thinking and saying about you

you were ashamed of things you did and said and worried endlessly that somehow you caused something bad to happen

you felt as if your worst fear would always, always come true

Jess Sharp

January was a tough year but we made it

TW self harm, alcohol

I got home and fucking cut my foot and got drunk and now I'm just laying here with a paper towel inside my sock, feeling so fucking much better. I feel bad because I plan to lie to my husband if he asks about my foot, but not bad enough to not do it I guess. I don't want him to know so I'm not telling anyone irl.

I'm just. I'm so tired and it's been a bad, triggering af day, and this is what I've chosen to do about it. I'm in my fucking thirties and I'm still acting like a fucking dumbass.

I don't want to be alone right now but my husband isn't going to be home for hours and nobody is answering the phone and. Idk.

I'm just here. Trying to stay alive. Trying to convince myself to stay alive.

Your best is what you can do without harming your mental and physical health, not what you can accomplish when you disregard it.