I Feel Like People Should Know There Are Differences Between A Kleptomaniac And A "mwehehehe I'm Stealing

‘how do you expect people who have been abused by someone with NPD to refer to their abuse then?’

by calling it what it is: emotional abuse.

it’s not difficult.

slapping the word ‘narcissistic’ on the front of abuse is blindly assigning blame and associating the abusive behaviours with NPD, despite the fact that nowhere in the criteria does it state any abusive behaviours as a symptom.

i understand that people who are severely mentally unwell are more prone to abusing others, however to point the blame at a disorder (and therefore at everyone with the disorder) is ableist, irresponsible and grossly misinformed.

to put it into perspective as to how bad the stigma surrounding NPD is, i have been diagnosed with NPD and have been told i should be killed because of it, that i will inevitably abuse my partners i have had, i’ve had partners in the past be harassed by people saying that it’s ‘just a matter of time’ before i abuse them without any of these people ever even knowing me. i see endless amounts of things online calling all narcissists evil, as well as having my own experiences with abuse disregarded because they do not believe someone with NPD could be anything other than a perpetrator, despite the fact NPD is induced by trauma. the list goes on.

your choice of wording does matter and it does damage people with NPD.

Psoriasis on my forehead got really bad (mom says it looks like I have a chemical burn) so now I have to be emo and do the swoop fringe until it goes away. Ugh.

If you’re someone without a personality disorder trying to defend people with personality disorders, you get told that you’ve been manipulated and brainwashed and can’t be trusted.

If you’re someone with a personality disorder trying to defend yourself, you get told that you’re manipulative and dangerous and can’t be trusted.

There really is no way for us to win.

the thing about disability is it really does sometimes boil down to "wow i wish i could do that" and then you can't. and it sucks.

"Fun" little things I did as a pyromaniac growing up (with possibly a hint of pyrophilia)

-staring into every candle flame ever especially the tealights around the house

-staring directly into every fireplace, the automatic one my grandparents had, the fake one at Tim Hortons, the display fire at a lobby in what was probably an airport

-staring and watching the flames of campfires and bonfires, watching with a smile as marshmallows caught fire, paper and cardboard turned to ash, the wood for kindle cracked and popped as it turned to charcoal even watching while my eyes watered from the smoak

- playing with lighters once I taught myself how to use them and got over the hot sting of the metal on my thumb when it's been recently lit. Flicking it over and over till the sparks turn to a steady flame and doing it again when the flame dies out

- burned my hair clippings in my friends garage after she did my hair during high school

- burned old school papers I no longer needed

- accidentally burned a while in a plastic bag full of garbage and created a burnt mess in my room after trying to burn some receipts over the garbage so the ashes would fall into the bag but instead the stuff in the bag caught fire and yeah wasn't fun cleaning up

- stole from my mom's tealight stash and burned candle after candle

- left a candle burning too long and got wax everywhere

- enjoyed standing in the candle isle in stores and wishing I could have them all except the scented ones

- got happy when places my mom took me too had some sort of flame like a candle in the corner even if it was scented (cuz it was usually mild and okay enough for my sensory issues to handle, like lavender or vanilla)

- got sad or bored when other people blew out birthday candles

- waited for cars to catch fire while driving past a crash scene. They never did

- related way too hard to the meme with the girl and the burning house behind her

- thought burnt down buildings were aesthetically pleasing

- loved every fire scene in media especially loving stuff with explosions

- staring at YouTube videos for days about people burning stuff, blowing stuff up, watching lava, worked with hot metal etc

- got fixated on the tv whenever the fireplace channel was on

- got way to into science class when fire was involved and asked the teachers assistant to demonstrate again so I could sit with her and watch tirth up paper turn to ash

- proceeding to poke said ashes

- always trying to touch something after its been burned

- sometimes enjoying the smell of burnt food like popcorn or pancakes

- trying to see how long I could hold something that was on fire

- daydreamed about fire eating esp after mark and Ethan did it for unus anus that one time

- proceed to ask my mom for sparklers after my friends mom stood us on the back deck and and gave us all a bunch of sparklers to hold and watch fizzle for my friends birthday. Never got sparklers

- daydreamed about lighting the matches I had given my mom after finding them near our back yard. At least I was responsible and didn't let my little siblings have them when I found them.

- related far too deeply to this girl in a book of misfits who lit matches and put them out on her arm just to feel something.

- again with a girl who did something similar with a lighter on her thighs in some show my mom watched.

- loved every character ever with fire powers

- wished I was a firebender like Zuko and being afraid of the fact that I related to azula just as much as I did Zuko. But also thinking azuka was badass until I realized we're both just mentally ill.

- demanding fire resistance even if I didn't play a teifling in dnd

- dragons.

- saved and still save up things like leaves from my house plants just so I can burn them later

- purposefully trying anything to do with fire in my witchcraft, whatever involves fire and burning stuff I wanted to do

- made several attempts to start a fire without any idea how to make one

- tried lighting a fire in our firepit during winter, did not last

And much more

Pyromania is not just burning down a building one day, not just waking up one day and deciding to start fires on people's property or blow stuff up and become a terror and a menace.

Pyromania is much much more than staring at flames as a kid because its visually stimulating, and more than just being drawn to the fire element.

It's impulses, it's intrusive thoughts, it's the small things for satisfaction, it builds up, it typically starts during childhood development because we're all fucking mentally ill and likely very traumatized.

It's not quirky or cool, it gets scary.

It kept me from doing worse things, it saved me when my brain chemistry was so unbalanced I would have done a lot of regrettable things, it terrorises my mind with constant "what if x burned or you burned x" thoughts

And so on

It's never been a thing to take lightly

"i say the r-slur as reclamation" Ohhh okay then. Goodbye

People always think that if a disabled person says they can't do something it's because they haven't tried, when in reality most of us say it because we HAVE tried and failed enough times to know for sure

That's right. It looks like the two adult characters did physically get on top of her, restrain her, and put weight on her. Of course there could have been some cinema magic in place to protect Maddie, who was a child, from being injured, but it looks a lot like they put at least half of their weight on the poor girl and even that could have seriously hurt her or started to suffocate her. Did she have a hand signal to tell the crew that something was wrong and she needed the scene to cut? Wait, her hands were restrained. How was she supposed to communicate that she genuinely needed help and wasn't just pretending to be panicked? Restraints like that could have made speech very difficult, maybe impossible. So yeah, Maddy very much could have been in actual danger.

Considering how little Sia seems to care about putting people in danger with what she's portraying, I wouldn't put it past her. Doing this safely would have required careful planning and a lot of effort she seemed at loathe to put in.

People are right to point out the use of dangerous restraint methods in Music in the context of its impact on the autistic community, but I'm also concerned about how they actually filmed it? Like maybe I'm missing something, idk a lot about filming movies and such, but if they actually did that restraint, doesn't that mean Maddy Ziegler was put in danger?

Why “It Was Just a Question” and “It Was Just a Joke” Are Not Defenses For Ableism And Why Your Reaction Is the Most Important Thing

When someone is disabled, neurodiverse, etc people can sometimes ask really ignorant, invasive, or invalidating questions that take emotional labor to answer. And sometimes there is a lot of pressure to answer. This is even worse if it is a joke instead, and the options are to ignore it or say something and risk being yelled at because “it was just a joke, gosh.” Confronting people and setting boundaries gets you called over-sensitive, over-reacting, childish, etc.

I’ll make this clear: it isn’t about your questions or jokes - it is about the assumptions you made when you opened your mouth and the reaction you had when you were corrected.

Let’s Talk About Questions.

I first want to say, I started this blog because I wanted to. You are more free to ask me questions than random blind people on the street. The questions I receive here are also good, researched questions where I can tell someone has read my blog or some articles. I’m not posting to give my followers or anyone else anxiety. The whole point is that these people don’t have an interest in learning, doing any of their own work, or challenging their false beliefs. They want me to endure them and confirm them. I haven’t had to do that here and if I did, it would be easier than in real life because I can choose not to answer a question by deleting it. My followers are also already respectful of and educated on blind people, and so if I have a response that is less than perfectly polite, readers will know why. That is not true outside of this blog.

Now let’s talk about questions and why they can be used in a bad way. What makes a question bad? What is the difference between a genuine and ignorant question? What if you don’t have time to research?

A Bad question here is one that is based on a usually false assumption that prompts a desired answer. An example would be, “Are you really sad that you can’t read?” or “Why would a blind person need a phone when they can’t use it?”

I see a lot of these on tumblr. For example, one blog I followed received an ask that basically said blind people couldn’t be in the orchestra because such and such limitation. These questions have, at best, an obvious assumption along with, at times, a confrontational tone. This person does not want education. They want to defend their belief. A better way to truly ask such a question would be something such as, “I read that people in orchestras and choir have to sight read music. How do blind people navigate this?” No assumption is made about a blind person’s ability. The question is asked in an open manner. The asker has done some research.

Now, in real life, people don’t always preface it with how much research they have done. And let’s be real, it usually isn’t much. But someone asking, “Do you prefer Braille or do you use a computer to read?” shows at least some knowledge. They aren’t trying to put me into a box or use me for confirmation bias. It isn’t so much about getting the perfect wording. It’s about not expecting the blind person to confirm something for you, argue with you, or educate you without you putting in any effort. Even “I was wondering how you do assignments,” is open and allows for my response. If you aren’t able to research in the moment, make your question open or be transparent. To be honest, I feel better about people not doing research in person than online, because being online usually shows you have some time and tools to research. If resources are not available to you and you don’t have the internet for long periods of time, preface your question with that and acknowledge that the person does not have to respond if your question is offensive. Again,it isn’t about getting it 100% right, but truly trying and prioritizing the comfort of the person you are asking.

When I confront people for asking a question with an assumption, I often receive an angry response. The fault is placed on me for not educating people, for not being cooperative, for being mean. This happens whether I answer or not. If I try to explain to someone assuming I can’t read that I, in fact, can read or use a phone or whatever, this is seen as rude or not cooperative. Even confrontational. This person comes away from the conversation now believing blind people are rude and angry. Usually they assume the blind person is jealous of them for being able to see. Which, in that instance, would not be true.

Making assumptions that a person cannot possibly do something because of their disability, especially when you are ignoring what that person says, is ableist. Pointing this out is not attacking you or even, necessarily, judging you. They are not calling you any other name, no matter what else you claim it means to you. (I once had someone claim that when I said the word ableism or ableist she heard the word bitch.)

Let’s Talk About Jokes.

This one is much harder to navigate, especially because blind people often make jokes themselves. However, I want to continue to consider the underlying assumption and judgement some jokes can contain. The joke is usually bad when it contains an ignorant assumption and falls apart when that assumption is corrected.

One example is that picture that often goes around with a person holding a white cane is using a phone. The joke asks what’s wrong with the picture. The problem is not that it’s a joke, as most people assume. The problem is the assumption underneath this particular example, which, by the way, can result in blind people being harassed and even hurt. Read my post here.

But it isn’t even the joke that is the problem. The reaction is. Instead of being accused to attacking someone for an innocent question, someone who points out the problem with a joke or even that it was hurtful, gets someone accused of not having a sense of humor or being mean. I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing that in real life, not outside of this blog. It is, honestly, too difficult and too uncomfortable.

The reaction people sometimes have is one of defense. They aren’t ableist, it was just a joke, can’t you take a joke?, why are you so serious?, you are ruining the joke, etc. People also assume disabled people can’t tell when someone has made a mistake and when they are genuinely asking a question or trying to call attention to something by making a joke. Disabled people are not trying to take all jokes away. They just want to point out when something is harmful. Doubling down about how that person can’t take a joke is a big problem.

Again, it isn’t that someone made a joke about disabled people. It’s the assumptions inside the joke itself that are harmful. For example, jokes about blind people going to cinemas don’t land because blind people do watch movies. The joke falls apart when you remove the assumption - and not knowing that it was an assumption is part of the problem in the first place.

What Now?

Again, this post was never about not asking questions or not making jokes. It is about ways they can go wrong and how people can make it worse by getting defensive instead of being open to learning and moving on. Everyone makes assumptions or repeats jokes sometimes, and whether or not it becomes an argument is about being open to learning.

Disabled people aren’t out there looking for people to confront. Most of the time, they just want to go about their day or have a nice time with friends. If someone corrects you, no matter the setting, treat it as an opportunity for your growth and to make others feel more comfortable. Listen, apologize, acknowledge your mistake, and change your behavior.

My aim here is not to complain or to make people feel bad or even worry excessively. My goal was simply to share my thoughts on why these things can be a problem and offer suggestions on how to avoid them.

I hope this helps.

-BlindBeta

Note: I provide sensitivity reading for blind characters. See my Pinned Post for information.

this is going to be a long post, it's kinda just me writing all my raw unfiltered thoughts on ABA therapy as someone who actually went through it

-> TW for ABA therapy, child abuse, suicide <-

I was functionally diagnosed with autism at the age of 3 but it wasn't until I was 13 that I was actually formally evaluated for it and given an official diagnosis. I was behind in social skills and developmental skills

[ID: "was also described as a sensory seeker. She does not currently have any friends and has struggled to make and maintain peer relationships throughout her childhood. Difficulties with social skills were initially noted when she was in preschool (years before the onset of clinically significant symptoms of anxiety and"]

[ID: "Social functions: [blank]'s mother also completed a questionnaire rating her social responsiveness. Her responses on the SRS-2 indicated that [blank] is demonstrating severe deficits in the areas of Social Communication (reciprocal social interaction and nonverbal and verbal communication), Social Motivation (motivation to engage in social-interpersonal behavior) and Social Awareness (perceiving social cues) and moderate deficits in the areas of Social Cognition (understanding social cues). Severe Repetitive and Restrictive Behaviors (stereotypical behaviors or highly restricted interests) were also reported. The total T-score on the SRS-2 indicates severe deficiencies in reciprocal behavior that are likely to result in interference in everyday social interaction"]

[ID: "%ile) are mildly impaired, while her social skills are moderately impaired (2nd %ile). By domain, demonstrates mildly to moderately impaired abilities in six adaptive skills areas, including self care (9th %ile), communication (5th %ile), home living (5th %ile), self-direction (2nd %ile), social (2nd %ile), and leisure (1st %ile)"]

and ultimately all this ended up with the number one recommendation after my autism evaluation being for ABA therapy.

[ID: "Recommendations: Based on the above results, the following recommendations are made for [blank] and her family.

1. ABA therapy: [blank] May benefit from an intensive treatment program to foster cognitive and communication skills, improve independence and adaptive functioning, and help manage interfering behaviors (i.e home-based, 1:1 instruction, task analysis, etc.) Most private and community programs are based on principals of operant conditioning and taught in home with 1:1 instruction"]

*I'm getting misgendered here. my pronouns are he/him

"operant conditioning"-- like a dog 🐕🐕. woof woof.

my mom didn't know any better so she put me in ABA therapy with the Center for Autism and Related Disorders. she regrets this. I regret this more.

my autism evaluation was cruel, it dissected all my flaws as if I was a bug under a microscope in a highschool laboratory. my evaluation was passed around to ABA therapists, a line of high schoolers peering through the microscope examining the most vulnerable parts of me.

and I choose the highschool analogy quite deliberately. most of the ABA therapists at my center were recent highschool graduates with no degree and little training. they knew nothing about autism and had no qualifications. you need more certificates to become a professional dog trainer than to become a professional human trainer.

"operant conditioning"

and I wish I could say it was just a poor choice of words but ABA therapy was dog training for children. my dad used to call me an "it" and somehow I felt less dehumanized by that than the entire experience I had in ABA therapy.

I was the oldest person at my center (I did not receive in home therapy) with the next oldest being approximately 3 years younger than me. at the time I felt babied. I was surrounded by 5 year olds and I was treated as if I was not just a 5 year old but an autistic 5 year old and anyone who has been a visibly autistic 5 year old knows what that feels like. I had escaped being an autistic child and now I was being treated like one again. The head of the program tried to console me by telling me adults received their services too.

[ID: "Following the principles of applied behavior analysis, CARD has developed a treatment approach for children and adolescents with"]

this was the first lie they told me. CARD does not work with adults.

I was not allowed the privileges of being a 13 year old. because I was an autistic 13 year old and therefore I was the equivalent of a 5 year old. I was in psychotherapy at the same time and I had grown very accustomed to some level of freedom in therapy. I was allowed to use the bathroom independently. in ABA therapy I was not allowed to use the bathroom independently. I tried once, me and my therapist were on an "outing" to the grocery store and I told my therapist I was going to the bathroom and walked off and I got a very stern talking to about how I needed to "stop eloping" and if I didn't stop it would "become a behavior"

eloping became a common theme used to control me and squeeze money out of my parents.

out of everything I hated in my life, including severe physical abuse at home (which they did not report), I hated ABA therapy the most. I would repeatedly make serious threats of suicide to try to get out of ABA. no one cared. everyone thought I was being dramatic but there were times I wrote out suicide notes and ABA was among the reasons I listed. ABA made me feel hopeless, depressed, revolting, disgusting, inferior, and less than human. between ABA, my home life, and my social life I had never felt so hated and it was boiling through my skin. I acted out, I was bullying people, I was behaving recklessly, I was starting fights, and all this only made the oppressive force of ABA crack down on me harder. I was a cat hissing in the corner begging to be left alone and ABA brought a net to try to tame me further. every time I scratched back it was listed as a reason I needed to be there.

I was "disruptive" and "rebellious" and "uncooperative" and "resistant to treatment" and no one could figure out why I was "regressing" despite me shouting the answer. I was screaming and no one was willing to hear me

I hated myself and my autism. my autism diagnosis made me want to die. I didn't feel freed by it or understood I felt ashamed and disgusted. I felt incompetent and like I had failed. I was ashamed to be at ABA, it was my biggest secret. I'd lie to my friends about why I couldn't hang out and I'd lie to people in public about who the woman I was with was and I'd lie about all of it to try to cover up my most shameful secret.

ABA therapy did nothing but foster this. In ABA therapy I was mocked for being autistic and what was happening only clicked when a young kid, maybe only 4 or 5, was flapping his hands and a therapist took out her phone and recorded him. we were circus animals. it was all an entertaining show to them while they poked and prodded at us with metaphorical hot irons to make us dance. the first time a therapist laughed at me for rocking back and forth I wanted to throw up. I almost did. it was systematic bullying of children I was forced to watch and experience.

my point is: the last place on earth I wanted to be was the ABA center.

so of course I tried to leave. my mom would bring me McDonald's and I'd beg, sobbing real tears, to leave early because only she could sign me out. every time I'd go to meet her I'd be marked as "eloping" and my hotel stay in hell would get extended.

my natural response to a stressful environment (leaving) was pathologized. I was eloping this way and that way and never once did I actually, truly elope. that word was a weapon used against me. they used my "elopement" to justify extending my stay to my parents. they ate it right up.

they argued I needed to stay there because I was making friends. this was true, I'm great at getting along with children it's part of why I want to go into pediatrics, but I had also made real friends with people my age at my highschool. ABA was getting in the way. I wanted to spend time with my friends outside of school but ABA took up all my time from the minute I left school to 6pm and all day on weekends. I was doing a full time job's worth of hours. I complained about how I was missing out on spending time with my real friends (as in, over the age of 7) and I was met with almost no wiggle room in my schedule. I was allowed to pre-plan time to spend with friends but every time my friend group wanted to do something spontaneously? I had to say no, and I had to lie about why. my friends would share stories about driving around town with 2 people in the group stuffed in the trunk, of hanging out in the woods together, of taking part in ordinary highschool activities as ordinary high schoolers and it made me cry because I was not an ordinary highschooler and I was not allowed to participate in ordinary highschool activities. I was one of those weird, unpleasant, socially awkward autistic people instead. eventually, they just stopped inviting me. I was forced into the out group by ABA.

I'll never get that back. I'll never get a chance to be a normal highschooler ever again.

when I did have time available to hang out with people I never had the energy to. at the time I was living with an undiagnosed physical disability and I was begging to see a doctor but no one would believe that it wasn't just anxiety. the people who believed me least of all were the people at the center.

I was constantly told I was trying to get out of therapy by "feigning" very real pain and fatigue. I tried to explain spoon theory, and that I had limited spoons, and in response they made a task for me to name things to "regenerate spoons" that's not how it works. I wasn't the only physically disabled person there. there was a wheelchair user who was constantly forced to stand for periods of time despite being in agony doing it. he wasn't allowed rewards until he did it.

rewards were used to train us like dog treats are used with dogs. sometimes the treats were fun! I'd get to cook, play Mario kart, and go on outings. other times the treats were "using the correct name and pronouns for me." I'd constantly be threatened with deadnaming and misgendering if I was being "noncompliant."

misgendering because of my autism was a theme in my life. my neuropsych evaluation report misgendered me. my parents misgendered me. the staff at ABA misgendered me. at one point the head of the program suggested that my "gender confusion" was because of my autism. my abusive father latched onto this and still claims that the reason I'm "confused" about my gender is because the evil transgenders tricked me into thinking I'm one of them because I'm autistic and therefore easily impressionable.

the two therapists I had were nice because I refused to work with the others. they weren't on a power trip and both eventually left because they realized the harm the organization was doing. other therapists were not so kind. other therapists were on a power trip, because in their mind lording over autistic 5 year olds (and autistic 14 year olds) makes them powerful and strong. occasionally I'd get stuck with one of the other therapists when my usual therapists were out. they would talk to me in a baby voice. they would make fun of me for rocking back and forth, for not making eye contact, for talking about Skyrim "too much" and generally just for being autistic.

I never really knew what I was supposed to be doing, just that I was doing it wrong. the therapists there rarely actually told me what my tasks were they'd just mark yes or no on them, judging me for something I wasn't aware of. I was never actually supposed to graduate, I was never supposed to get out, if they wanted me to succeed they would have taught and explained what was happening but I was intentionally left in the dark.

I continued threatening suicide to get out. no one took me seriously. I was seriously considering it. there's no happy conclusion where someone finally realized it was all wrong, or I figured out how to be allistic and graduated, or I felt more comfortable there. I only got out when covid struck and shut the center down. it's gone now, replaced by a family advice center. I hope their advice for autistic children is to never put them in ABA.

there is no grander message here just suffering. I'm sorry if you were expecting some sort of great point at the end of this. there's not one. it happened, I wish it didn't, and I hope no one else experiences what I did ever again.

okay to reblog