DISABLED ISNT A DIRTY WORD STOP ACTING LIKE IT IS.
DONT CALL ME âDIFFERENTLY ABLEDâ OR OTHER BULLSHIT TERMS THE ABLEDS ARE PUSHING.
DISABLED ISNT A DIRTY WORD.
CALL ME DISABLED.
IM DISABLED.
SAY IT

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@deathofsix
DISABLED ISNT A DIRTY WORD STOP ACTING LIKE IT IS.
DONT CALL ME âDIFFERENTLY ABLEDâ OR OTHER BULLSHIT TERMS THE ABLEDS ARE PUSHING.
DISABLED ISNT A DIRTY WORD.
CALL ME DISABLED.
IM DISABLED.
SAY IT
it gets to me sometimes how uncomfortable people are when they find out iâm still sick. itâs always a mix of pity and genuine discomfort and i never quite now how im supposed to react to it.
like the girl i was good friends with in school for years who took notes for me in our shared lesson when i stopped coming to school, who saw me in the pub a few years later with a cane and asked âoh god whatâs wrong with you!â and looked uncomfortable when i responded âstill the same thing as beforeâ
seeing parents of people i went to school with who know me and know how i was as a child and they cheerfully ask âso you still got that thing going on?â (itâs always thing. never illness or sickness or condition) and then get surprised when i say that yes, the lifelong chronic illness i have is lifelong and chronic!
the thing is, i really donât think a lot of people grasp what a chronic illness is!!! itâs not something i just grow out of, itâs not something thatâs healed by a couple years passing. but people donât like to think about that. because they remember how i was before, when i was healthier, and look and listen to how i am now and realise that i really am never going to be that person again. and they think of themselves and their loved ones and get nervous and itchy about it because they know me getting sick wasnât caused by something preventable, it just happened.
and i know theyâre probably looking for a surface level âyeah iâm okay.â or for me to just brush it off but i donât and never will because i need people to get comfortable with the idea that they are never above getting sick. and i donât mean that in a fearmongering way i donât say that to upset people i say that because understanding brings compassion and god knows disabled people deserve more compassion !
thereâs a world out there that abled people will never even begin to understand unless they sit with that uncomfortable feeling properly! thereâs a world out there that they may very well become part of, a world thatâs not built for disabled people to thrive, or even survive. itâs not made for us and they are always just one step away and i need people to get compassionate and maybe they need to be selfish about it too! maybe the change they make in looking outwards at the state of accessibility and the lives of disabled people will come from discomfort and a feeling of dread that they could one day be beaten down by the very same system that affects us today! if fear of your own future and the potential future of your loved ones is what gets you to open your eyes and start attempting to change and help those disabled people around you, then maybe you need to get selfish!
i wonât sanitise the life i lead now, i wonât downplay the fact that i am saddled with one hell of a shitty body cause i need people uncomfortable, because only when theyâre forced to face something will it bring change !!!
anyway.
i wish there was a way to talk about alcohol dependency because of my disability without sounding like an edgy teenager. but even saying that just circles right back to what i was going to complain about (infantilisation of disabled people)
iâm essentially just rehashing thoughts iâd posted to twt back in 2023 about the sanitisation of disabled peopleâs experiences and how it always links to infantilisation and saviour complexes. but god itâs so infuriating to find myself falling into ways of thinking that are exactly what iâm complaining about. talking about how i rely on alcohol makes me feel like a kid. because a lot of ableds treat disabled people with âunhealthyâ coping mechanisms as if theyâre just children who donât understand consequences. i do not need to be told itâs bad for me. iâm not 6. and i should be able to discuss it in a way that doesnât drag up the âbut im only saying it out of concern :o(â crowd. as if i need to be told having an alcohol dependant is unhealthy.
disabled issues are so constantly sanitised that even on my own accounts that either heavily feature crippleposting or literally just have my friends on it, i feel uncomfortable talking about the âgrosserâ symptoms i suffer with !!
and the thing is! if that was *all* it caused then fine. thatâs my issue to deal with, something *i* need to get over. but itâs not. because the over sanitisation of issues affects how doctors talk to me. it affected what symptoms i was warned about. doctors only told me the more âacceptableâ issues id suffer with.
no one warned me that my teeth will start to decay. that iâll taste and smell vomit and sometimes blood. that bending down will make me puke sometimes with no warning. that excessive sweating might start and it might get so bad itâll stain white bedsheets. it might also change scents. youâll start sweating uncontrollably from your face even in the freezing cold. that sometimes your back will hurt so bad that you wonât be able to go to the toilet. and because of that youâll get pain in your bladder from strain because you physically couldnât pee all night. that sometimes even when you make it to the toilet, you canât bend enough to clean yourself up or get re-dressed.
sanitisation doesnât just affect the publicâs view of us, of our issues. it doesnât just affect how some of us see ourselves. it affects our medical care. i shouldnât have to find all these things out alone. i shouldâve been told how to deal with them. i need help, not someone who finds my issues âgrossâ
being an adult with symptoms that mimic drunk people and trying to have fun at a club with my friends is a specific hell.
getting eyed by the bouncers and bar staff when im staggering from a subluxed joint, or when i go skidding across the dancefloor because my hip popped out the socket and i lost my footing
throwing up in the toilets because sometimes that happens and my friend is trying to get me to stop because theyâll kick us out
having to sit on the floor by the pool table where my friends are playing because iâm going to start fading in and out of consciousness and the only other seats are stools iâll fall out of. some guy my friend invited starts taking my phone and telling me to get up because im gonna get them all kicked out.
setting up part of my medical ID on my phone to explain that iâm not drunk iâm just disabled and im terrified for the day they donât listen because i donât wanna fuck my friends night up
DECAYING
november 7th 2021
Iâm starting to forget what it was like to be healthy. Itâs something I never envisioned happening. Believing for so long that this illness was short term, the reality now looms over me like a monster I canât quite run from.
Thereâs something so horrid and cruel about the way iâve been forced to watch myself decay, iâve had a front row seat to my own deterioration for years now.
Sometimes I cant quite decide if the worst part of this condition is my own physical destruction or the mental toll it takes.
Iâll be honest. The nights where i feel how i used to are getting further and further apart.
There arenât many times as of late where iâm not gripped with the primal urge to just claw my own muscles out from under my skin.
I think at this point iâd do anything to get rid of my pain.
Iâd do anything to get rid of the shadow of myself that still taunts me, reminding me of what i used to be and what i am now.
Even as iâm writing this, on the bus on the way home from a job i shouldnât be doing, all i want to do is rip off my limbs and sob. My shoulder is dislocated and i can feel my kneecap slipping, but iâve still got 20 minutes left of this journey before i get off the bus and walk home.
Iâve taken to praying to a God i donât quite believe in at times, desperation does weird things to people i guess.
All my pain is so raw and full force at all times, and when iâm not in pain im completely numb, effectively running on complete autopilot.
At work I stand for hours with no breaks, racing back and forth between desks. I shouldnât be able to do it, but i do.
My legs grow numb after the first hour, my brain when i talk to customers is just replaying my training, a subconscious script that starts to protect my own brain from becoming overwhelmed.
Sometimes i feel like i take a backseat in my own body, but then again, i donât have a choice.
But that autopilot comes at a cost, the cost of my limbs when i finally get home.
Sometimes it stops before i even get on the bus, my legs grow heavy and i wonder how long i can keep going before i collapse on the linoleum.
Other times my body waits until iâm finally in bed, when iâm still for the first time in the day. Then it hits full force. The cost of existing and working in this body.
The pain is so raw and all consuming i can no longer even cry. It chokes me, in all honesty. Even minor movements become too painful to bear and im left to deal with it alone in the darkness of my room.
Although iâm not sure id rather have people see me in that state, i have a reputation to uphold. The reputation of being able bodied and perfectly capable, the role i play daily, like a tired actor on stage performing for the hundredth time.
Itâs tiring in itself, keeping up this facade.
I make myself palatable, i swallow down the pain, the truth of what i face.
I put on a mask to make myself more appealing. After all, the last thing i want to be is a burden.
But Iâm watching myself decay in real time.
I can only hope it eases soon, but my hope is also decaying away day by day.
The Cost Of A Manufactured âCrisisâ
october 18th 2022
It has been over a month since the Daily Mail published an article plagued with disinformation, fear mongering and hatred. It has been a month since I had to read an article that has since caused irreversible damage to my community. Damage that has gone unrecognised by the very people who platformed that mess.
So hereâs my question for the Daily Mail and Emma James herself: Are we addicted to being sad? Or are you just addicted to trying to turn our lives into inspiration porn?
They want to paint us all as liars, as âcompetitorsâ in a competition of their own creation.
You see us showing our true selves, exposing the hardships that we so often hide from the world. You see that and your mind jumps to faking, youâre so used to being able to write things off as just âteenage girls being teenage girlsâ that you refuse to see the bigger picture. You refuse to accept that we are simply trying to exist, to show our realities, to bring awareness to conditions that are so often swept under the rug.
You want to paint us all as people who are competing over who is sicker, weâre exaggerating and lying to win what exactly? What, aside from maybe some internet clout, would we gain from faking illnesses? Because I can tell you now, we lose a lot more than we could ever gain.
Do you want to know what happened when I got ill? I lost friends. I lost opportunities. My relationships were irreversibly damaged. Everything I once had came crashing down around me and doctors did nothing. But do you know what they did do? Those doctors dehumanised me, they blamed me for something out of my control, they refused to listen. They turned me against myself and manipulated my own mind, they tried to paint me as a hormonal, fat liar. That went on for years. I was 14. I was severely ill.
So Emma, do you actually know how hard it is to get treatment? To get a diagnosis? How hard it is to actually be admitted to hospital? How hard it is to get medical professionals to listen to us? Do you realise the damage youâre causing outside of the internet?
This has real world consequences.
We arenât âaddicted to being sadâ weâre just sick of fighting for basic treatment and respect, sick of fighting to be believed. Weâre SICK.
You talk about doctors being concerned about how people are going to convince themselves theyâre sick/sicker than they are and how diagnosisâs of ârareâ conditions are gonna rise? They shouldnât worry about that, because getting a diagnosis before this was hard enough.
Do you know whatâs changed?
Do know why that number may rise?
Awareness. People are going to see videos and realise their symptoms match. It can happen with anything.
Iâll play along, say maybe some people genuinely are âfakingâ but that doesnât take away from everyone who will see those videos and finally have some idea of what might be going on with their bodies and urge them to seek support.
Awareness of a condition can be the bridge between suffering, pain and lasting damage, and actually getting help. It can be the stepping stone to prevent deterioration, to prevent severe illness and even death.
And me personally? How did I start the process (fight) of getting diagnosed? I researched. I saw a medical article about someone with my condition and everything clicked.
That was before tiktok. I didnât see this on social media. I saw it on google. I spent weeks matching my symptoms up and researching until I was confident enough to approach doctors, people who had so quickly written me off on the past. Traumatised and gaslight me despite being the very people I was told would help me.
Because you see, people will always be influenced by what they see online, and sometimes that influence is from actual sources, medical sources. The news. Itâs not a tiktok problem. Itâs not the creators problem. And it never has been.
The spoonie community is made for people to share experiences, to talk to someone that understands, that believes you.
When friends, professionals and teachers turned their backs on me, the community listened.
The community actively works to make sure people donât lose hope, that people donât give up. The community is a beacon of positivity, but not in the âa happy mindset will fix everythingâ way, but a way that shows youâre not the only one fighting. That youâre not alone.
We share stories, positive and negative. We share tips and tricks to alleviate symptoms and make life easier. We share support through just the fact that we believe each other, because thatâs a rare thing to experience, to be believed.
Sure, some people may compete over whoâs sicker, but a few bad apples is never going ruin the whole bunch. You canât generalise an entire community based on a few people you disagree with. Especially not when itâs a community of people that have been beaten down so much.
Weâre all there through a shared experience of being emotionally battered by people, whether that be family or friends or doctors. Weâre all there to just seek support.
Weâre all there because weâre tired of our conditions and experiences being written off as âanxietyâ or âjust pubertyâ or whatever other phrase they use to write us off.
Reading this, you have to remember, you can become disabled at any moment. At any time your life can change and I hope, for your sake, Emma, and for our community, that it doesnât.
But you know what? Even if, god forbid, you become disabled, do you know what will happen? You will most likely be met with open arms.
Thatâs because the community is built on acceptance. Itâs built on understanding. Itâs built on love.
You act as if this online community is new, as if itâs this new fad thatâs come along due to internet fame that's so easily achievable nowadays. But the community has been speaking out about our struggles long before tiktok existed, you just didnât see it, you didnât listen. You turned a blind eye to our struggles.
But thatâs all so convenient isnât it? Now you can spin your little âtiktok creators are evil and making people do Xâ headline that gets recycled with a different disorder or activity every month.
If a tiktok means someone gets the courage to go seek out help, that should be encouraged! Maybe, like you say, they don't have that condition after all. Maybe if they're truly âfaking itâ, it results in them looking for a deeper cause, a reasoning for their want to be ill.
What you donât seem to understand, whether that be due to a lack of education or compassion, is that everyone deserves a right to be heard. Even if what they think they have is wrong. Everyone deserves a chance to an assessment, a chance to be believed and understood by the professionals whose entire job is to help.
You also seem to have suddenly decided that itâs bad to do brand deals? Demonising creators who do so, who often cant work? Because, what people who struggle to live day to day comfortably and often have low if not non-existent incomes independently need, is to be bashed for something plenty of able-bodied people do without complaint. Itâs a double standard. Itâs a bias. Its ableism at its finest.
Letâs go back to your main point, how you want to paint us all as people who are âcompetingâ over whoâs sickest.
Do you know why that is? Because you hate to see disabled people that you canât turn into inspiration porn. You hate seeing us actually be ill. You canât stomach the harsh realities, you're afraid.
Because you know it can happen to you.
Youâre scared so you want to make us palatable. We need to be quiet and docile and easy to watch. You want us to be inspirational. You canât stand the sight of people being ill when you canât turn them into a success story, when you cant monetise and market our illnesses as something we should just âignoreâ.
You want us to break ourselves down into little bite size pieces, you want us to bend and destroy ourselves to make you comfortable. You want us to hide because god forbid youâre exposed to disabled people that you canât twist into a sick fantasy of your saviour complex. The minute we canât be melded into inspiration porn for you to make yourself feel better we become unneeded. We lose your respect. We lose your support because there is nothing you can take from us, nothing to exploit us for.
You need us to be easy to swallow, easy to consume.
You donât like when the reality chokes you.
Youâre a coward.
There Is Solidarity In Suffering
december 4th 2023
There can be beauty and love in being disabled, there is solidarity and warmth in it.
It doesnât come in little a sterile pill box handed over by a pharmacy, itâs in the crumpled blister pack kept in the bag of a friend who knows you. Itâs sharing painkillers carried specifically for your friends who may need it. Itâs in the way we wordlessly pass tablets between us, a penniless trade, a pill for the knowledge youâre at ease.
Iâve never felt as much love and honest care as I do from the disabled people in my life. The people who may not be struggling with the same thing, but understand to a level that cannot be explained by anything other than our shared experiences. The knowledge of pain, whether that be mental or physical, connects us in ways that canât be compared to any connection with an able bodied person.
Sick4sick friendships are some of the most beautiful I have. I know at least one of us will always have medication to share, I keep painkillers and nausea tablets in my bag not just for myself, but incase one of them needs it too. My partner will always, without fail, offer up his cane if Iâm unable to bring mine out. Itâs an act that always makes me want to cry, itâs such a personal item, and the thought that he cares so much to be willing to share that is something so deeply special.
Sick4sick friendships in the way we lean on each other, reaching out instinctively on stairs to steady ourselves down them. Clinging together through dizzy spells. A guiding hand on my back when I canât see or walk too good. Itâs wordless, itâs pure, itâs such a tender love.
I see it with my father, our shared joint supports, hand me down knee straps passed on like heirlooms, such simple items given with such love, even if it is unspoken. Itâs driving half way down the street to pick me up when he heard me crying to my mother on the phone when I was flaring up, despite the fact he hates driving the car such short distances. He greeted me on the side of the road, opening the door and nodding, âmines been bad too latelyâ was all that he needed to say, he understood. For those brief moments as we drove home I felt we bonded more than we had in years. I hadnât even asked him to come collect me, I didnât expect him to, but he had, without any hesitation. He simply heard me cry over something and he understood.
I think about that a lot.
I think a lot about moments with strangers. Somehow falling into conversations with customers at work, sharing advice with people I will never meet again. Smiles and understanding nods and somehow genuine care.
The joy of seeing someone with a matching cane is unparalleled, the grin across the street when we notice. There is something so lovely and so special about having that brief moment, a few seconds where we are connected in a way not many people would understand.
There is solidarity in the pain and it can be so beautiful.
iâm thinking about sick4sick friendships iâm thinking about keeping spare meds in my bag to share with my buddies. my partner offering me their cane when i canât smuggle my own out the house.
im thinking about sick4sick with strangers. sharing advice. the grin when you have the same canes. complimenting cool mobility aids.
iâm thinking about hand me down knee braces and joint straps my dad gives to me. passing them on like heirlooms.
im thinking about the solidarity in pain and how beautiful it can be
edit: hello everyone enjoying this post i made a longer version on my blog if u wanna check it out :o)
One thing I don't think the Spoon metaphor has helped able-bodied people understand is that you can overdraw.
Generally, for most conditions, running out of spoons doesn't mean you collapse, doesn't produce an effect they can actually see. What it means is that you run on life support, quite possibly unsafely, until you get to a safe place and can stop. But you'll owe those spoons back, with interest. You'll have hurt yourself to do it.
Sometimes I hang out with a friend and they'll be like, wow, I'm really glad you had a good day. And I have to decide whether to make them feel bad by explaining that in fact they did not catch me on a good day, and tomorrow will probably be bad. I just made choices.
"Hey, y'know that anime trope where a spellcaster runs out of mana, but like his friends and family are counting on him to win or keep the shield up or whatever, so he starts to draw from his own life force? And then the battle is won and everyone's all "YAAAAAYYYY" but he just fucking... collapses and has to rest for a few days because he literally vampired himself to win? It's kinda like that."
i donât know if anyone has seen that absolute piece of shit article written by Emma James for the daily mail but hereâs my thoughts as someone who is directly affected and suffering because of ideas like hers
i canât provide alt text at this time but hereâs a link to my thread on twitter
also ! no one truly wants to be disabled and what she doesnât realise is outside of just some attention there is nothing truly gained and more often than not that attention will be negative and youâll lose friends and family and support as a consequence of becoming sick.
it wont let me add a link but thereâs a petition in @the_chronic_notebook âs instagram bio to have the article removed.
also something that i was made aware of after posting that thread is that one of the people âquotedâ was never interviewed by the author and those quotes werenât said by her and are essentially fabricated. sheâs trying to turn members of our own community against us
on tuesday a real actual doctor said "you seem to be very invested in finding the underlying cause of your hip pain" to me, as though that investment concerned him?? like yeah doc i do want to know what's causing the problem, because usually that is the part that comes before solving the problem!
A tweet by Nia - The Chronic Notebook (@chronicnotebook) "Somewhere there is a venn diagram of people saying 'you're just using chronic illness to avoid work' and people saying 'if you're working you can't be that sick'. That venn diagram is a circle."
I love you disabled people whoâs disabilities have been demonised by the media. I love you disabled people whoâs disabilities have been romanticised by the media. I love you disabled people with invisible disabilities. I love you disabled people who are visibly disabled. I love you disabled people who have been told they âarenât disabled enoughâ. I love you disabled people whoâs disabilities arenât given any representation in media. I love you disabled people who have been disabled since birth. I love you disabled people who became disabled at some point in life. I love you disabled people who didnât realise they were disabled until recently. I love you disabled people who fight for our rights. I love you disabled people who are proud of their disabilities. I love you disabled people who are angry. I love you disabled people who are full of joy.
you all deserve the whole world. fuck anyone who disagrees
Ableds be like, if I eat this diet/do this exercise/wear or donât wear these clothes/live this lifestyle Iâll never become disabled!
Buddy have I got some harsh news for youâŚ
The whole âyou can escape disability with the right choicesâ form magical thinking is so deeply rooted in ableism. It always reminds me of James Fixx who started the jogging for health craze, then dropped dead of a heart attack while out running age 52.
For those of you not old enough to remember the tortuous explanations people went through to make his early death not about the running and make the running still be a guarantee that youâll live to be 100 in perfect health - it was quite the circus.
Anyway disability is not a punishment for living a âbadâ lifestyle and you canât wish, hope, or plan your way out of it happening to you. Disability is a natural part of life and if you live long enough you will inevitably become disabled at some point.
Wow, you really cannot tell one abled they canât good-behavior their way out of becoming disabled without three more jumping in to âexplainâ what the first one âreally meantâ, can you?
What you really meant was âI can good behavior my way out of disability (and therefore disability is a punishment for bad behavior)â. Thatâs not how it works. Thatâs not how any of this works. Also thatâs super fucking ableist and if youâre going to defend your ableism instead of ooh, idk, actually learning something Iâm going to need you to fuck right off.
disabled people donât owe you explanations
Our existence isnât an invitation or investigation. This isnât 20 questions. This is a Walmart. Let me buy my groceries.
please teach kids that its not normal to be in pain all of the time, we also need to start taking kids seriously when they talk about pain or difficulty physically, kids and teens can absolutely have chronic pain, medical conditions and disability that you cannot see. a kid isnt going to lie to you about being in pain 24/7 repeatedly.