Why in the ever growing fuck do I decide to write obscure title ideas into my journal and expect to pull something out of my ass. Why do you do this Tyler, WHY?
I suppose when I first put this down as an idea it was to talk about the cross over of having both mental health issues and being physically broken. I do say this knowing I’ve actually spent time at home and knowing that whilst I can move a limited distance in my one bedroom flat, going outside is an entirely different thing. I am pretty privileged in the fact that whilst walking anything other than 20 steps is either complete agony or there is a 80% chance something would dislocate I could evacuate on my own legs in case of an emergency. This also doesn’t factor in the chronic fatigue that I suffer though and that’s an entire different ball game altogether or the spinal injury that I have, or even this epilepsy… Fuck me I actually am broken. But there are people in far worse situations than I am in, and I need to be thankful for the small mercy’s I have been blessed with.
However life entirely intersectional and my “good” days do not factor in the days where I am experiencing severe mental health issues. I’ve spoken before about living with psychosis and depression but factor in living with it and being trapped in my own body ALL OVER AGAIN and it just manifests into a pit of shit that I can barely get out of.
Recently I have suffered body dysphoria really really badly, which has been physically kicking my ass. It’s not even about my chest (nearly a year post op now) or even so much my genitals as much but just being in this fucking broken shell at times just feels fucking disheartening. I feel constantly that people will just not find me attractive enough because I’m trans but being wheelchair bound AND trans really limits your options in not only the dating pool but your friendship circles as well. It’s weird, it doesn’t feel a part of me and I don’t know if that is because I’m having dysphoria because I’m trans or just fucking depressed because in order to see people and to function, I NEED to be in my chair.
It is a constant emotional roller coaster because people are much worse off than I am in many places. They are trapped at home unable to get about or unable to transition and I have the privilege to do both but sometimes it really does just get too much at times. It is physically draining to be human. It’s a full time job that I have had to juggle and I don’t have the physical capacity to deal with everything all at once like I used to.
The worst part is that people pity me. They pity me for being trans. They pity me for being in my chair, and it is just bullshit. I don’t need pity. What I need, what I really need are three simple things
- Partners that fucking understand me
- Friends that act normal towards me
- Being able to access spaces and not panic because they are not wheelchair accessible
You would think that these are simple fucking requests but in fact as the time has progressed, I have realised that no, actually they are not. These are just tiny things and honestly it gets to me that every day is a fucking joke. This is the type of shit that makes me depressed and unwell. And it is the same for everyone else in this situation.
I’m not even going to start mentioning the patronisation or the fact that we are seen less equally than others because that is another goddamn blog post and will last longer than the state of my patience with society.
If you do have friends, family, loved ones who are in this situation. Please check up on them from time to time. Being disabled actually is a really lonely experience. It is like watching the whole world go by but you are frozen and unable to do a thing. Please respect disabled folk and as my final thing, DO NOT TUT AT THEM BECAUSE ONE DAY YOU MAY END UP LIKE THIS TOO.