When people ask, “How can I tell if someone is disabled or just lazy?” I think about my parents.
My parents have known me my whole life. When they’re not actively contemptuous of me, they do seem to be somewhat aware of my general personality and character. In one of his nicer moments, my dad has called me “sweet-natured.” They can tell that when I make them a surprise breakfast or lunch that I enjoy being helpful and doing nice things for people.
They know from watching me grow up that I have always had trouble keeping my room clean, getting homework done, and keeping my desk tidy at school.
The longest I can push myself past my limits is about nine months. Then I collapse and end up less functional than I was before I pushed myself. This has been a pattern throughout my middle and high school years. I would go to public school for about a year, and then collapse and have to do the rest of my education at home. My work history follows this pattern, too.
I once sat in a therapy session with my dad to talk about the constant struggle we were having at home because he wanted me to help out more and do better in school. When he asked me why I didn’t do things, I broke down in tears, because I couldn’t explain it. “I just CAN’T. I want to, and I CAN’T.” Nobody listened.
My mom asked me why I don’t do things, and I said, “I just can’t. I sit there for hours trying to convince myself to do things, and I can’t. Move.”
And she said, “Don’t think about it, just do it,” completely missing the point.
When I got older I found words for the things I was dealing with. I got professionally diagnosed, and I’d look up information about my diagnosis and e-mail articles to my parents explaining what my disability is and why I can’t do things.
My parents have firsthand information about my character (helpful, likes doing things for others) and my history with disability (can’t consistently keep things clean, can’t manage a daily schedule). I’ve talked to them extensively about my diagnosis and given them information about it. They have known me my whole life, and I’ve always been this way. And they still, STILL choose to believe I’m just a bad person who doesn’t try and doesn’t care.
My disability isn’t invisible, people refuse to look at it.
People like problems they can yell at. They like having a target for their frustration. They don’t want to admit disability is real, because they want problems that they can either solve, or blame someone else for. And the disabled person themself is their scapegoat, someone who can’t ever opt out of their role because the disability is never going to go away.
“Slavin’s circular panoramic digital technique is a way of seeing only made possible through digital methods and is an orientation he masterfully devised after much experimentation. The time required to capture the images and then create the photographs, which can consist of hundreds of photos “stitched” together to create a single 360-degree image.” (Amy Frearson, Dezeen.com. 2 July 2012)
Here’s some more of his work:
I thought it was cool as is, but doubly so now with the right info
I mean, Adora loves “horsies” so Catra thought she’d try out the ponytail… ( but, alas, her hair is as hard to tame as my undying love for this episode. )
Follow my Instagram : @ littlewheatart – (ugh, also click for better quality)
‘I Take Issue’ project- wrote my first graphic novelette! Not something I’d normally say, but I’m super proud of this.
(please excuse the weird layout, it’s formatted for printing rather than internet)
I had to reblog this. Because it’s not only beautifully painted, its idea is something that needs to be shared, again and again, so that more people will take their bloody buckets off.
Apsa's Blog 