Curoiusity kills your confidence 

It’s very odd thing to be disabled, I had to learn at an early age to deal with people staring at me. when I was growing up, I’d sometimes ask my Mum why people were looking at me, because you’re beautiful, She’d say, I knew that wasn’t the case. I knew deep down people looked because I’m different, many people with hidden disabilities tell of how misunderstood they are,  I often hear of people’s who disability is not as noticeable as mine telling of how difficult it is to be understood by society, and I’m not for. One moment going to sit hear and tell you how much harder my life is to that of someone with a hidden barrier, because the reality is, if you are different these seems to be short hand to say we are public property.

Once your different and in my case, disabled we wave the right it seems to privacy, wether it be because the nessecity of personal care or an ill thought through question, driven by curiosity. I will awnser almost any question – peticularly if it’s a friend asking a guenuine question. I don’t mind and I often say I’m an open book and I’ve heard every stupid question in the book. 

The majority of the stupidest things I’ve ever been asked are meant with no malaice. It is often the fact that people feel nervous about duscussing my disability with me and people are embarrassed to be asking such questions.  In these circumstances I often find my self using humour to form a human connection with someone, by doing this it means we can both get past the elephant in the room. 

You can tell the difference between someone who is curious, and someone who is frankly a cunt. 

I have never really experienced major bouts of Disablism, thankfully I’ve never been phsically abused because of my condition (touch wood..) but I have had experiences of verbal abuse from complete strangers. People who think nothing of telling me God has forgiven my sins, and that despite everything, he had forgiven me, and he is waiting for me.

Or those who will openly tell me I should have been killed at birth because I’m useless. The most reason on that angered me to the point of tears, was a man, a very fit man infact who at first seemed nice, suddenly turned when he asked me exactly how I became disabled, when I said I was born like it, he, with out missing a beat, asked if I had sued, when I tried to move on, without responding to his very prying question he pushed for a awnser, I eventually said no… And he told me I was dumb bitch who deserved every hardship I face. Nice guy.

Then there’s the people who think there doing me a favour, coming invading my personal space cuddling me, let me tell you, it’s never the handsome fellas that do that, usually I get lumbered with smelly alcholic tramps trying to smooch me.. These overfamiliar types will also think nothing of push my chair without telling me who the hell they are, or where they’re taking me, often pulling a wheelie and shouting something moronic like, get out of that cair and dance with me.

These are of course, not very serious hate crimes and all barr one, of the experiences I’ve had have has ever made me feel like I need police. The one occasion it did, and the police got involved nothing major happened a half an hour chat to tell him not to do it again, and that was it. If I’d have been of a different race though, I know it would have been a different story.

Some disabled people aren’t as vocal about thier experiences as me, and too be honest, it’s never a pleasant experience to talk about the horrible end of my condition, talking about the experiences of predujeces I’ve endured gives the people who are responsible undesevered time in my memory. Talking about them exposes a weakness in me, the fact that secretly each one of the ill thought through comments chips away at my self confidence. I hide it well because I don’t show weakness outside of my circle of friends and family. 

Being disabled waves the right anonymity. Wether it be people wanting to call you an inspiration, or someone wanting to tell you that even though they don’t know you, they hate you with a passion, someone will tell you, because they believe it’s there right.

Like an unwilling celebrity 

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