icanscribblestuff:

fullyarticulatedgoldskeleton:

lachryphage:

fullyarticulatedgoldskeleton:

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.

Why are parents always the least sympathetic? Why are they the last ones to show compassion to their children?

I think it ties into the idea most people have that children are an investment, and if you spend money on them and take care of them and they grow up to be “useless” they’re somehow cheating their parents of their rightful gains.

I agree with the point above about parents often seeing children as an investment, but I find there’s another reason that’s far more common. You’re seen as an extension of your parents parenting skills. Anything negative you do reflects badly on them. They see it as a reflection of their family, so when you fail THEY fail. If you have mental health issues society as a whole will, in part, blame your parents for not “raising you correctly”.
You see it with parents of younger children when they display completely normal (but inconvenient) developmental behaviour. It’s bad parenting. You see it with mothers of disabled newborns, obviously you did something wrong during delivery, or during pregnancy, or maybe your genes are wrong, why would you have children if you knew there was a chance XYZ could of happened?
You DEFINITELY see it with parents of teenagers, and the same blame gets passed on to parents of young adults.

It doesn’t make it right, it’s an outdated belief that stems from a generation who think boys shouldn’t cry, that children should be seen and not heard, that cuddling your children makes them weak. That we can beat away a disability.
The belief that children are something to be tamed and moulded into the perfect adult template.