I do think that it’s pretty interesting how this coronavirus pandemic has showcased how manufactured inaccessibility is. 

When I was too sick to attend high school, I was told that any distance learning accommodations were impossible and I was forced to drop out. Now, my same high school has switched to online courses. 

When I asked my college’s disability office if they could offer any accommodations for days I was unable to make it to class due to my illness, I was told that it was not possible, and that if I missed more than the allotted amount of days I would be automatically failed. Now, my college is offering numerous online accommodations any any illness related absences are fully excused. 

When I spoke with my college about the physical problems that the increased burden of work study was causing me, they didn’t care, and said I could either work 20 hours a week or not get the money. Now, they’re funding work study for students who are either ill or who are not physically be on campus.

It almost seems like full accessibility isn’t actually impossible, and institutions just don’t want to make the effort to include disabled individuals. 

Somehow, when abled people need accommodations, they’re readily available. 

You know something bizarre that kind of hit me all at once today? How being chronically ill and searching for a diagnosis strips you of your humanity.

At least half of my life memories include laying in machines for hours, being poked and prodded and touched in places that are usually considered to be violating, having Drs put their fingers and tubes up my asshole and probed my vagina, put tubes down my throat, how I’ve lay unconscious on a table with a whole team of people surrounding me, they’ve cut me open and seen my insides, there have been camera’s inside of me, so many random men and women in the medical field have seen me naked- people that I don’t even know, some people that I’VE NEVER EVEN MET because I was unconsious during the process. Through all of the consious tests and procedures I just remember laying and staring at the ceiling- counting the tiles. “It’ll be done soon- just count the tiles and don’t you dare cry. You’re supposed to be the strong one. You’re used to pain, right? You’re a warrior. You are a warrior” But the truth is, no matter how much I tell myself that- I don’t feel like a warrior. I feel more like a lab rat.

And I’m not trying to advocate against the uncomfortably invasive processes of getting a diagnosis. I know the tests are important and theres not much that can be done to make you feel more comfortable. But can we just take a moment to acknowledge that a lot of us have been made to feel less then human just in trying to get a diagnosis. Thats not even taking into account the people that actively try to make us feel like we’re not worth anything when we can’t live up to societies ridiculous standards. Being sick in itself strips us of who we are.

I’m still in that process, and some of you are too. So I just want to remind you that your body is still yours. You are human and you are strong. You are a warrior, but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to feel. That doesn’t mean that you have to keep it in or hide the fact that you are in pain and you feel like you’ve been put on display in the most negative way. It’s ok to be upset. Its ok to talk about. Its ok to cry. It’s also ok to be positive if that is the kind of approach you like to take- it doesn’t make your pain any less valid if you remain an optomist. It doesn’t mean you haven’t struggled. It doesn’t mean you’re faking it if you prefer to use humor as a coping mechanism. However you need to cope (as long as it is safe) you do it. Because you are worth so much more than you have been made to feel like. You are important. Your life is important and you are loved. I’m here to acknowledge your struggle in the way I wish people would acknowledge mine. I’m here to say I hear you. I believe you. And I’m proud of you for fighting for your health and diagnosis. And if no one around you is saying it, I will. You are a warrior. And so am I.

“There is nothing more frustrating than knowing you are being seen as lesser than you are. I will not sit here and be talked down to as if I am a speck of dust to your star.”

— ‘Of Dust and Stars,’ - Megan’s Poetry #245

i did something bad // new year’s day              ↳ reputation parallels

Poor ‘Ponine

Joining that type1 club.

I have appointments to get my CGM and discuss pump options. Anyone out there with suggestions?!

How to apologise: “I am sorry I hurt you. Your feelings are 100 percent valid, and I see that what I did was wrong and hurtful.” Nothing more. Don’t ask for forgiveness. Don’t make any excuses. Just put your whole heart into it, truly let them see you bleed, and then, leave it be.

Nikita Gill, How To Apologise (via meanwhilepoetry)