Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".
Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"
And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".
Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.
At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.
So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!
Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!
Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!
Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.
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Danny, due to his biology of being half dead, can eat very questionable things and not die.
He decides to start a youtube channel with this.
He buys obvious shitty supplements online, clear and obvious scams, and takes them as directed for a month.
Then he reports what they did to him, and sends the samples to get tested. He's gotten more than a few scammers arrested by providing solid evidence that they used hazardous materials to make their product.
He gets away with this by claiming to have the power of abnormal metabolism, or an "iron stomach", so toxins aren't as likely to hurt him.
One of his viewers sends him an unmarked bottle of pills, saying that if he doesn't take the entire bottle on a livestream, they'll blow up a city.
Danny does his livestream, and goes out of his way to use the entire bottle of pills in extravagant recipes. By the end of it he's created a five course meal, all with the pills cooked/melted in, and it's become a mukbang.
The villain who sent it is watching the livestream pissed off, because they didn't specify how to take the pills, so this technically counts. The heroes they have trapped are losing their minds with concern.
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just a little something for the darling @yournowheregirl to wake up to! it sounds kinda dumb and insignificant, but i always appreciate your tags in the fun tag games that come across your dash and for always being one of the first that ask something from those ‘ask me’ posts i reblog! it makes me feel appreciated and i am super grateful every time 🥰🫶🥹
There was meant to be two beds.
Steve specifically got a double king room for the goblins, and another room with two queens for him and Eddie.
So of course as soon as they got into Milwaukee the night before the D&D themed nerd fest, the (actually very nice) woman at the front desk says: “We had to swap around the rooms, but the two will still sleep all you boys, don’t worry!”
Whatever. That’s fine, right? They’ll all have a spot to sleep the next two nights they’re here for the kids’ (and Eddie’s) dragon game convention.
He gets back to their rented minivan and passes the key cards to Eddie in the passenger seat.
The van was just the first point of contention between him and the kids’ beloved Dragon Meister, followed closely by…everything else.
The first thing Eddie said when Steve showed up in the rented van was “King Steve is coming along on our journey?”, to which Steve could only respond with “This ‘super cool’ guy you assholes have been going on about this whole time is Eddie “The Freak” Munson? Really?”
Following closely behind are: the tapes and tapes of loud garbled ‘music’ Eddie insists on playing, his absolutely tragic way of unwrapping Steve’s burgers for him when they stop for lunch, the wariness Steve has in the first place about this being the guy Dustin wouldn’t stop talking so highly about…this nerdy, obnoxious, third-time senior…great.
“204 is the Hellions’ room, 207 is us.”
Eddie bends an arm backwards into the feral beast enclosure the second two rows have become over the last six hours and Steve’s surprised he still has his hand when it returns to the front.
Steve gets the van parked in the hotel’s garage, and they head up to their rooms.
“Alright, assholes,” he says to the somehow still rambunctious masses, “This is you guys, Make sure you’re up by eight so we—“
“Yeah Steve, we got it,” Dustin scoffs, “As if we’d risk being late to this.”
Steve rolls his eyes with a “Fine, goodnight.” and shuffles the few steps across the hall to his and Eddie’s door, leaving the troops to file into theirs.
The only thought in his head is of laying down and getting the fuck to sleep. It wasn’t even that late but—
“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me.”
So that’s what brings them here. To their one barely queen sized bed.
“I guess I’m on the floor then, huh?”
“I’m not about to let you sleep on the floor.”
“Oh, the King has chivalry does he?” Eddie rolls his eyes and throws his duffle onto the armchair in the corner.
“As much as you, asshole; I just want you to have the energy to corral the gremlins tomorrow.” Steve scrubs a hand down his face. “Look, we’ll just deal with it tonight and I’ll get another room tomorrow.” he lies. As if he’s got the cash for that.
Eddie looks him over, and seems to come to whatever conclusion he needs to because he says “Fine, but you better not be a blanket hog.”
Eddie’s the worst blanket hog Steve’s ever had the displeasure of knowing.
He thought Robin was bad, but this is something else.
Eddie’s fully a burrito within an hour of laying down. After a hearty, but silent, game of tug of war over the worn duvet.
Steve falls asleep angry and cold, and wakes up on a cloud.
He’s so warm and so entangled in the comforter, he can’t help but snuggle deeper into the pillow he’s clutched onto.
The pillow hums back at him and scoots itself under his chin with a sigh.
Steve squeezes tighter onto the pillow momentarily, but his curiosity of why his pillow’s making noise gets the better of him.
He cracks his eyes open, looking down at the thing in his arms.
It shifts as well, and Eddie Munson blinks up at him with those (holy shit…beautiful, deep, dark) doe eyes of his.
“Hi.” Steve breathes.
Eddie’s eyes flutter shut, and shuffles himself back into Steve’s neck.
Steve chooses to blame the still sleepy bit of him for curving himself back around Eddie.
“How’d you sleep?” Steve whispers into the now-bared hairline under the other man’s bangs.
“Fucking amazing…” Eddie mumbles, snaking an arm over Steve’s waist and settling a hand in the middle of his back. “How ‘bout you, Stevie?”
“Stevie, huh?” Steve chuckles.
It’s only then that Eddie seems to come to his senses, his head shooting up before he scrambles away, falling straight onto his back between the opposite side of the bed and the wall with an “Oof!” and a “Fuck!”
“Oh shit!” Steve shuffles off the bed and helps Eddie back up, ”You alright, Eds?”
“Yeah..yeah, I’m fine..” Steve gets Eddie back on his own two feet and (reluctantly) lets him go once he’s stable.
‘Reluctantly? Why reluctantly? What the hell??’
“Sorry I was all over you, not the greatest thing to wake up to, huh?” Eddie says, huffing a sardonic laugh under his breath.
Steve hums nonchalantly, “It wasn’t all bad, I slept pretty fucking amazing too.”
Eddie hums an acknowledgment, then: “I wouldn’t—“ Eddie starts at the same time Steve says “I should—“
“You go ahead,”
Eddie’s hands come up between them, spinning the rings on his fingers nervously. “I was going to say that…I.. Iwouldn’tmindifyoustayedtonight..too.”
Steve blinks. “Good thing I was going to say that I really should save my money.”
Eddie’s smile is slightly nervous, but there’s a hopeful tinge to it that Steve can only assume means what he thinks it does (hopes it does).
“Leaves me with more to spend on the Gremlins, right?” he shrugs.
Eddie beams. “Glad to know we’re on the same page, Harrington.”
also, if you haven’t heard it recently: Alice, YOU’RE DOING AMAZING SWEETIE 🤩
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