#physical illness
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relapse is not a moral failure. substance use and addiction are not a moral failure. mental illness is not a moral failure. disability is not a moral failure. you have a health condition. you are struggling. recovery is not mean to be perfect, and if you're not in recovery, surviving is good too. i'm glad you're here, and i hope life treats you better soon. please know this is not your fault. you do not need to feel guilty over your own health.
#messages to myself#<- still ok to rb#softspoonie#addiction#addiction recovery#mental health#mental health positivity#morality#ableism#sanism#mentally ill#mental illness#physical illness#physical health#disability positivity#mental health recovery#mental illness recovery#recovery#positivity#substance use#substance misuse#substance abuse#substance use disorder
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Like this post if you currently have or do deal with brain fog
#guess what inspired this post#brain fog#chronic illness#chronic pain#actually disabled#mental illness#physical illness#physical disability#likes
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Surviving under late stage capitalism is hard, especially when you're out of spoons and you're lucky if you have a plastic knife. We're here to help.
The Sad Bastard Cookbook: Food You Can Make So You Don't Die is a community-built, vegetarian/vegan guide to getting food in your facehole when you're suffering from depression. Or other mental illnesses or physical illnesses or *waves hand generally at the state of the world* anything else.
We've made it free on our website because life sucks enough without having to give Jeff Bezos money, but we also do have a paperback copy available for sale over there too, since we also need to eat.
https://nightbeatseu.ca/the-sad-bastard-cookbook/
#depression#coping mechanism#coping#cooking#eating#food#cookbook#mental illness#physical illness#disability#spoonie#adhd
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I really need people to stop treating physical activity as an essential part of any treatment. In my case and in that of many people, physical activity only hurts us and takes away our life quality little by little. Just leave people who can't and shouldn't do physical activity alone.
#chronically ill#disability#disabled#chronic fatigue#cripple life#cripple punk#ehlers danlos syndrome#chronic pain#physical illness#physically disabled#physical disability#cripple problems#chronic illness#cfs/me#myalgic encephalomyelitis#postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome#dysautonomia
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cripplepunk is visually centered around use of mobility aids and accessibility, the word cripple being reclaimed from those who used it as a word against us physically disabled people and our bodies.
i see no way anyone could think cripplepunk let alone the word cripple could ever include able bodied individuals, just because it doesnt talk about mentally disabled people and focuses on the physically disabled, doesnt mean youre being swept under the rug and erased.
just because a space doesnt include you doesnt mean you should butt in and force it to. make your own damn space instead. youre not being invalidated or treated as invisible because some "exclusive club" exists and youre not on the invite list.
cripplepunk doesnt offer you anything if youre physically abled. thats not a threat, not an insult, its a fucking statement. a fact.
cripplepunk is made by and for PHYSICALLY disabled folks and always has. those who have mental disabilities ON TOP OF being physically disabled are welcomed thats a given, but if you arent physically disabled this space literally has nothing for you, nothing you can relate to, the word cripple isnt even for you. thats not some made up rule to shoo away people we dont like thats just a fucking fact on how it is.
"the brain is an organ so i AM physically disabled" do you need a mobility aid because of your mental disability? no, do you get sick and dizzy whenever you stand up because of our disabled brain? no. do you need additional help in school because your mental disability hinders your neurological function not your ability to function PHYSICALLY? yes? then stop being a selfish idiot and stop trying to get into cripplepunk as its not a space thats for you.
being mentally disabled is entirely different from being physically disabled, both are equally valid and deserve accommodations and support but when a space is made for one and not the other, only having the other does not warrant you to push into that space.
it should not have to be said so many times let alone at all
cripplepunk is a space for physically disabled bodies.
[ID: banner reading "This blog is protected by De Rolo family and co." in all caps. It has an orange cloud background. On the left is the De Rolo coat of arms and on the right is the symbol of Vox Machina]
#cass rants#skye posts#cripplepunk blog#cpunk blog#cripple punk#cpunk#cripplepunk#physically disabled#cripple punk blog#physical disability#physical illness#disability blogging#actually disabled#disabled#crip punk
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shoutout to the people that like learning, who love learning, who want to learn and understand and create things on their own terms, but can’t go to college/university. not for lack of money or access (although those are obviously valid and understandable), but because their disabilities prevent them from doing it. who don’t have enough spoons to take a university course and complete the amount of mental and physical work it entails. who are too anxious to leave home and don’t have the resources to combat that anxiety. who get burned out quickly and easily and can’t handle the amount of effort university takes. it’s not your fault and does not determine your worth - you are allowed to do what makes you comfortable. for those that mourn the loss of their college experience, i understand and your feelings are valid. whatever the reason may be, i see you.
#emo moss talks#university#college#college life#student life#uni life#disability#disabled#mental illness#physical illness#chronic illness#chronic pain#spoonie
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The scariest thing about being chronically ill and waiting to figure out wtf is wrong with you is dealing with scary symptoms you don’t know is just a symptom or something else that’s really serious. The anxiety from that itself is debilitating. My body feel like a torture device that I will never escape.
#chronic disability#chronic migraine#chronic inflammation#chronic illness#chronic pain#im scared#invisible disability#disabilties#disabled#dissociative identity disorder#did system#physical illness#disabled creator#disabled artist
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"this user is a spoonie" userbox made by me!!
feel free to use but keep my username visible ty!!! :3
#userboxes#this user#this user is#userbox#this user likes#spoonie#spoon theory#chronically ill#chronic illness#disabilties#physically disabled#mentally disabled#disabled#disability#physical illness#chronic pain#chronic fatigue
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I feel guilty because to them it's "only" chronic pain & fatigue.
It's not life threatening, even though it can get there.
It's not really treatable, just sit-withable.
It's not something like cancer, that can be cut or irradiated out of you.
It's not like I have to do anything other than sleep & try to cope with the pain levels.
I feel guilty because my illness isn't seen as valid as others.
I feel guilty because funding is so minimal and research so sparse, i am only able to lay in bed.
I feel guilty because my illness isn't seen as worth caring about and by extension, me.
I feel guilty about their positive outlook when I used to have that too, but they're getting treatment unlike me.
I feel guilty for having bad and worse-than-bad days, when I used to fully function like my friends and family.
I feel guilty because nobody gives a damn about M.E
#does this make sense
#chronic life#chronic pain#chronically ill#chronic illness#chronic fatigue#fibromyalgia#myalgic encephalomyelitis#chronic migraine#invisible disability#sorry for being depressing#no spoons#chronic pain syndrome#physical illness#life#m.e#me cfs#me/cfs#fibro#out of spoons#spoonie problems#spoonie life#disabled#disability#i feel so guilty#spoonie#chronic fatigue syndrome#just a thought#does this make any fucking sense
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Delirious Villain x Hero Caretaker, part 3:
Read part one Here
Read part two here
TW(for all parts): panic attacks, sick villain, delirious villain, sick Whump, villain hates being sick, fear of being sick, past whump, older brother whumper, PTSD, family Whump, sibling Whump, forced to vomit, graphic depictions of fever and illness and hallucinations, panicked whumpee, hero caretaker, villain doesn’t want help, graphic depictions of throwing up, sweat, heavy manipulation
I know it took me a million years to upload this part, but I finally understand the writers WIP jokes now better, so, ahaaaah… eheh… ahem, anyways.
*~*~*~*~*
They wiped their eyes on their sleeve, eyebrows knitting together as they settled down again, lying on Villain’s shoulder, tucked up next to them cozy.
“Villain?”
“Yeah Hero?”
“The… your brother beating you… it doesn’t explain why you hate being sick,” Hero said. Villain laughed a little and Hero felt the vibrations on their cheek.
“Right, yeah. After a while, when we were older… I think I was thirteen, he was sixteen. We all got a takeaway from the local Chinese place. We were eating it at the dinner table, and it was all fine and good. Then after Brother told me to come with him. I remember I didn’t want to at first, but my mum insisted I do, so I did.”
“He walked up the stairs to the bathroom and when I got in he locked the door.”
“Did you enjoy your food?” Brother asked, arms folded across his chest, leaning against the door. The years had only made him taller, more handsome and broad. High school had turned him into an idol around town and everyone knew his name.
“Yeah, I did,” said Villain. “It was nice. Did you enjoy yours?”
“Yeah, I did,” said Brother, black eyes locked on Villain’s. His mouth twisted up into a pondering pout. “But I mean, I’m allowed enjoy unhealthy food because I work out a lot. You don’t.”
“I do,” Villain protested. “I work out everyday after school, and I’ve been eating well, the diet you gave me I’ve been doing it all to the letter, Brother, I swear.”
“Okay, so if I check your school bag downstairs I won’t find chocolate bar wrappers will I?”
Villain froze at the question. Brother pushed off the door, looming over Villain, backing them up until Villain’s legs hit the side of the bath and they sat on the edge of it, shrinking down small, but Brother kept crowding them.
“That’s what I thought. It doesn’t matter how much you work out or what diet you follow if you’re still going to eat junk food. You are what you eat, Villain. People who eat takeaway and junk food get fat. Do you want to be fat?”
“No, no, I don’t Brother. I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I pro—“
Brother’s hand shot out, wrapping around Villain’s throat and hurtling them back against the wall of the bath, their legs flying up as they fell.
“I am so sick of you and your fucking promises, Villain. They mean nothing. You know why? Because you are nothing. Yet you keep trying to worm your way out of the consequences. My patience is running thin.”
Brother squeezed Villain’s throat harder and Villain gasped and flailed, trying to escape to get air to breathe. Brother was stronger than them though, and held them there a moment longer before letting up and walking to the bathroom sink with a long, drawn out sigh.
“I’m sorry,” Villain gasped, hand’s going to their throat. “I’m sorry, Brother.”
“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Brother said, gripping the sides of the sink and staring into the mirror. “I have tried with you, Villain. I have tried so hard to make you better. To make you perfect, likeable, loveable, anything more than this pathetic thing you are, but you make it so hard! Why can’t you just be better? Fucking god fucking damn it!”
Brother turned to face Villain in the bath, walked over to them and grabbed them by the collar of the shirt yanking them out. The motion was too quick for Villain to register, they couldn’t get their legs under them in time. Villain’s legs folded against the edge of the bath as Brother dragged them out, their knees hitting the bathroom floor with a heavy thud.
“Even your body knows where it belongs,” Brother hissed. “So why don’t you?!”
Brother dragged them to the toilet and flipped up the seat, dragging a struggling Villain to it. “No! Get off me! Mum! Dad! AGH—“
Brother laced his fingers through Villain’s hair and slammed his head against the toilet bowl. Villain bit his tongue with the impact, the taste of iron flooding his mouth and nose as his body was becoming more loose and struggles ceasing slightly.
“Look what you make me do! Just obey! Obey and all this will be easier on you, Villain. I’m doing this to help you! To make you better. Stronger, and you fight me the entire way!”
Brother let go of Villain’s hair and left them kneeling in front of the toilet. Villain spat some of the blood into the bowl in protest.
“What do you expect me to do?” Villain asked, the fight gone out of them. They just wanted this beating to be over with as soon as possible. They wanted to sleep.
“You’re going to throw up your dinner.”
Villain turned their head to Brother, eyes narrowing into a glare. “No I’m not.”
“Yes you are.”
Villain put two hands on either side of the toilet bowl and stood up. Brother grinned, though his eyes betrayed the emptiness of it. The malice behind their smile. The sick twisted enjoyment of Villain being defiant.
“Getting brave now, are we?” Brother hummed, head tilting as they regarded Villain. Fists balled by their sides and that hatred fuelled glare told Brother he was in for a fight. Good. “You’re throwing up your dinner tonight, Villain. The choice is whether you want to do it, or I do it. Either way you’re not getting out of here until you do.”
“Hope you’re ready for the long haul then,” said Villain and they struck first. Brother hummed as Villain’s fist connected with their jaw.
“Maybe you have been working out,” said Brother, and he swung his fist. Villain ducked under Brother’s arm and used his momentum to shove him forward. Villain didn’t wait to see if he fell or how far, he turned to the door, unlocked it and bolted out of it and down the stairs.
Brother’s footsteps followed close behind, haunting Villain as they desperately ran to the front door, unlocking it and yanking it open. A hand slammed it shut above their head and Villain yanked at it with all their strength but it barely budged open again before clicking shut.
“Kids!” Dad said from the kitchen and Villain ran to them. To help them, save them. Brother yanked on the hood of Villain’s jumper, choking them but Villain scrambled out of the stupid jumper and kept running, fixing their t-shirt as they ran into the kitchen.
“Why are you two—“
“Brother has been beating me,” Villain all but screamed. He panted as his lungs tried to catch up with him, swallowing air like it was free pizza at the arcade. “He’s been beating me, all the time. That’s how I get the bruises. That’s how I get the cuts,” Villain said, showing them his patchwork arms that he hid beneath his hoodies and long sleeves.
Well not anymore. No more hiding. Screw that. Screw protecting their psycho older Brother.
Brother walked slowly into the room, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe, Villain’s jumper in his fist. Black eyes watching Villain as they spoke. Completely unfazed.
“That’s why I’m wearing jumpers in July. That’s why I haven’t worn shorts all year. He has been beating me, cutting me, hurting me— and neither of you ever lifted a finger. Ever noticed how much he was hurting me, but you know now, so please… please…” Villain begged, tears flooding his eyes and streaming fat and fast down his face. “He told me I have to throw up the Chinese we just ate. He locked me in the bathroom with him and told me either I did it or he would make me. Make me throw up.”
The more Villain spoke, the louder the silence became as their parents looked both shocked and horrified at what Villain was telling them, but didn’t say anything about it.
“Please,” Villain sniffed. “Please say something. Tell him to fuck off. To stop hurting me please. I can’t live like this, I can’t.”
“Oh sweetheart, come here,” said Mum and Villain ran straight into her arms. She wrapped him in the warmest, tightest hug he had ever had and shushed him as he cried. Running gentle fingers through his hair. “It’s okay. We’ll sort this out, okay?”
Villain nodded against her shoulder.
“You want to explain what Villain just said, Brother?” Dad asked and Villain felt warmth flood through their chest as they realised that mum and dad believed them. They actually believed them, despite what Brother had told them all this time.
Brother let out a sigh. Villain turned to face him, stepping out of their mum’s arms and slightly in front of her. Inky black eyes followed Villain’s movements and settled on their face as they spoke.
“Villain is out of control,” said Brother, voice calm. “Ever since we were kids he has been picking fights with kids for no good reason, so I’ve been trying to help him out since he came into secondary school. He doesn’t… he just doesn’t listen. Everyone else, listens! He just again and again refuses my help.”
“Your help is making sure I can’t wear proper clothes anymore you dick!” Villain yelled, a hand on their shoulder calmed them as their mum shushed them.
“See what I mean?” Brother said, gesturing at Villain. “They have these outbursts all the time! I tried to reason with them for years, and I’ve just grown impatient. The only thing that Villain responds to is violence. It hurts me as much as it hurts them, but it’s just a fact.”
“That doesn’t give you a right to hurt them,” said Dad and Brother shook their head with a scoff.
“It does. Do you know how hard it is to be perfect? I have worked my arse off trying to make you both proud of me. Trying to be the best, I just want to help people, you know this. I want to be good, and join the Hero program. I want to make the world a better place.”
“That still doesn’t explain cutting and punching your brother, Brother,” Dad scolded, glancing back at Villain’s arms. “You have left them with scars!”
“That was the last resort, Dad! That was after they got into another fight at school with a teacher no less.”
“What fight?” Mum asked and Villain stiffened under her comforting hand.
Brother sighed again, more dramatically this time and ran his hand down his face, before finally stepping into the kitchen. Villain took an instinctive step back, their back hitting Mum. Brother didn’t even smile like they usually would at Villain’s fear. It sent a shiver up Villain’s spine.
“I think you should sit down,” said Brother, tone somber and heavy. He pulled a chair out for himself and sat down. Mum and Dad shared a look then did the same. All in their usual places. Mum and dad sitting across from each other. Brother and Villain sitting across from each other.
Brother threw Villain’s hoodie onto the table and Villain took it back hesitantly, before throwing it back on.
Hiding.
Again.
It felt like one nail in their coffin.
“Ever since we were kids,” Brother began, looking at Villain. “I have been protecting Villain from getting into trouble as much as I could. Which means, if he got into a fight with another kid I would smooth talk the other kid until I knew they wouldn’t tell a teacher or their parents or anything.”
“Why?” Dad asked.
“Because…” Brother said, throwing his hands up in a useless gesture. “I had built this pristine reputation. Everyone liked me. Everyone wanted to be friends with me, and then Villain comes along and gets into fights left and right, I didn’t want people to think bad of us. Or for either of you to be troubled by Villain’s fighting.”
“Is this true, Villain?” Mum asked, and Villain’s heart sunk to the bottom of their stomach.
Villain swallowed helpless, looking from Mum to Dad to Brother. “I— yes, but I wasn’t fighting for bad reasons! I promise!”
“How many fights did you get into?” Dad asked and Villain was quiet. “How many fights a week, then, Villain?”
“I—“ Villain said with a sigh, shoulders sagging. “I didn’t keep count.”
“There was that many?” Mum asked and Villain shrunk in their seat.
“There was about three fights a week,” said Brother, and Villain glared at him.
“No way there was three!”
“You just said you didn’t keep count,” said Brother matter of factly.
Villain turned to their parents and said: “I wasn’t fighting just to fight. I was fighting like how Brother fought. For people being bullied by other people. And sometimes even for brother—“
“Punching a bully only makes you a bully, Villain,” said Dad, shaking his head.
“Say that to the people being bullied! I was a bully, but I was a bully of bullies!” Villain protested. “The bullies were afraid of me, so they left other people alone.”
“There’s no need to raise your voice, Villain,” Dad chastised and Villain bowed their head and said: “sorry.”
Dad turned back to Brother then. “And Brother, you didn’t need to take this on board for us. You should have let those kids call home so we would know what is going on with Villain as it happens. We are the parents, not you.”
Brother had the audacity to look humbled by the reprimanding. “I’m sorry dad. I just thought… I’m Villain’s big brother. It’s my job to protect them. To help them. To guide them through the troubles of High school and now that they’re older they can’t think fighting solves everything. Especially not fighting with teachers.”
When Dad turned to face Villain again, and Mum was looking at Villain too, Villain saw the way Brother’s repentance morphed into a twisted grin. As if they already knew that they had won Mum and Dad over.
“What was the fight with your teacher about, sweetheart?” Mum asked gently.
Villain frowned, foreboding settling on their chest like a breezeblock, as they realised, it didn’t matter what they said. Somehow brother would twist the story and make themselves look good. They needed to be convincing and tell the truth.
“They said that Heroes were stupid, that they ruined our city and brought all the psychos and Villains into the spotlight, said we were wasting our taxes on them when they destroy our buildings and roads with their fighting.”
Even retelling the words that stupid teacher used made Villain’s hands curl into fists by their sides, how dare they say such a thing. Bet they wouldn’t be so cocky if a Villain was holding them hostage and a Hero saved them.
“And what did you do?” Dad asked.
Villain raised their head, chin jutting in the air and said: “I told him that it was very rude of him not to appreciate how hard the Heroes work to keep us all safe. Then he got mad at me and—“
Brother snorted from across the table. All heads turned to face him. Brother had the audacity to look innocent, but their eyes held that same knowing stare, twinkling with confidence that they could win their parents to his side.
“That’s not what I heard happened,” said Brother and Villain nearly lunged for him, but with the table in the way they wouldn’t be able to reach over and punch him. “I heard you called the teacher an idiot and caused a riot in your class over Heroes and Villains and where teachers fit into the spectrum.”
“That’s a lie,” Villain hissed, slamming their hands on the table. Brother beamed at that.
“See? Villain has issues, anger issues! They can’t even handle me telling the other side of the story.”
“The other side of a story you made up in your head, Brother! You’re lying!”
Brother sat back in their chair, smug, and scoffed. Folding their arms across their chest they said, “fine. All Mum and Dad have to do is call the teacher and they’ll tell them what really happened.”
“And?” Hero asked, voice gentle and soft and safe.
Villain hummed, a wry smile on their lips. “They went to fact check Brother’s story.”
“And what happened?”
“In the time it took them to make the call, Brother had me upstairs, wheezing, winded and over the toilet, spidery fingers down my throat.”
“Christ, Villain!”
“I know,” Villain said with a small laugh. “I guess the fear started there… and Brother… they knew how much it got under my skin, more so than the cuts and bruises, so he kept doing it. In school, out of school, on the way home. He was relentless.”
“And where is he now? Brother, I mean.”
“He was here earlier but I think he’s gone now, I think, shit, I must have been hallucinating or something,” Villain said, eyes widening slightly.
“Let’s just hope you start feeling better tomorrow, Vil.”
“I better. I’m looking forward to your chicken soup,” Villain hummed and Hero laughed.
“You just spent the last twenty four hours throwing up and all you can think about is food?”
“I’m a simple person, Hero, and your soup is like a miracle cure.”
“You’re putting a lot of hope in this soup,” said Hero and Villain laughed, cuddling closer to Hero.
“No, I’m not. I just— Hero… thank you for everything today.”
“You’ve done it for me before,” said Hero, “remember the food poisoning incident? That was not pretty.”
“Just take the compliment, crime fighter,” Villain murmured sleepily. Hero just smiled and kissed Villain’s head and said: “okay, Vil. I’ll take the compliment. Go to sleep.”
Villain’s soft, even breaths was Hero’s answer, and they smiled, and closed their eyes as well. Holding Villain closer than they ever have before.
*~*~*~*~*
#delirious villain x hero caretaker#hero caretaker x delirious villain#writblr#hero villain writing#hero villain snippet#hero villain story#hero#villain#writing#orphan writing#orphan#tw: vomit#tw: forced vomiting#tw: abuse#tw: family problems#tw: family abuse#tw: brother abuser#tw: sickness#illness whump#physical illness#ill Villain#fear of being sick#past whump implied#past whump explained#fever#fever mentioned#forced to vomit#forced to throw up#brother whumper#hurt/comfort
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The two flavors of being stuck in bed:
There are things I really want to be doing but I can’t because I can’t get out of bed and that’s depressing.
I have absolutely no desire to get out of bed. Am I really sick/having a flare or am I “just” depressed?
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#corazon#rota#amor#tristeza#sad poem#sadnees#another love#sadgirl#corazon en pedazos#desamor#physical illness#mental illness#mental breakdown#im broke#fall down#no tears left to cry#tears in my eyes#sad thoughts#tw depressing thoughts#thoughts#im crying#brokers
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currently in a lot of pain cause i went to the grocery store for 10mins yesterday being disabled rules /s
#disabled#disability#actually disabled#chronic illness#chronic pain#chronically ill#disabled life#disability life#fibromyalgia#joint pain#physical illness
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to anyone with ancestors who survived An Gorta Mór (The Great Famine, who also has a binging/restricting eating disorder... i can guarantee you, there has got to be at least one person in your lineage who would be happy to see you eat well. your ancestors who starved, who had to see their loved ones get sick or die... they would be happy to see you healthy, and deeply saddened to see you in this pain - yes, even if you're fat. especially if you're fat.
if you don't have it in you to eat for your own wellbeing... i hope that maybe, it might help to think of them. to do it for them, the people who survived such great pain, such great hunger, and would never want you to feel that pain too. you are not alone. the love they had for their descendants lives on in you. you are made of the survival of the irish... in spite of colonialism and mass death, no matter how disconnected from your family's culture you may be.
you are loved.
#softspoonie#the great hunger#irish#irish diaspora#irish heritage#irish history#eating disorder#anorexia#bulimia#eating disorder recovery#ancestry#family history#cultural genocide#mental health#mental health positivity#eating disorder positivity#disordered eating#mentally ill#mental illness#physical illness#chronic illness#disabled#disability positivity#self care#self love#love#the great famine
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I would like the people who are part of my life to understand that no matter how much my health improves, even if I have a better quality of life, even if I find a job that I can do, I will never stop being sick and being disabled and I will never stop needing mobility aids and going around as somebody who is not physically disabled. There is no other life for me besides the life of a disabled person and I am really okay with that, but to get even better I need people to stop bugging me.
#disability#disabled#physical illness#physically disabled#chronically ill#ehlers danlos syndrome#chronic fatigue#pots syndrome#cfs/me#myalgic encephalomyelitis#chronic pain#mobility aid#mobility aid user#crutch user#wheelchair user#cripple problems#cripple life#cripple punk
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if someone is angry posting, swearing, yelling and just generally seeming aggressive to you on their own blog then just leave them to be angry
its better to let people let off steam than telling them off, calling them names and telling them to chill especially on their own blog.
people are allowed to be angry and post about it, and especially in the case of a cripplepunk blog-which has a lot to do with the anger we phys disabled people have towards ableism-we're going to be angry and post about it. dont tell people to "relax, this anger doesnt solve anything, youre just being toxic" youre just telling us to bottle up how we feel because you dont want to hear us vent out our frustrations and bring awareness to the root of our anger.
if someone is angry on their own blog, even if theyre cursing people out in response to their reblog replies, comments and asks, let them blow off steam. leave them be.
its one issue if someone goes to another person's blog and angry vents and cusses and shit like that yeah but going to the blog of someone whos angry to try and shut them up is different matter.
if you dont want to see it, its not that hard to make the smallest effort to avoid it with a scroll or a click.
telling someone whos angry to stop being angry only makes them more upset, it only makes you part of the problem thats causing their anger.
when someone tells us to stop being angry when people are trying to silence our voice on topics of ableism, they become part of the reason we're angry in the first place.
emotions are a reaction a person can manage not fully control like a light switch.
stop telling people to calm down. stop telling disabled folk to relax, stop telling us to be quiet.
[ID: banner reading "This blog is protected by the De Rolo family and co." in all caps. It has an orange cloud background. On the left is the De Rolo coat of arms and on the right is the symbol of Vox Machina]
#cass rants#cripplepunk#cpunk#cripple punk#cpunk blog#cripplepunk blog#crip punk#cripple punk blog#disabled#physical disability#physically disabled#disability blogging#actually disabled#physical illness#angry cripple#crippled anger#disabled anger
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