you know what? the world stinks if you are considered disabled.
it gets a little bit stinkier if you are non-verbal and therefore considered voiceless.
and it gets the stinkiest when people insist you are more disabled than you are therefore holding you back from your full potential.
i was told using ‘you’ in a sentence was confrontational when describing the situation.
that’s not confrontational, what’s confrontational is the whole time i was talking to you, i was thinking you looked like gary shandling with a tan.
“she will be a child her whole life.” i was told about emma and why she cannot decide whether or not she wants to go somewhere.
“even children get a choice to say no.” i countered.
“no they don’t.” i was told.
“i don’t know about you, but i do give my children quite a few choices.” i replied.
those of you who have been reading this blog for the long haul know there have been ups and downs with emma. know there have been grieving processes and celebratory jumps. yesterday i found myself grieving a little more.
when emma turned 18, i genuinely, truly, sincerely, thought she would have a little more voice. a little more freedom, and little more rights.
it does not matter if she does not want to go. it does not matter if we have to force her out of the car. she should have a choice not to go. one choice in the mid-week visit is all that was requested.
being non-verbal does not make you silent, and that is the biggest travesty of all.
it does not matter. her voice does not matter.
and that, gentle readers, makes me confrontational.
luckily i packed my angry eyes.