Perfect Home: A disabled story:

 'Perfect Home'

What is perfect?

I've never said I was, nor aspired to be

Perfect.

Perfect simply doesn't exist.

So why do I feel like this?

Having to re-arrange and re-adjust my whole life,

Around illnesses I never wanted nor asked for.

Like having a thousand wood peckers around your body peck peck pecking away at a thousand miles per hour and a hornets nest in your mind with no escape.

How can you escape from your own body and mind?

This is why people need to be more patient and more kind.

I will forever be 'less-than' the girl that I was,

The girl that could.

When I could finish a task in a matter of minutes that I can't do today in a matter of months.

The hare has become the tortoise and it's hard to feel like you'll ever reach the finish line when everyone is on a different speed setting and pain level than you.

You are expected to do exactly the same as everyone else but with a huge difference.

You're a tortoise surrounded by hares and you're weighed down, underwater, struggling for air in a world that just refuses to stop.

A world that labels you lazy or becomes derogatory instead of offering compassion and understanding.

Rest is self - care.

Tasks of any sort take time when you're disabled.

You can't do what you want, when you want because you have to endure the pain and illnesses and how the disability affects you until you're well enough, both physically and mentally to be able to face the tasks.

You're hard on yourself, always improving yourself.

Then peck peck peck again and you're lost in the storm again, surrounded by judgement and lack of support and help. With expectations of yourself far higher and you're already far harder on yourself than anyone else could ever be.

I've only been out of my wheelchair a year and I still have an immense amount of work to do at home, cleaning messes and clutter up that I'm NOT solely responsible for.

Cleaning up my mind, my heart and soul from the aching, heartbreaking and taking of others.

Creating a place I can call home from what felt like a prison cell I was tortured in, by the fact I can't do what I need to do and people who were meant to be there and protect and support me just never came through.

Instead they blame you.

I can't clean as fast and as well as I used to.

I'm still coming to terms with my disability and how it affects me and trying to build a world for me, a life for me around it. 

Everything is more expensive as a result of not being as capable. It's not just time that's not on side.

Everything is on top of you and there's no place to hide. 

I'm still coming to terms with the fact I wasn't loved like I should have been. 

None of that was love.

I'm not a tool to be used, I'm a person with feelings and a good heart.

And building a life and home for myself and de-cluttering is going to take me years but it's where I need to start.

All I have to do is make a start and chip away at it all until I've got the life I want. 

I don't need your pity or judgement.

I just need space from that so I can stay focused and not get drained or overwhelmed so I can continue to create a life where no matter how bad my pain is on the daily, I can have a place I can rest, feel safe, be at peace and be my best.

I deserve,

A home.

I deserve a home.

Written by S. W.

@kawaiidolldecora

18:32hrs Thu 22Dec2022

#disability #disabled #broken #bekind #bekindtoyourmind #bekindtoyourself