Exhausted for fake disability allies:
They tell you to water yourself down and be less disabled whilst bragging about a trophy he got for supporting disabled people.
They tell you to be less disabled, and less neurospicy otherwise they won't work with you to eradicate ableism and then brag they're polishing their trophy the next day.
They claim to have a disability themselves and yet refuse to wear it and accept it, hiding it half the time, and they claim to be an ally.
They overlook abuse an autistic lady dealt with to try and flex and ego and got defensive when brought to their attention, so they attempted to attack by mentioning my adult erotica books.
No amount of trophies will help with how your attitude is when it comes to the disabled, and without naming names I'm getting tired and exhausted from fake disability allies getting awards whilst behaving in ways that goes against the disabled community.
I never asked them to hide their disability, never asked for their trophy or proof, never told them to change if they wanted to work with me and I embrace and accept different.
More people need to.
They messaged me this morning trying to be funny and I simply wish them well.
They don't believe they can be ableist because they have a disability (they admit to hiding and watering down) and yet here we are.
I can't save everyone but I wish some people would leave me alone when they realise I'm not for them and that they have so much education and work to be done on themselves to be a REAL ally, not an ornamental fake one for validation.
Really... This world is getting worse.
Not going to even name the bloke, he's named on my social media as I have screenshots and a fake apology yesterday clearly means nothing if he is taking the mickey today.
I'm sad for society.
Really sad.
Sarah x
Image reads: I think one of the worst parts of having a chronic illness is how it sometimes just breaks you, you can have several bad days in a row and handle it fine, then one day you lose it because you have gone so long taking it that you eventually get to a point where you just can't do it anymore. After a period of inconsolable grief, you pick yourself up and start the cycle again.
