Blame

If some rappers rely on the motto “blame it on the alcohol,” mine would be “blame it on the CMT.” Whenever something goes awry I always blame it on my disability. A friend cancels plans the last minute? Must be because of my disease. I don’t get the job that I painstakingly wrote a cover letter for? Must be because of my disease. Even if things don’t happen, I blame it on my disease. That guy whom I chatted with in Spanish class didn’t ask me out? Well it must be because I have super skinny arms and I use a scooter.

I realize how ridiculous this thought process is but sometimes I can’t shake off my conviction – it grips me and I believe it whole-heartedly. There can, although, be some personal advantages by playing the disabled card. Amp up looking weak and bashful when getting help to pick up something I’ve dropped even if I can perfectly manage to do it myself. In general though, blaming anything bad that happens in my life on my disease is treating my disability like complete trash. It already is hard enough for me when sometimes strangers say ignorant comments or I have one of those days where I’m just like fuck, why me? Therefore to treat my disability as a draining baggage that I have to always carry, one that I can remove personal flaws about myself so it can take responsibility for it instead is wrong. Who I am as an entire person is not exempt from judgment; just like anyone else I can be judged for my hair, skin, eye color; what I wear; my personality; my humor and whatever other detail I have. A friend cancels plans on me the last minute? There can be many reasons to explain why, and one can surely be well, fuck, maybe I snapped and said something snarky to her without me realizing it. A guy doesn’t ask me out? Well maybe I just wasn’t his type – perhaps my humor didn’t match his or I simply wasn’t his type. Who knows? There are thousands of possible answers but trying to figure out which is the correct one is beside the point. What matters is that not everything has to be about my disability. A lot of the times I get upset at other people for only seeing my disability and then treating me differently because of it. It’s funny, though because I sometimes forget that I do the exact thing to myself, too. That’s when I remind myself – my disability doesn’t encompass who I am completely. My disability is not entirely bad. You take responsibility for your actions and words as a whole person – not by blaming it on something else.

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