Good intentions

 Good intentions = baseless assumptions. This is almost always true. Even when the people who have them seem to think they are hallowed or sacred somehow. They are still assumptions, until they are checked out and researched.

Am I human? Do people with Autism count as human beings?

 Often, when I actually succeed in pointing out a wrong done to me by some one I know, the answer is something along the lines of: "I'm only human." I have had this said to me by my siblings, my mother, the same roommate that told me that when it came to doing the dishes, there had to be a different set of rules for me than for her and my sister. In case you're too lazy to scroll down to find that post, the rule was (her rule, it was never mine) that I had to do the dishes RIGHT after I was done eating. I could not wait, I could not leave them in the sink. But she and my sister could, because they weren't "special needs". Due to my diagnosis of Asperger's syndrome, she thought that the label of special needs applied to me.

She would also point out, when I had actually scored a point in an argument, that she was only human and made mistakes. As if she never got foaming at the mouth enraged whenever I made mistakes. And yes, she did. I also remember pointing out flaws in her arguments, or what I thought were flaws. That would get her going too.

I have wondered if I am allowed to claim status as human. I mean, I am human-shaped. I walk and speak, and am capable of making decisions for myself, when someone hasn't already made them for me. Do I really have the right to make mistakes, as a human being? Do I have the right to learn from them the way so many others do? If the answer is yes, than why do those who used hover over me, 

I think that similar questions get asked by members of other communities that fall under the neurodivergent/disability umbrella. Do they get to claim human status too? If they do, why is ableism so excusable? Or even defended? Ableism is often defended as good intentions.

One last thing. That roommate who insisted I live under a different set of rules because I was special needs, also qualified as special needs. The year we were roommates was also the year she turned thirty. She was hearing impaired then. Yet she thought she could get by with one hearing aid, in the ear that had the weakest hearing. Imagine being told that you have to abide by a different set of rules than the other two people that live with you, because you were diagnosed with Asperger's the year before. By a woman who has hearing that is so bad that questions and statements have to be repeated more than once, or even twice, when her hearing aid was in her ear and turned on. The reason she gave for not wearing one in each ear was that it felt like living in a microphone. She felt she was capable of making her own decisions about hearing aids and how many she wore. But I couldn't about when I did the dishes I used.

Is it human of me to be angry about this?

Same old, same old.

I  still cannot forgive the family members that tried to get me to fill out that useless form. I could literally still write the same post today that I wrote in October. I think I know why that forgiveness for this does not come easily; it's because that if what I went through cannot be classified as trauma, then it comes pretty close. The Dictionary.com definition of trauma is "an experience that produces psychological injury or pain". The Student's Oxford that lives on my desk classifies it as: "emotional shock following a stressful event, sometimes leading to long-term neurosis" or "a distressing or emotionally disturbing experience". 

This, of course, comes after realizing that two of my sisters thought they were more than capable of making every single decision for me, except for the small, inconsequential ones, like how I like my coffee, or what to order at a fast food restaurant.

One example of a decision that was "made for me" was the endless push for me to move to Alberta, because people on disability in that province get more. The catch is, it has been harder to get on disability in Alberta for years. And it has recently gotten much harder. Of course, that means the time invested in applying is enormous. In the province I am in now, there were delays in applying for disability. A lot of it was due to ignorance. I did have to apply three times. In Alberta, I think the process is more convoluted than it is here. 

And of course, what makes me moving out to Alberta even better (to my "decision-makers") is that I am "allowed" to come back for visits.

None of this is supposed to have made me enraged or even angry. None of this was supposed to have traumatized me. Yet, it did regardless.

I cannot forget who else has also traumatized me, by doing essentially the same thing; my former roommate. When I lived in another bigger city than the one I am in now, I had a roommate who thought it was a good idea to also appoint herself as my "decision maker". She reminded me that I was "special needs" often. I think it may have been every day, for months at a time. As if I could forget that I am on the Spectrum. Living with her was basically a circus. I am not sure which one of us was the monkey. The odd thing was, she was, and still is, "special needs" herself. She had, and must still have a hearing impairment.

I wonder, if I had never lived with that woman, would what my mother and sisters have done to me have cut me as deeply as it did? Why do I allow others to abuse me?

Nothing makes me angrier than the phrase "Good intentions". Since it is almost always stupid people that have them, and base everything on them.

I still can't find forgiveness.

 I must be immature or something. I still can't forgive my family that tried to make decisions for me, no matter how sincere their "good intentions" were. Not only do I have people in my family that are unbelievably superficial, ignorant and reckless, they explain it all away as "good intentions" and "wanting the best for me".

There's my mother, the MLM dupe who is convinced that the only reason they never work is because she doesn't have the "right personality".

One of my sisters of which I speak, who hits the blunt regularly, and thinks she is wise.

The other of the two sisters, who is reactive, sometimes ridiculously so, and thinks that is the right way to be, because she still thinks I don't have the right to stand up for myself. 

No apologies, no reasons why I keep getting served subpar bullshit on a silver platter by people who say they love me....or I was, and am just expected to deal with it. I do not feel loved. I did not feel loved when my family was trying to make me fill out that ridiculous form that would only have ever gotten me a stern lecture from some homeless outreach worker. I felt controlled. I am still dealing with the emotional fallout from this. I think I always will be.

I can barely tolerate these people now. They drove me to be as angry as I am now. They are not willing to deal with the consequences, other than saying one of the two empty platitudes listed above, and here: "Good intentions", "We just want the best for you".

All three of these people seem to be under the silly notion that I can have a life without any problems. I swear they think that just because it sounds pretty to them. They tell themselves this, or they used to, to help themselves sleep at night. Never mind that I knew it wasn't true, and I found it demeaning. Yet. They. Kept. Pushing. It.

This is about more than just the silly form that wouldn't have gotten me anything. It's about others thinking they have the right to make decisions for me. Others thinking they get to bully me. Others being offended that I stand up for myself occasionally. Such bullshit.

Another decision that they keep trying to make: move me to a different province, because the disability stipend is higher there. It's actually the highest in the country. They take it for granted that I would be able to get on it, never mind that I keep hearing, and hearing, and hearing stories about people who have tried to get on it and can't. People who have made huge time investments in this and didn't get it. Plus, this stipend used to be indexed to the cost of living, which is why it is the highest in the country. The current premier of this province went and changed it. It is no longer indexed to the cost of living. However, this is another story that my mother and two out of six of my sisters tell themselves to feel good. They won't be stopping anytime soon.

Being babied as an adult sucks,

 but actually hearing a relative reason it away by saying babying me is necessary because good intentions, good intentions, good intentions. There is little intelligence in these good intentions that come from these people, and even less critical thinking. I am starting to think that when these relatives do sh*t like this, it is not good intentions anymore; it is more of an aggressive neglect.

There is an upcoming wedding in my family. I have been uninvited to this event, because I have begun to insist on not being babied anymore. The bride was one of those who babied me. In fact, it is as if she is defending the right to baby me, to talk down to me, to belittle me. She will not be able to emotionally blackmail me with an invitation to her wedding.

When someone, the bride of the wedding I am no longer invited to, who used to be closer to me, tells me that my life is easy, when it actually isn't, what does that mean? I find it to be hurtful, ignorant and wrong to have someone else dictate to me what my life is like. As if they think they know what it would be like to be to live my life for me, and would be able to do it better than me. What they do not understand is that there are rules to being on Persons With Disability and Canada Pension Plan Disability:

1. I have to fill out a stub every month, to make sure I get the money for next month. When I first got on PWD, I did not have to do this. For the first six or seven months, I did not have to do this. Now, it's different. It has to be done by a certain date, usually around the ninth of the month. I usually fill it out and submit it online, instead of going into the provincial office to stick it in their box, because it is convenient to be able to get it done in the evening, or when it's rainy, or when I'm in my pyjamas. What is inconvenient about it is that I can't do it right away, on the same day when I get my PWD for the month. I actually have to wait for my CPP-D to come in, so I can say, on my stub, how much my CPP-D was for that month. And both payouts happen on different days. This is also known as "claiming funds", which I have to do, or I will be causing myself some problems. Lucky me.

2. Due to me being on two different types of funding, I have two different earning exemptions. If recipients of PWD having to fill out stubs so they can STAY on PWD isn't common knowledge, the $1000 earning exemption is. The CPP-D earning exemption is $483, and yes, I Googled it.

3. For as long as I am on disability benefits, I will be at the mercy of politicians and their agendas to get and stay in power. Whatever law or regulation they decide to put forward, pass and enforce, I will have to submit to it. Drug tests for everyone on Income Assistance and Persons With Disability? I would have to do it. Cut my pension in half, or take it away entirely, thus forcing me to get a job that I hate, so I can feed myself? I would have to do this. I can follow all the rules to stay on it, but if some twit politician, who has never experienced first world poverty, decides that anyone with a diagnosis that puts them anywhere on the high functioning end of the Autism Spectrum does not deserve to receive PWD, then that would force me into taking the first job I can get, no matter what it is, or whether I hate it or how much.

A rare comment

Edit: I noticed that it's difficult to tell my arguments from those of the commenter. So I decided to make mine a different colour.

Someone actually left a comment on one of my posts back in May. I was just going to leave it, but it kept bugging me. And the commenter didn't leave a name, so I can't respond to them privately. So here goes:

AnonymousMay 4, 2020 at 11:32 AM

I notice in your previous blogs, you really come down on your mother for helping you get on disability. The fact that you are now on disability, do you feel like you’re a little hard on your mother? 

She did help me get it, but she wasn't the only one. We actually needed to beg and plead for help from a social worker who went by the name Lee. He was incredibly in demand, and I was lucky to get his help. He knew a lot about Autism, and the things that come with it. Lee has written papers on Autism, and I believe they were published. 

I don't think I do come down hard on my mother for helping me get on disability. I come down hard on her for thinking it will be ridiculously easy. She is, if nothing else, a blind optimist most of the time; she is constantly wearing rose tinted glasses, and they tend to blur her perception of reality.

Do you just have a hard time being told no? 

I don't, actually. My mother does, though, when she's convinced she needs to mount some kind of "let's screw the government, they'll never know" type of mission. They know, they always do.

Would it have been better on yours and your mothers relationship if she just applied for the disability with out you knowing ? To avoid your backlash? I mean since you’re getting it now monthly, and no longer blog about that. Pardon my comparison with the “don’t bite the hand that feeds you” quote.

I'm not sure if that's possible; part of the process of applying is signing forms and other things.

Name change, and why do "good intentions" matter so much?

I think I have realized something in the past couple of months; when Support Worker sister offered to "help" me by telling me of the form that I did not need to fill out, and then writing on it that I needed maids/housekeepers/people telling me to do chores/to-do list-makers to come (something that I have learned does not actually exist, but plenty of people think that something like this should) she was high. High as in had smoked marijuana high. Who knows how much; she wasn't giggling, or eating, but rationality and intelligence was probably too much to ask for. She had made up a household chore, after all. So now, at least on this blog, her name is changed from Support Worker to Pot Princess.

I wonder if anyone knows that the part on that form they thought applied to me only did if I had already been in public housing already, and it was for some reason, not working out; and I would have gone to significant lengths to make it work out. And if actually reading the form was too much, one of them could have called the phone number on the first page. 

Calling that number would have been better than my mother's dismissal when I told her that nothing on that form actually said it was FOR me; it would have been better than the tug of war we had for weeks over this; it would have been better than me hearing her say that it wouldn't do any harm to fill out this ridiculous form, when it actually did; it would have been better than having Defender come out of nowhere, and "defend" Pot Princess as much as she did. As if I should accept the shoddy "good intentions" simply because they were offered to me.

Which brings me to my next topic: it seems like these same family members of mine think I should take it for granted that they always have "good intentions"; everything they do is or was based on "good intentions", no matter how ignorant, ridiculous or silly. It's as if they believe the "good intentions" they have for me are printed on their foreheads whenever they have one. Do I have to say that they aren't? That these silly and naive "good intentions" are childish and tacky? That their quality matches that of spray painted macaroni jewelry that were crafted at a camp somewhere?