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View Diary: Dear Food Police (246 comments)

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  •  This isn't entirely about FOOD. (27+ / 0-)

    It's about human dignity. It's about the right to live your own life as you see fit, without stares or glares from others who might not agree with your choices.

    It's about losing control over your own life to the point where you can't drive, and have to ride paratransit for six hours to do something that would take someone else twenty minutes.

    It's about riding in a car with someone else, knowing full well that because they can drive and you can't, they're the boss, and in the long run you have no say over where you end up going.

    It's about walking into a place with lights that affect you badly, and having people stare because your arms and hands curl up, your legs get stiff, and sometimes it's bad enough that you start crying whether you want to or not.

    Trying to find a job when you know you can't do a full day's work, but wanting the feeling of productivity, because damn it you have a strong work ethic. A real paycheck doesn't hurt either.

    Getting paralyzed during an interview or meeting and scaring the people you're with half to death, because even though you gave them a piece of paper explaining your disability and TOLD them they should read it first, they didn't - or maybe just the fact that you're paralyzed and can't talk to them for a while scares the ever-loving SHIT out of them, and they would rather you just didn't come back. That's happened at job interviews... and after I got weaker, it happened at the Division of Freaking Vocational Rehabilitation for crying out loud.

    Sitting at home dealing with constant stomach pain, weakness, muscle aches, strange symptoms that come and go and you have no idea if they're dangerous or not, so you sit and wait... and wait... and hope they go away on their own...

    And the boredom. The extreme boredom of not working, and not having the energy to do a whole lot. Hearing someone saying "Gee, I wish I could trade you places! I'd love it if I didn't have to work." No. No, you wouldn't. You might like it for the first week, or month, or... well, by a year's time, you might go a bit off the deep end. Especially if you're used to having a job.

    So yeah. You lose a lot of control in your life. One of the very few things you have left is the choice of what you get to eat that day (aside from having to deal with 15 food allergies and figuring out what's safe that day and what will probably get you in trouble)....

    And there you are, at the end of the day, eating that one square of chocolate after having a healthy meal....

    ...knowing that someone, somewhere, is just SO pissed off at you for eating something UNHEALTHY. Someone who probably eats junk food themselves wants to take away that last little bit of control that you have left....

    Sure. Trade lives with me. Any one of you who is telling me I shouldn't eat what I want... trade lives with me. You can have my body with its rare disorder and inability to drive... and I'll gladly take your job. And the money that comes with it. And the CHOICES.

    I fucking DARE you.

    "We have only the moral ground we actually inhabit, not the moral ground we claim." - It Really Is That Important

    by Diogenes2008 on Thu Mar 21, 2013 at 08:20:57 PM PDT

    [ Parent ]

    •  G-d yes. (20+ / 0-)

      They can come be the ones with the head full of squirrels and talking birds.  The hallucinations and the body that you can't control because of the side effects of the medications that control the crazypants - a bit. Sometimes.  

      The boredom and the SHAME of being disabled in America - of being a man and unable to work when you LOOK able bodied but can't function in a way that makes work possible right now.  Of freezing up in job interviews.  Of being overwhelmed by loud noises and bright lights and simply too much sensory input because of autism.  

      Of trying to explain that you need some small accommodations, but if you have them you are one hell of a worker at the tasks you can perform well.  Of begging people to see past the labels and giving you a chance when there are so many people out of work - you're the bottom of the pile.

      I speak multiple languages.  I can organize, create work systems, streamline processes, work the night shift, cook one hell of a meal and even make people laugh with me rather than at me in the right circumstances.  I won multiple awards for productivity when I was well, for saving companies millions of dollars, for award winning food too - I became a chef when I couldn't handle office workspaces anymore. But finding those opportunities to be a part of a society that doesn't want you - so very slim right now.

      And now they want to take away my freaking Diet Pepsi because I don't deserve a little luxury because poor = stupid?  It just chaps my ass.

      And we sail and we sail and we never see land, just the rum in the bottle and a pipe in my hand...

      by Mortifyd on Thu Mar 21, 2013 at 08:39:49 PM PDT

      [ Parent ]

    •  Oh, sweetie, no. (10+ / 0-)

      That must be awful.

      I think if I could get food stamps, I would eat steak once a month, and wonderful cheeses a bit more often.

      And lots of whole-wheat pasta.

      But those little luxuries...they mean a lot to us poor people.  The middle class has NO FUCKING CLUE.

      Irony takes a worse beating from Republicans than Wile E. Coyote does from Acme. --Tara the Antisocial Social Worker

      by Youffraita on Fri Mar 22, 2013 at 01:17:45 AM PDT

      [ Parent ]

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