FOR I AM THE SHAPESHIFTER

I was out the other day when this spiritual group approached me. They had this stand set up and were offering “divine healing” and such. One of them saw me and that I had a mobility aid and started questioning me and asking me if I was in pain plus similar shit like that. I wasn’t even walking walking towards the stand, I was walking away from it and one of them went out of their way to chase me down. Can you just fucking leave me alone?!!? Is it that hard?

Grown ass adults approaching me (a minor) on the street so they can take advantage of my pain for the sake of financial gain. In their minds, whether they be Christian, spiritual or any other religion, I am misguided and “cursed”. My entire existence is a story for them to put on their Facebook page, flaunting me about to say “look how nice we are to disabled people!” or manipulate people in pain to think that they can be healed by buying into these scams. A douchebag in a fedora with a crystal isn’t going to heal me of my disabilities.

I’m not your advertisement, not your inspiration and not your money making scheme. Dehumanising me and touching me, giving me unwanted help doesn’t make you an angel just a piece of shit. I’m done letting people treat me like an accessory. If that makes me a “bad disabled” then so fucking be it. If people aren’t going to treat me like a person I don’t think I should be forced to accomodate to them . They are grown ass adults and they are making my life hell.

It’s scary when you have paralysis and can go paralysed at any moment but you can’t access a wheelchair. If I go paralysed in public like on the sidewalk somewhere?!! I just have to wait there sprawled on the floor. I thought I was just being dramatic but when I mentioned it to my friends they all looked at me really concerned and said “isn’t that really dangerous?”

Answer: yes but doctors don’t care because “it’s all in my head” and “it’s good for me to struggle a bit, it’ll help me get better”.

Tw vent, self harm, skin picking

People think that telling me that my skin picking scars look ugly and scary will make me stop picking. You can’t go to the beach and wear a bikini, you’re gonna scare people, it’s not nice to look at, etc.

I don’t think that’s what matters most here.

TW vent, self harm, ocd.

I have problems with skin picking. I get nervous now wearing short sleeves because people question me about it when they see all the scabs and blood. I’ve got quite a lot of scarring from it as well. Whenever I move my arms it hurts because of all the cuts and stuff. Not sure if it’s to do with my ocd or not.

I’m pretty sure it goes beyond what is considered normal, to the point my skin will be bloody and covered and marks afterwards. Can’t tell if I’m just being dramatic, but when people see it they tend to get freaked out as well so it might be an issue. There’s scarring all down my arms from it now. I should be able to stop? Why can’t I just stop?

I’ve always felt ashamed of these sort of things. I think I’m going to start talking about these problems I have and start getting better. If you’re someone with ocd or similar issues I hope you don’t experience shame. And if you do I hope this makes you feel just a bit better. You have nothing to be ashamed about.

A really old poem I wrote just as I was trying to get out of christianity, all the energy I had dedicated towards purging myself of evil and repenting went towards rage. I randomly remembered it when the election results came in. To all who are endangered by this result, we are with you. We must all rely on each other, we will get through this. It's not over yet. Wherever it is you draw strength, rely upon that. Whether that be in community or in my case the expression of rage.

Rage is an assurance that we will not forget the horrors that have been done.

TW vent.

Humans are always trying to hurt me. I don’t know why. I’ve been a good shapeshifter, I’ve been kind to them, befriended them. Even those who have been unkind to me I give second chances. I just don’t understand. I did everything I was supposed to. I’ve always trusted people but I feel as if this part of myself slipping away each time I am struck. Why should I trust if every person I am kind to has so far wounded me so that I am behind recognition? They have torn my wings, declawed me and skinned me for my fur to use for their coats. Now I am bound to the ground, I do nothing but wait for the next human who will come to finish me off. At least my suffering brings them joy.

Tw, vent, bullying, general discrimination, harassment and intimidation, ableism

The bush was the only place I felt a moment at home. Exploring it and coming to know it was a challenge I welcomed. Watching where the lizards run and how the birds feathers change through the seasons. Watching the frog spawn come and go, seeing the tadpoles in their pools then smiling as I hear the crack of a frog as I know they have grown up. Singing in harmony with the wind, as the birds do the same. Howling to the trees and looking at the reflection of the moon in the water. There were no humans there, it was my safe place. But since what happened it is not safe anymore because now I know more than ever I am not safe. I can’t even sit in silence by the water anymore without fear of being bullied for things I cannot control. I cannot leave my house because when I do I risk those boys finding me again. One time was enough. What if the next time they get to my cane. Write I can, what if my legs do not work well and I am trapped, what if they see me tic?

I am not eager to be in danger again.