7:35pm June 4, 2014

A disability experience I don’t know the word for

So there are some things I’ve been able to do that, I guess, would be considered fairly “big” things for anyone, disabled or not. I say this not to boast, because frankly when I did them I had no sense of how these things were generally perceived, or how difficult others found them.

But in any case…in retrospect, it has become clear to me that I was able to do these things in part *due to being disabled*. I don’t mean because of any supposed “autistic superpowers”, and I don’t mean because I got enough services to give me an “advantage” (just, no), and I don’t mean because I was able to Just Try Really Hard And Inspirationally Overcome Disability.

I mean…something else entirely but I have no idea what to call it. And I get the sense maybe there’s no vocabulary for it *because nondisabled people don’t perceive it as possible”. I could be wrong but I know there are other things like that. But still.

The best way I can actually describe it is to say that I suspect growing up disabled forces you to improvise, to see options where others would not because you’ve always HAD to see them or die (and because you know people in your situation sometimes *do* die).

All that said, I am not saying this always happens, and I am certainly not saying that it’s a sign of strength of character. Frankly I think it’s part of a state in which a person turns the resources that nondisabled folks reserve for literal life and death emergencies and apply them to everyday life because the only alternative is…not living. And we pay for it once we run out of luck or adrenaline or whatever.

But this is still a fraught thing to write about because there *is* a part of me that remains fiercely attached to what I know are tools I have, that may be rare for anyone to have, that could come in super handy one day in a truly dire situation. I wouldn’t wish the process that forces me to obtain these tools on anyone, though.