The Monster In The Living Room

As a disabled person myself, I am excused from certain behaviors BECAUSE I’m disabled. I’ve had people refuse to make arguments with me because “They couldn’t argue with someone mentally disabled.” I’ve had people dismiss toxic behaviors because I’m autistic. If I’m wrong, I may not understand it, but how can I learn to be better if someone doesn’t openly talk to me about it? It’s infantilization, and honestly, it’s ableist not to hold disabled people accountable for their actions. Disabled adults can still make mistakes, have problematic and hurtful behaviors, be racist, transphobic, etc. Our abilities or inabilities don’t excuse hurting others, and often, able bodied people use our disorders, diseases & disabilities as an excuse to not help us grow and do better. As if we aren’t human enough to be worth the effort, we’re not seen as valid. We can and will put in the work that we are capable of, and not calling us out on things we may be missing, can hinder more than help us. I’m not perfect, no one is, but I also don’t want to be treated like a child because I’m autistic with physical limitations.

I myself fell victim to a monster who was always excused from her hurtful, abusive behavior because she is disabled and uses mobility aides. I have severe trauma from a friendship that shred me down to near nothing, and the trauma only continues because I’m one of the only people to actively speak out against the person creating the trauma.

Many years ago, I was dazzled by a person who led everyone to believe they were a saint. All of their struggles were not their own, but the fault of others. Their lift wasn’t perfect, and me being far too empathic…I wanted to help. I wanted to make a difference. What I didn’t realize is that I would be taken advantage of not just by this person, but their friend group as well. My mental health (Autistic with OCD, Depression, Anxiety & Agoraphobia) was never on the table, it didn’t matter. I had to prioritize my new room mate because suddenly my needs weren’t important enough. Despite her friends being able, I was expected to drive my room mate everywhere, even when the fear of being outside, being judged was rampant. I also have damaged ankles and disc problems in my back, but was never allowed time to rest. I had become a caretaker and was only paid for 5 hours a day, because my room mate refused to be honest about how much care they actually needed. My time was no more. I had no life. I couldn’t even watch the films I loved or craved due to autistic fixation. If I wanted to watch Star Wars, they would throw a fit about all they reasons they didn’t like it, even though they had a laptop and headphones to watch their own media and preferred it that way….I couldn’t even watch what I wanted on my own television. It was like this about everything. My room mate needed complete control. I was at their beck and call. If I even tried to do things for myself, if I even broke down in any way, it would only lead to bigger problems. Screaming fits, throwing things, insulting me or my wife. Withholding rent also became a tactic of control. I had no one to vent to, no one to get helpful advice from because their friends would just excuse the behavior. I was told well you can do more than she can… so do it. Even though her friends did not have mental health issues or physical limitations, they never stepped forward. I had to drive their friend to them, drop any plans for myself to do them for her and if I even suggested I couldn’t? I was gaslit by the group of friends and their so called best friend that they couldn’t be bother to help with. It was always them telling me well you get paid to do things for them (even if my five hours a day had been devoted, I was always expected to do more and more).

It really hit a breaking point when I injured my back and ended up in the hospital, worn down and literally broken from the physically demanding and often demeaning tasks I had to do. Even in the hospital, it was more about well what about _____??? What about their needs? None of their friends stepped up, and I was expected, with herniated discs, just to be their Cinderella. I could never speak my mind, I could never say your words are hurtful, you’re verbally manipulating me, because it would only make things worse. The tension was breaking me down, I was having meltdowns on a regular basis. I was literally blacking out in sensory overload. I was turning to throwing and breaking things. My relationship was falling apart. All because I wanted to help someone who could literally get away with murder. I had too much faith that I could help them. I realized eventually that they were content to always be the victim. Always be put up on a pedestal and never held responsible for their actions. To speak against them was more horrible than the actions they did. I wasn’t myself anymore. I was just their puppet, waiting for them to pull the strings and give me command. I got to the point where I wondered if I died if they’re care If I did, or that their beloved friend didn’t have someone to drive to Disneyland just to get them a pretzel they were throwing a tantrum over. My life had no value to them, my pain, my emotional needs were just a throw away. By letting their friend get away with awful behaviors and wicked words, their own friends made them into a monster. I’ve held a lot back but in therapy I’m learning to open up about my traumas and put names to them. I’ve blocked out a lot from my time with my former room mate because it broke me down to my core, but In opening up and being honest…I’m healing too. I guess that’s what makes me and the monster different…I’m trying to grow, I’m trying to do better, and I’m trying not to be a monster myself. If I’m in the wrong, if I’m being a problematic person, I don’t want to get away with it because people want to see me as incapable of doing better.

There are times even now, where I am sucked back into the trauma of my time as their friend. Certain smells, sounds, items….they bring back horrifying memories of how I was just an object to them. I was just another mobility device — only I had my own pain, my own disabilities, my own traumas that an inanimate object doesn’t face. I can hear the nasty things they’d call me and my wife, I can see the words they’d write about me, and cringe at the whispers behind my back. They made me out to be horrible for wanting to be treated like a human, something they also longed for, yet I wasn’t worthy enough to be treated right by them. Us disabled people long for accessibility and space to be ourselves, but it should never be at the cost of any other disabilities — visible or invisible.

Just because someone uses a mobility device, it doesn’t mean they’re incapable of being abusive or manipulative. As I said before, it’s ableist to assume disabled people don’t have the capability of knowing or learning and doing better. It’s about holding people accountable.