disability | betsybeadhead

Maybe I’m missing something, but I’m not sure why I should have to go to work to pay for someone else to not have to go to work.

I get it if they are legitimately disabled. That is what the system is for. If you are physically or mentally too ill to work, the system is in place so that you won’t starve or lose your home.

I’m not talking about that.

I see no reason why I have to keep someone living “at the lifestyle to which they have become accustomed” when I didn’t marry them. I see no reason why I have to support someone that I didn’t give birth to. If I wanted dependents, I would have had children.

Some people seem to think that they are just sticking it to the government when they get a disability check or food stamps. They aren’t. They are sticking it to the taxpayers. They are sticking it to me.

The government gets its money from taxes. It takes from the poor to give to the poor. The rich have figured a way around this.

So I figure this means that people who are getting money from the government are my employees. They are getting paid by me. But where is the work? What are they doing to earn that money?

This isn’t a very nice way to think, I know.

But I also don’t like it when a perfectly able person is standing in front of me, trying to find their library card in their wallet, and I see the “EBT” card. This is the modern version of “food stamps”. They aren’t disabled.

I knew a guy who was really upset that his wife didn’t qualify for disability. She was mentally ill. She had multiple personality disorder, admittedly because of all the LSD she had done. However, she was well enough to run her own acting company… and he made enough money selling real estate that they were able to build their own house. Their dining room alone had more square footage than a three car garage.

But he still thought she should get disability checks.

I know people who think they should get disability payments for having migraines. Yet they refuse to get enough sleep and take their medicine.

I knew a guy who said he should be on disability because he couldn’t stand for long periods of time. Yet he walked for miles for exercise. He walked five miles from his apartment to the post office one day. He regularly walks the two miles from his apartment to the library. He carries a cane for show – it never touches the ground. But he thinks he should be on disability.

I’ve just recently heard of a guy whose wife left him. He was getting Social Security benefits based on her income. She has a serious medical disorder, but she was the only one employed. He has three cats, and makes sure they are fed. Very little is left over for his food. He also got fired from his last job for yelling at his boss.

So why should I pay for his bad choices? Why should I go to work so he doesn’t have to?

Part of being an adult is taking care of yourself. Why should I pay for a dependant that I didn’t create?

I opened a big heavy door last night. Behind the door was a tiny woman in a large wheelchair. I felt instantly that there was no way she could have opened that door on her own – her size alone would have made it difficult. Being in a wheelchair would make it near impossible. She looked like she had been waiting there a long time.

I asked her if I could open the door for her. A simple thing, and compassionate, I thought. I was trying to think of her needs.

She looked down her nose at me and said “I’m not a cripple.”

I was stunned. I felt as if I’d been slapped. Chastised. I hadn’t said or implied anything of the sort. I stammered that I open doors for everyone. I got nothing but a glare from her.

Storming down the hallway towards me was her male companion. He was very large – sci-fi convention large, and similarly hairy. He was rushing towards us, explaining something about how she isn’t a cripple, or doesn’t want help, or something like that. I got the impression that he has to excuse/explain her interactions with well-meaning strangers all the time.

I was speechless. I walked away, away from them, away from their issues, away from their backstory.

I wasn’t feeling very compassionate right then.

My thought when I walked away was a reply to “I’m not a cripple.” was to say, “OK, but you are a bitch.”

Perhaps she doesn’t want people to feel sorry for her. Perhaps she doesn’t want people to treat her differently. Perhaps she has a lot of baggage to this backstory, more baggage than can be accommodated on the average airplane.

But there has to be some word here. Something I’m missing to help unlock this. I open doors for everyone. For her to assume that I’m being, what? Condescending? Demeaning? Belittling? To her that is rude. It is like reverse racism where someone assumes that I’m going to treat them badly because I’m not the same race as them.

It is like being snapped at by a dog when you offer it food. She isn’t a dog, of course. But her behavior isn’t very human or humane.

I’m missing a word here that would explain this, that would define it. Perhaps a word doesn’t exist. Perhaps if I sketch out the shape around the word, it will fill itself in.

It makes me want to not offer to open doors for anyone, especially someone in a wheelchair. But then they may think that I’m being thoughtless and self centered.

I’m sorry for her, but not for her physical disability but for her emotional one.

And I know that feeling sorry for someone isn’t helpful, or compassionate, or desired. In a way, I wish I’d had more time to get to understand where she is coming from, but I don’t think she is in a place where she is going to share that. And I have to remember not to categorize every other person in a wheelchair the same way – they might not feel the same as she does, and they might appreciate someone being thoughtful.

Or – they might feel the same way. This will have to be played out on a case by case basis. I never want to offend, or to upset. I want to help. If my helping causes harm, I need to stop. More mediation, more prayer, and more writing will help me know more of this. I know that acting from a place of love is always a good start. It is hard to stand in that place when it is attacked. I want to learn from this. But I’m also concerned that this one bad interaction will cause me to stop, cause me to fear, cause me to be afraid that I’m going to get yelled at.

I want to open doors, but not if that steps on toes.