100 x 35

Post #100. A full circle has closed. My youth years are almost gone, and I have barely lived them. What I did live was a complete fail in my attempts to keep up. Whenever I was able to accomplish something, others were already miles ahead. The constant need to catch up, and the frequent need to stop because something inside broke along the way. There was always something on the way. It has obviously kept me consistently behind. Simple. Logic.

I must have been too stupid to have chosen this situation as my worst nightmare. Being economically nonviable at 35 And it's coming true, day after day. It's also true that this is hardly a privilege of mine. Situation is identical for millions of other people.Is that why I have to accept it?

How can someone tell me that, as if this was OK? That I should accept to be treated as inferior? Why is that too easy and common for able bodied healthy people to tell me I should settle for less because I'm disabled? Especially knowing, because of disability, I actually need more to have dignity? If this is a matter of merit, it should actually be the other way around (not that this makes any difference).

These people won't probably know the right answer. But the reason why I need to agree to be considered inferior is to preserve a bit of mental health. That's the only key to reestablish logic, I know! But then, how can I look at myself in the damn mirror and like what I see? How can I look forward to what's coming up in life, if it's just a bit more delay? Everyday I'm asked to reconcile the impossible: self-esteem and inferiority.

In Vassily Grosmann's book "Life and destiny", an old Jewish doctor describes the odd experience to move to the ghetto in 40's Russia. On one hand, being fenced like cattle to the old city made it official that Jews were then considered inferior, third class. In the ghetto, they were deprived of their freedom, and constant rumors suggested their time in the face of the Earth could be over very soon.

But despite an apparently gloomy experience, this old lady doctor would describe it as relieving. Because despite being in bad shape, with little food, and expecting to get killed for no reason, in the ghetto she didn't feel alone. Although life conditions were bad, against all the odds, it actually felt good, to the extent of possible.

My case is exactly the opposite. Being surrounded by able bodied everywhere, in this semi-inclusive settings, although still not economically viable, gives me better objective conditions in life. If I wasn't inside at all, I'd probably be making even less money. And I'd probably suffer even more from being insufficiently productive at the prime time of my life.

But I wouldn't have to deal with being treated as inferior, which could actually have a great effect on my well-being. Again, this doesn't change a thing. What it might do, eventually, is allow me to forgive myself more fully for miserably failing at mission impossible.

Post #99

For quite some time I've thought I had stuff figured out. From a strictly concrete point of view, maybe I do. But there are some structures in my being which still bring old days fragility. Full insertion and inclusion, which was supposed to be my life control dashboard hasn't happen. Consciously I know this is a given. And it has mostly to do with others. My interaction with the outer world.

I'm in the best shape of my life, personally or professionally. However, there's still this fear everything can suddenly collapse, while I lose the little control over my existence I thought I had. It's fairly easy for me to understand the origins of all this. Contrary to the feelings I've been experiencing since my grandmother died, they make sense. At the same time a part of me keeps protesting, feeling ashamed for not being the man I could have been with no disability.

There's an obsession in me that seems connected to this desire to redo the past. To overcome. This isn't necessarily something bad, unless it clearly undermines the foundations I've created to be able to build myself as a person. Some signals from the environment just trigger this irrational emotional response, so strong and overwhelming that all my strength suddenly disappears, and there's just a repeating voice telling me to give up.