the oxygen

being physically sick when you have mental illness is so odd because i am positive, always, that people will treat me the same way. i assume i’m not bad, because others have been worse, i tell very few people, i apologize for the inconvenience. i say of diagnosed illnesses: i’m faking it. it’s not bad. i don’t want to be annoying.

and it is strange to me. i get tired quickly because my lungs aren’t working - people go out of their way to help me, let me sit down, tell me not to worry. i get tired because my brain isn’t working - people ask why i’m being difficult, why i can’t just drink a coffee. 

i cough and i wheeze and people fawn over me. they offer me cough drops, they pull tissues from sleeves. when i stop eating and showering i’m being selfish, i’m lazy. i apologize for not wanting to go to the party, i’m on antibiotics and can’t drink; i’m told they’ll miss me, i get people staying home with me. i apologize for not wanting to go to the party, i’m spiraling and drinking wouldn’t be good for me; i’m told to relax and stop taking things seriously.

i show up to work wheezing. my lungs sound like a door creaking. i am shooed home, told to take off all the time i need. i never tell my boss i have ocd and am sometimes late for counting. admitting this seems personal, embarrassing. when i am having a bad day, i show up to work and people ask why i’m being so distant. so annoying. they drop their voice when they say depression but bring me green tea to help my breathing.

people ask if i’m feeling better. they fuss over me. they ask if they can bring soup, do anything. 

people ignore it. they ask if i’m over it yet. they tell me it’s a phase, it’s passing. they say they were sad once, it’s not serious, and i should stop making everything about me.

i don’t let people take care of me. i don’t know how. i don’t trust them. in my life, when i am bad, they leave. when my body is failing, i assume the same thing. 

i’m sorry i’m difficult. i just don’t understand people trying.

soul magnets.

Okay unpopular opinion time.

As somebody who knows a blind-from-birth person, it’s kinda pissing me off that people are acting like the Doctor going blind is tragic. It might suck for him for awhile because he’s not used to living that way, but ffs if he’s taught how to do things the blind way as opposed to the sighted way and borrowed other people to be his eyes when vision is necessary then not much would have to change.

If the Doctor can memorize a map in a few seconds, I doubt it’d take him long to learn just about every form of Braille or raised reading material for blind people all over the universe.

Imagine if the TARDIS made him a sonic white cane that could do all the cool stuff his sonic screwdriver could do and more. Imagine it having a “homing” signal where the cane will gently tug him back to the TARDIS if there’s danger or if he gets ‘lost’ on an adventure. (And imagine him having to resist it and be all “be quiet, you!”)

Disability doesn’t have to be tragic, y’all.

–posted by an autistic person who headcanons the Doctor as autistic.