I love these writing prompts.
They make you think, which is great if you’re trying to wind down, or can’t sleep at midnight.
I guess that one good thing about losing most of my health and family, is that I’ve learned compassion for others.
I have a couple of good neighbors I’d call friends who’ve never really been touched by major sickness or disability.
Nice people? Yes.
Patient with things like depression or sadness? No, at least not with my depression or sadness.
I know someone who’s so privileged. Her health is great. No disabilities. She lives an active life with her husband and kids, none of whom suffer any health issues.
I once tried to tell this person about my circle of friends.
All the people I know well are blind from birth. They’re also bipolar, have schizzophrenia, borderline personality disorder, and cerebral palsy.
This privileged person snapped “Aren’t you grateful about anything?” Slapped me down verbally.
I hadn’t been belligerent or upset. I was just talking about my homeys, and I got treated like a twelve-year-old coming home from Christian camp.
This person is less than seven years older than me, and she still treats me like one of her kids. Apparently, she seesnothing wrong about this.
I didn’t get the chance to tell her about how God was being good to my homeys who are blind+. Blind plus.
I didn’t get the chance because this privileged Karen (not her real name), can’t handle anything.
I and my friends frequently show compassion and empathy if one of us is in hospital, having a bipolar or psychotic episode, and generally don’t feel that life is lollipops and rainbows.
That’s what Disney and Star Trek do for me. They’re my lollipops and rainbows.
I know this life will be hard. I’ve been schooled.
I can get a temporary escape from the entertainers I love, and from cannabis.
So, if a refugee from Gaza, who has suffered unimaginable degradation should move in next door to me, I wouldn’t slap them back, because I don’t think of disabled or traumatized people as children, for me to chasten and control.
If they wanted to describe their experiences to me, I know what it’s like to be “Karen’d”. I wouldn’t do it to someone else.
It’s made me more compassionate, less narrow-minded. I think a lot of people’s problem is they have it too frigging easy. Their problem is their privilege.
I’d shut up and listen, and thank God that I didn’t go through that.
1 Tactile Writer 