Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".
Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"
And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".
Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.
At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.
So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!
Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!
Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!
Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.
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he says i hate everyone except you and that is addictive and that is kind of romantic and beautiful because you're young and you're kind of a sarcastic asshole too and you don't like bad boys, per say, but you don't really like good ones either. and you like that you were the exception, it felt like winning.
except life is not a romance book, and he was kind of being honest. he doesn't learn to be nice to your friends. he only tolerates your family. you have to beg him to come with you to birthday parties, he complains the whole time. you want to go on a date but - people are often there, wherever you're going. he's just so angry. about everything, is the thing. in the romance book, doesn't he eventually soften? can't you teach him, through your own sense of whimsy and comfort?
at first - you know introverts often need smaller friend groups, and honestly, you're fine staying at home too. you like the small, tidy life you occupy. you're not going to punish him for his personality type.
except: he really does hate everyone but you. which means he doesn't get along with his therapist. which means he has no one to talk to except for you. which means you take care of him constantly, since he otherwise has no one. which means you sometimes have to apologize for him. which means he keeps you home from seeing your friends because he hates them. you're the single exception.
about a decade from this experience, you'll type into google: how to know if a relationship is codependent.
he wraps an arm around you. i hate everyone except you. these days, you're learning what he's actually confessing is i have very little practice being kind.
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u guys keep forgetting they are bitchy. the divorce is not gonna look like crowley trashing the bookshop or anything like that but it is gonna look like crowley reserving all the tables at the ritz for the day he knows aziraphale is going to be in town. aziraphale ordering angels to make it cloudy during an eclipse. crowley starting a bidding war over a prophecy book aziraphale wants. aziraphale undoing crowley’s miracle block on parking ticket officials. crowley ordering a cleaning service to the bookshop. aziraphale putting crowley’s apartament on mormon missionary’s lists. crowley and aziraphale separately bitching about the other to any human they coming into contact with and then being shocked when the human asks how long they had been with their ex. both of them religiously checking each other’s locations.
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— YOUR LOVE.
(Alhaitham x Reader)
Your love was as passionate as the golden light shining through the open windows as you and your lover both lovingly look at each other in the morning. It was like this every single day. No amount of anger, fights, and pettiness could dissolve such wondrous moment from both of your life. You loved him, and he did too. He alone believed that it was an unbreakable fact.
He also remembered how much you loved every other little things in the world. The way your eyes would shine brightly at the sight of a cat. Your cat, to be exact. You always said that its grey fur reminded you of him, even the cat's stoic-like personality was similar to him as well. It was funny, really. He never liked it when people speak nonsense, just like what you did then, but oh boy, did he fell deeper in love with you after you said that. It was truly funny. Love had always been such a foreign concept, yet he tried to learn it as best as he could. He wanted to love you as much as you do to him. But with you now gone, who will be the one to teach him?
He can't let another have a go through his heart. You were already enough. It was only you who could fill that empty abyss of a heart. Knowing that there was no way of bringing you back, he fell into a lonely road of remembrance. He missed you all too well. He missed you every time his consciousness returned after being woken up from his slumber. He missed you. Your warm embrace was now left with him only trying to gain warmth from the sun's light.
From the start of the morning till the end of the moon shining, he missed you. It was just you, you, and you in his mind.
You just loved too much, and it hurts him. The blues, the greens, the greys, and even him. He, who you said was one of the most insufferable men that you've known, was loved by such a charming person. He was loved by none other than you. So, with you now gone, he couldn't quite imagine how hard the pain would inflict itself on him. Ironically enough, it went beyond the imagined.
Maybe that was why he stayed coop up inside his house after the announcement of your death. Maybe that was why all the mirrors inside his house was thrown away into the storage room. Maybe that was why he couldn't look at himself normally anymore. He, himself, reminded him of you. The way you would always compliment his cat-like eyes, his grey hair, and his cold yet warm approach made him stayed in that particular past—not wanting to move into a future where you did not exist. He did not want to exist.
All he wanted now was to be by your side, yet that was impossible. After all, he promised you. He promised to live well, even if you were gone now.
"I tried to live as best as I could, love, but it's hard. With you gone, I feel like the whole world has stopped working too. It was all too sudden, and I was forced to try and accept it. But, I just can't. Now, I'm sitting here on our old couch, looking through the window as the light of the sun hits me once again. Yet, there's something missing. After looking around, i found the problem. It's you, my dear. You are not in my arms, and it pains me to realise that. I cannot live without you, but you made me promise that exact reality. I have to go on living in this pathetic world with you not in it. Ah... I miss you, love, and I miss your love."
- Alhaitham, your beloved.
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you were raised in comparison.
it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.
you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.
you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.
what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.
it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.
you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.
you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?
a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.
you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.
it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.
something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.
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