Why You Shouldn't Place One Disability Over Another: On Disability Hierarchy

Recently, I told someone that I have never been able to tell time, despite trying hard for many years. Despite the fact that this person knew about my severe dyscalculia (math-based learning disability), she seemed shocked. I told her it was like getting myself dressed: occupational therapists tried to get me to the point where I could dress myself at least semi-independently, but it was too hard. Math teachers did the same thing with being able to tell time.

"Yes, but telling time is easy!" she said, wondering why I could never seem to be able to tell the time. This person who told me that telling time is easy has known how math has been immensely difficult for me ever since kindergarten. They had known how hard it used to be when I was in first and second grade to remember facts like 2 + 2 = 4 and 3 + 3 = 6. THey know how hard it was for me to pass my standardized state math testing for Massachusetts and even after a year of studying for this testing, I only passed it by one point. This person knew how much individualized attention I needed in regards to the portion of my education that had to do with math and they still didn't acknowledge that a simple task having to do with math was hard for me, even when they knew I had a disability that impaired these skills, even when people tried to teach me several times. Yet, this person knew that something so simple would be so difficult for me in regards to one of my other disabilities and didn't even question it.

(From andrewcampbell.com. This picture explains how I felt in math class growing up)

To me, having a disability means that a person has difficulty with one or more simple, everyday tasks that other people their own age can do perfectly fine due to any sort of chronic condition.

Can most young adults dress themselves? Yes.

Can most young adults make themselves food? Yes.

Can most young adults complete basic hygiene tasks? Yes.

I could go on...

Can I do those things?
No.
Why not?
Because I have cerebral palsy.

People acknowledge that.

Can most young adults read an analog clock if they were taught how to in school? Yes.
Do most young adults know what certain coins look like? Yes.
Can most young adults remember basic times tables? Yes.
Do most young adults pass state-required standardized testing without having to study? Yes.

Can I do those things?
No, not easily, or only with a great amount of effort?
Why?
Because I have dyscalculia.

For the most part, I feel like people don't acknowledge this. They also don't seem to acknowledge this within the concept of treatment for mental illnesses either. I share with some people in my life that I have mental health conditions. I have been on medication for this and have been seeing psychotherapists once a week for the past several years to manage and cope with these issues. But are they gone? No. Have I relapsed? Yes. Is relapsing to be expected? Yes. Is it still hard? Yes. But people still assume I'm "cured." However, I also take medication and go to physical therapy to manage my CP symptoms, as well as getting Botox injections. But people don't assume that CP is omitted from my life when treated. This is contrasted with my learning disabilities and mental illnesses.

 People assume that disabilities that affect the way a person thinks and processes certain types of information are more likely to be resolved, cured, and managed than that of physical disabilities. As someone with disabilities that affect my mobility, learning, and mental health, I can easily say that this is the case. Do not put one disability over another. Do not forget about any of them. Disability is a greatly intersectional experience and just because some are visible and some are not does not mean that the invisible ones take less of an influence necessarily

Good Days v. Bad Days

There is a concept in the disability community about Good Days v. Bad Days. I have cerebral palsy, which is considered a non-progressive disorder, meaning that my condition doesn't get worse over time. Because CP is considered to be non-progressive, people often assume that I have the exact same level of functioning all the time. However, this is not necessarily the case. "Good Days" are days where perhaps, for whatever reason, I may be less spastic than usual or less tired than usual. This would possibly make it easier for me to complete certain motor tasks that I'm not normally able to complete or I may do them more efficiently due to improved motor planning skills after a physical therapy session for example. I may also have "Bad Days" where my level of functioning is worse than normal. I may be more spastic and therefore, it may be harder for me to do motor tasks that I am normally able to do. And then of course, I have baseline days. Saying things like, "Why can't you do that all the time?" or my personal favorite of, "I've seen you do that before. You can do that." is insulting to disabled people because it gives the impression that able-bodied people think we're not capable of assessing our own levels of functioning. Don't be angry at us for having good days and bad days. After all, doesn't everyone have good days and bad days in their own unique way?

Found on "The Psychology Babies" Facebook page.

“Do Not Punish the Behaviour You Want to See.” Tumblr, 28 Jan. 2018, olofahere.tumblr.com/post/170223372038/do-not-punish-the-behaviour-you-want-to-see.