This isn’t some proud battle cry. It seems to be the motto of the powers that be.

These are the things that exist when you become disabled. You spend well over a year trying to survive on what scraps you can gather together. You compare yourself with how you used to be. You want to get back to work and regain some semblance of normalcy. Except you can’t.

Find more of my eclectic work at Neurodivergent Writer