Does a Disabled Homeless Woman Deserve Compassion? The World Doesn’t Think So.

no compassion for homeless disabled woman

Recently someone proposed this little mind exercise to me: Let’s say you found yourself on a parallel Earth, and you see your parallel self sitting alone, disabled on a park bench. You see that you look worn out and like somebody with the weight of the world on your shoulders. You look hopeless.

How would you react to that person? Would you be as brutal, self-deprecating, and harsh with them as you are with yourself?

Of course, I would never be mean to that person. I would feel sad for them. They probably ended up like this by a combination of bad luck and circumstances. I would want to give them money if I had any and a warm cup of coffee, but I would never judge them as I do myself.

My friend said, “How can you show compassion to everyone else, and you never have a shred of it for yourself? You didn’t do anything evil or criminal. You always choose to help people and put everyone else before yourself. So how can you not have any compassion for you?”

The idea of “self-love” might be great for others, but the idea of “self-love” toward myself disgusts me.

I don’t think it’s simply because I was adopted by somebody who told me every day from when I was a very young child what a worthless piece of garbage I was. I think I knew from very early on that I didn’t belong here on your planet. Many autistic adults feel like they’re on “the wrong planet,” and I’m not alone. That’s a feeling that has always been with me.

As a child, I never understood conceit or thinking highly of oneself. I never understood bragging or thinking, “I’m number one.” To me, that sounded selfish or self-centered. It felt wrong.

My life represents a lot of foolish decisions. Yes, they were morally right, but we live in a world where doing good rarely counts. I was a caregiver to Down Syndrome, elderly, and mentally challenged people (all deceased now) who I felt had needs I had to prioritize over my own. I felt it was my duty to protect them. I genuinely loved those people and choosing things that prioritize me felt wrong and selfish. So, I repeatedly cared for others first.

Then chronic illness eventually rendered me too ill to do most of the things I once did to earn a little money and destroyed any chance of pursuing my dreams. My life has descended into hell since, sinking ever deeper and ending up with more disabilities. It’s like being stuck in quicksand. The more you struggle, the more you sink.

If I were on an alternative Earth and saw myself in a quicksand pit, I’d say, “Let go. It’s okay. Just let go of the branch and sink into the abyss. It’s the best thing for us”.

That isn’t cruel. That is permitting myself release from unbearable suffering. Knowing there are no housing alternatives for persons like me, what other choice is there?

Hope is dangerous. I cannot hang on to it. It’s proven a villain, repeatedly setting me up for massive disappointment.

It’s better to have no hope and wait to die than to be hopeful that something good will happen and my life will be better than getting the rug pulled out from under me repeatedly.

This society places no value on somebody like me, and the universe hates my guts. I was an accident, and I don’t belong here. I am the result of an ignorant, unthinking teenager who thought nothing of consequences, and now her consequence (me) must pay a nightmarish price for her selfish and poor choices.

Yes, I have friends who love me. I had a loving set of grandparents by adoption, but they’re both dead now. So is my adoptive father, who loved me very much (he, too, was a victim of his mentally ill wife’s abuse).

I had good friends in this area who helped me a lot, but they’re both dead now. Most of the friends I have left are people who struggle to stay out of homelessness themselves. They cannot help me. Or they have responsibilities to others and cannot help me beyond a certain point.

However, regardless of how worthless and nightmarish my disabled existence is, it is critical to practice gratitude for the things that you do have.

So, let me say that I am grateful for my friends (though I don’t know what most of them see in me or why they bother with me). I am grateful for my column for Invisible People, which is a massive help for me on so many levels. I am very grateful for my followers, patrons, and readers who help me when needed. Having an old van that frequently requires massive, costly repairs is a burden I cannot handle, and I really would be on the street if not for the help I receive from everyone. 

I am also grateful that I’ve kept many of my favorite things and didn’t “lose it all” as many do upon becoming homeless. But I also know I will never have a home to put those things from storage into. Luckily my storage rent is low. At least I can sit there and find stuff I need or want to see. That’s more than many can say. I am grateful for many good people and things in my life. 

But in the end, I am trapped in this cruel, malevolent universe like a caged animal. Every day I think, “You stupid jackass! You fool!” I beat myself up for all my mistakes and missteps.

No, I never used drugs or alcohol and suffered addiction, so I can’t attribute my current situation to anything of that nature. I made dumb choices and trusted people I shouldn’t have because I was naive. I put everyone else first and had no plan to safeguard my situation.

If I were in Canada, I’d petition for MAID track 2 at this point. I could be humanely put to death, as people have a pet put to sleep by a veterinarian. I recently read about a lady in Canada just like me who was granted euthanasia because no one could find her affordable housing appropriate for her medical needs. Yes, humanity has sunk that low. It’s easier to kill us than to house us.

However, decent people become homeless by no fault of their own, don’t wish to die, and don’t deserve this endless punishment. So, for them, I save all my compassion and loving heart. I wish there could be a solution to the tragedy of homelessness and the unimaginable suffering so many homeless must endure. 


Homeless Loki

Homeless Loki

  

Homeless Loki is a disabled homeless person also on the autism spectrum currently homeless in upstate New York

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