Okay so this might take a while to get to the point, but I want to give you some examples of what’s been going on with me lately, and then I’ll explain why seemingly small things are actually fucking massive, to someone who is emotionally disabled by PTSD due to trauma from childhood sexual abuse. Without, I might add, getting into what happened to me, I’ve done that 859 times on this website.

Every morning I order 2 Large Iced Coffees from McDonald’s – not healthy but it’s my summer morning routine and treats for a lot of emotional labour it takes to repair the damage of years of abuse. Maybe not a huge deal to you, but massive to me, because of the ROUTINE of ordering the coffee, getting the coffee, smoking my medicine, and then being able to work on this blog or my other writing projects throughout the fucking day.

Now for most of you, this isn’t a big deal. Most of you can afford therapy however, I cannot. I can afford 2 cups of coffee every day for about $16.00 a day, which to most people would allow me to afford therapy right?

That adds up to $480 per month, so yes, money for therapy. However. I’m not the one who buys those coffees, someone else does that for me, and whether YOU like it or not, those coffees help keep me sane. Lately, they have been showing up without ice, with cream, and often warm – this being said, I’ve spoken to the Mc D’s in question and explained that while it’s not a big deal to THEM, it’s huge to me, because it’s part of the routine that keeps me sane during the day.

Just now (or yesterday to you reading this,) we ordered dinner. Lasagna for mom, and soup and salad for me at $41.00. I ordered specifically a green salad, with my favourite dressing, and my onion soup without bread or cheese. They sent Greek salad. Yum say you, death I say me.

So I call to correct the mistake and she tells me they’ll send a new one. Then she calls back and says “The kitchen says we sent you green,” and I respond with “okay so cool. I spent $41.00 to buy a pile of pasta and meat, (I said lasagna) from you, a bowl of soup and a salad that will have me throwing up five minutes after I eat it.”

So of course that was rude, but I was pissed off, like bitch I’m NOT LYING, I’m telling you “this is what I ordered, and you’re LITERALLY making me explain why I CANNOT EAT WHAT YOU SENT WHEN THAT WASN’T WHAT I FUCKING ORDERED.

I order specific food according to what my stomach can handle – I do not eat a lot of cheeseburgers, it’s VERY rare to see me eat a burger because I really don’t enjoy eating meat. That’s why when we order from THIS restaurant I always ALWAYS order soup and salad and have never one time ordered anything different.

Why am I using caps? On behalf of disabled folks everywhere who go somewhere with their small few amounts of dollars to order something that will make them feel better when we already feel like shit.

And then we have to justify not only YOU making a mistake, but then our need for YOU to correct the mistake YOU made, and you think you can bully us into going with what YOU say because if YOU say it then it must be true but if WE say it we’re lying.

How many of you are nurses? How many years have we heard how hard it is? And is it hard being a nurse? Absofuckinglutely. I know this because my sister-in-law is a nurse, she’s also a woman who gave birth twice while fighting cancer. Amazing woman, badass woman. Truly a great human, but still a nurse who doesn’t get paid enough to do a really shitty job.

The problem with this whole #FrontLineWorker bullshit, and it is bullshit, is that y’all already know what it’s like to be poor, hungry, sad, depressed, miserable, so why the fuck are you pouring that shit onto the same people who come to you for help?

Whether it’s a meal, or it’s nursing staff rolling their eyes at patients, it’s hard to understand why anyone would support you when, when we come into your spaces, you make us feel worse than when we came in in the first fucking place.

The last time (as in last weekend) I was in the hospital I FINALLY AFTER 39 FUCKING YEARS, found a Doctor who heard me when I said “I’ve been sexually assaulted my whole life and now I’m being stalked and harassed while being ignored by those who should hear me.” And all it took was for me to ask him point blank “if your daughter said she was being stalked, would you hospitalize her?” He responded with “No.” Before leaving the room.

There are things that people are going through, that you know NOTHING about, so if your job is to be of service, no matter how shitty you feel, it’s also NOT your job, to make those around you feel worse.

I get you’re tired, I get you’re angry, I get you’re hungry, living in poverty and not overly concerned about what I need as a patron or as a patient, but what I ALSO get is that I’m actually on your side…why aren’t you on mine?

Sending all my love,

Devon J Hall

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