It was encouraging in a way when my therapist recently referred to me as disabled. It legitimizes my struggle to work, to be productive, and relieved some of my crazy anxiety about all that. On the other hand, it reinforces the idea that I am not normal, that I am fundamentally flawed as I have always feared.
I guess the task here is to reassess what flawed means and to reassess what success means; what acceptable, what worth is. So the hope is not in me meeting a certain notion of worthiness, of success, of productivity, of acceptability—but to reconfigure what I mean deep-seated worth to be. A reconfiguring where I fit completely inside. It is not a shift of convenience, you know, redefining laziness or apathy as success, but somehow finding a different currency of worth all together.
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