Disabled Joy

Hey, look, I know you were a bit confused the other day when I said that I’m happier now as a disabled person than I ever was when I was relatively not disabled. And I get why. 

I know to a lot of people disability is kind of like the worst thing that could happen to them, apart from maybe death. Like disability is, kind of like the opposite of happiness. 

I certainly thought that at one point, I mean like even the fucking Dalai Lama seems to think that good health is a prerequisite for happiness and fulfilment. 

But you know, that just hasn’t been my experience. 

There is disabled joy. 

[vocalised singing in harmony starts]

Disabled Joy is laying in bed, body too weak to move, and not pushing against it, not trying to get up, not thinking about getting up. 

Thinking instead, what would be fulfilling for me to do here as I lay down and give my body the rest that it needs. 

Maybe I draw, maybe I paint, maybe I write to somebody I love. 

Ahhhhhh… [vocalising] 

Disabled joy is feeling rage at the way your joints burn and burn. 

And not speaking words or thinking words of hate at a body that is trying so hard. 

But instead asking the rage, how may I serve you? 

How can I empower you? 

What do you need? 

What can we do here? 

While we burn. 

Disabled Joy… [scatting]

Boing boing boing boing boing [laughter] 

Disabled joy is a practice, it’s a way of thinking, a way of living, so distinct from that more fickle kind of joy I was raised with. 

It’s made up of these milestones that you may or may not reach like marriage or promotion. Disabled joy does not wait. 

It is a practice of kindness to each and every part of yourself. 

And I’m so lucky because being disabled means that I will likely live more years of joy than I would have had I not been disabled. 

Disabled, disabled joy… [scatting & vocalising] 

Deebedee, toot toot, quack, quack. Toot. [laughter]