Disability abuse occurs when those with disabilities are abused physically, financially, verbally or mentally due to the person having a disability. As many disabilities are not visible (for example, asthma, learning disabilities) some abusers cannot rationalize the non-physical disability with a need for understanding, support, and so on. Scattered Addition To This Post [Unedited]: Carol M. commented publically below. I feel a response garners an opportune time and as a topic to run with suiting well as my morning writing session, which I have done most days if not every day for 25 some odd years, a great deal of which keeps me going, alive, and thriving the best I am able. I seldom if ever get writer's block but I'd like to reply though tossing and turning in various random directions but within this now-edited addition to the original post regarding the definition of disability abuse. It has taken me over an hour to write and without my editor, and I would endeavor to think my reply might suit to attach to this post. I believe disability abuse runs rampant in al parts of the world. It is a shame, and almost inevitable. In advance, a note that one of my eyes has become blind recently and tardive dyskinesia in my fingers leave me little ability to type or think straight. I apologize for typos. I have recently been copying and pasting archived posts, old and new (book reviews, etc.,) or just keeping my posts short and sweet, as if on Twitter … But, same here. Disability abuse seems impossible to prove. Having schizophrenia and, therefore, delusional thoughts make it impossible for anybody, from doctors, family, to lawyers (those who matter most) to believe our truths. Having schizophrenia, bipolar disorder (schizoaffective), borderline personality disorder, and PTSD primarily makes me unreliable, in many ways, or, at least, seem to. Nobody believes our truths. I detail this in some of my literature but nonetheless, that is the bottom line. I can't say much more due to this being a public page but I believe we are, or rather I'll speak for myself, that I am alone in this disability abuse, a victim of it, by many, if not most in my life here in "real" life. It becomes a never-ending hell if you will. Thank you for writing in recently Carol. To all of you who do so for that matter. I learn so much from you. I see a mirror or reflection of myself, sometimes with or without mental illness necessarily being involved. Universally, I believe we sail the same ship. Mental illness brings our human vulnerabilities, on another level. I'm compelled to mention this month's best-selling book by a landslide, Lover in the Nobody, the psycho-sexual thriller, and though not on Amazon, but in the literary magazines, the standalone novel has been reviewed again, by far my most well-written and praised work or the written word. It was the only novel I had outlined. The rest of the literature I write. I do not usually define the outer edges of my writing prior, as one reviewer of The Brutal Truth noted on February 10th, 2016, that all thoughts remain in print, therefore in his words "dazzling," unique, etc. Wishing more and more of you might read what I write professionally. It is quite difficult to sell the heavy duty literature I tend to write, often challenging reading, confusing and explicitly sexual, but not to promote my writing as much all of which one can be find by a simple Google search, or on http://www.Alibiography.com/After all, as I bring up now and then this page is by its description and intention an author site. It has just turned into something greater, better. At the same time, of course, I'd like to sell my books though it becomes uncomfortable at times to promote my work. One last note on this flight of idea and stream of thought part that I wish I could post directly from y books further but one of my primary occupations and source of income is as an author and, of course, I would like to sell my work, have it read, and gain exposure. I believe that I am reasonable. I can excerpt parts here and there but cannot publish what is otherwise already online as to my contracts for the 13 novels I have written since 2014 averaging 1,200 pages each, 2,500 pages in manuscript format. And Carol, or any of you, had you written, or do any of you, correctly that you, too, if I recall struggle with schizophrenia? Forgive me if I am mistaken or if you wish your diagnosis remain private. Please forgive me as I cannot write back or respond to everybody here on this page. Many messages come through each day. I would like to talk, or chat with so many of you, for the most part, although I not at liberty to keep a thought together much less communicate effectively, especially during the difficult times I endure lately, mainly interpersonally. I appreciate everyone's comments and communication. I tend not to be much of a people person, and might I add, I would think my writing reads clearer than my speech, pressured and flighty and remains difficult for me to chat candidly back and forth, I laugh, but without an editor. In other words, it is incredibly difficult for me to put my thoughts together. Thank you once again. My psychiatrist is considering once again hospitalizing me. I have got to admit it has been hell here where I live. But I move ahead the best I can as usual. It can become so severe, especially with a rather unattractive prognosis, meaning the symptoms of my schizophrenia have become treatment resistant, and I am not a candidate for Clozaril. This illness or a combination of them has been incredibly difficult as time goes on, and I understand it not easy for anybody involved even those who I feel abuse me. Mental illness, though I may laugh at it sometimes to cope, it does remain especially interpersonally extremely challenging, for all involved. I do, I feel so alone, not to seek pity or that I should "look to God, or Jesus," as so many write me, it is just a beast. I write a bit of a long session be it that it reads while written in haste, frustration, and agitation, for I have to get to work (online, overseas) my psychiatrist is under the overall impression and belief that my entire life is a delusion, one hallucination after another. Thus, the 800+ page Alibiography I wrote in 2014. I'd better leave it at that. But I had not yet written out my morning writing session yet, so this may suffice as such. Somebody commented that we "should all talk to one another to not feel so alone." I agree, perhaps it just gets confusing since I suppose with schizophrenia, every synapse in the brain misfires, and stress, lack of sleep, and so forth exacerbate everything. My thesis in this though perhaps not all too clear is that as my therapist and I try twice a week, with little result but some, interpersonal relationships become beyond chaotic. I treat others badly. I have rage attacks. It makes me violent. I have never hurt any person or animal, etc., in my life. My personal items primarily electronics I own (I can laugh at this currently because I do not believe this right now) ... I occasionally become under the impression that "demons" infest my cell phone and computers, etc., ugh, my apologies for writing this out certainly scattered the early morning, but at least, I could put some word on paper. I wish I had the capacity to write more essays on this page, but my illness prevents me. A scattered thought again, I know, but again schizophrenia to me equals chaos without much opportunity for help. We all have just to do our best and conform to conventional reality and people's "reasonable" beliefs, and roll with the reality to which we or I don not even subscribe. That is all for now. I likely need a bit of a break, and rest, also, sleep. My apologies for my diatribe, but it sure felt good to get out, as I have so many thought sin my head competing with one another causing an overload. So I pause, take a break, and begin again. Big day for me, later on, with a tremendous amount of stressful interactions I am trying to avoid, as I have liked myself in my office for a week now, with doors locked and curtains closed paranoia? Sure, a safety mechanism. Ugh. Does any of this resonate? I feel so off my game. I have got to vent for a second: Just for right now, I hate my life. Right now, I maintain zero appreciation for it. Postscript: We are not alone. I can see that now, for some odd reason! Hope you enjoy the day!
