disability in a post-Darwinian world

In class the other day, we had an extremely interesting discussion surrounding notions of disability. We were speaking about the International Classification of Functioning, Disability, and Health (ICF) which was implemented by the World Health Organization. We discussed the implications of this new understanding of disability, particularly its implications for occupational therapists. The ICF characterizes the notion of disability as fluid. One's level of disability/ability is determined by one's functional ability, which is in turn determined by various factors, such as impairments, environment, and personal factors like resilience. A consequence of this model of thinking is that the notion of 'ability' is much more nuanced and dynamic than conventional black-and-white characterizations of 'abled' vs. 'disabled.'

This spurred a more general discussion about what it means to be 'disabled' vs 'abled'. The class seemed to agree that there is a spectrum of ability on which everyone occupies a space. This got me thinking about whether or not there is a dividing line between abled and disabled. If everyone is on a spectrum, does that not imply that there is no 'disabled' and no 'abled'? Is there no dividing line? I raised my hand in class and spoke up about my discomfort with that notion. 

I felt somewhat insensitive saying what I said, and disclaimed that fact before carrying on, and made sure to acknowledge my privilege as an able-bodied and cognitively-able person. I said that perhaps our notions of disability are based around notions of what a body is 'supposed' to be able to do, from an evolutionary standpoint. Another student picked up the discussion and added that, while she agreed, she felt that society has moved beyond the point where we mark wellness by what our bodies and minds are 'supposed' to be, from an evolutionary standpoint. I agreed with her, saying that I myself would not be around were it not for the advent of modern medical technology. I added that I believe we are in a post-Darwinian world, in which human evolution has come to incorporate technology, assistive devices, and medicine.

I believe that the notion of disability from a Darwinian standpoint still exists - as in, one is considered disabled if one's body or mind does not function in the way that a completely healthy individual's body or mind would function. However, given that we live in a world where assistive technology and medication is the norm, perhaps such a notion of disability is no longer appropriate. However, something inside of me still wants to classify disability in terms of comparing it to a completely healthy individual. But how many of us are actually completely healthy? Where does one draw the line? Does a line need to be drawn?

After that discussion our class had the opportunity to hear three individuals with varying disabilities speak about their experiences. I learned so much from their presentations. One of the presenters was asked about her specific diagnosis, and she answered the question, but first shared that she did not think it mattered. 

This is something that I will carry into my practice - in reality, it does not matter what someone's disability is on paper. What matters is their level of function and their ability to participate in meaningful activities and enjoy life. Rather than classifying people into categories of disabled vs. abled, perhaps we can think more in terms of one's ability to live a meaningful life. Perhaps the label of disabled vs. abled matters less than I thought it did. 

I welcome conversation/debate on this topic. I especially am interested in hearing the opinions of people who identify as disabled/differently-abled. 

don't fall asleep

So school is very busy. And it will only get busier. For the most part I am deeply enjoying what I am studying. And it is very invigorating to be around so many bright young people.

Everyone I talk to about the issue says that I am getting closer to achieving my dreams. They tell me to keep working hard and keep believing that I can. Yet I can't help but feel some days that I am inching my way forward at best. 

I have such lofty ambitions for myself. And there's always the eternal question: Could I be doing more? The eternal answer: Of course. You always could. You could study more. Read all of the 'suggested' readings as well as the 'required' readings. Sign up for more committees. Sacrifice your social life. Sleep less. 

Where do I draw the line? How do I know when to stop pushing myself? Does trying your best to reach your dreams account for any downtime? If I spend time relaxing does it mean I'm not trying my best? If not, what is the golden ratio of exertion and relaxation?

In other news, I was falling asleep in a writing workshop the other day (not due to lack of interest, just exhaustion, I have not been sleeping well) and I started writing a stream of consciousness piece to keep myself awake. It's unedited save for the line spacing. I thought I'd share it with you.

don't fall asleep don't fall asleep don't fall asleep

stream of consciousness stream of pen fume of mood room of blood
brood of humans the human few the human crew developed people out of womb 

from the womb to the tomb eyes awake to drink the gloom 

purple shroom blue moon i am crooning at the moon 

i am crying at the sky i am keeping open eyes pry them open with my mind

keep them open with the time time is flowing through my life 

i am sleeping in the sky i am snoring on the tide ocean waves inside my brain

footprints on a sandy spine sandy beach and golden wine laughter sunlight and the tide

breathing deeply in the sand keeping glass inside my hand

crushing sand to make it glass crushing memories of the past

frame the picture in your head name the creature in your bed

using pain to stay awake using shame to feel alive

using blame to dry my eyes using noise to bide my time

dropped in the deep end of a new life

Non sum qualis eram. 

I am not as I was.

I am very interested in questions concerning identity. Though I am clearly the same person I was a month ago, in many ways I am now a different person. My days are different, my thoughts are different, the stuff of my very life and mind are different. My way of looking at the world is different. I have always been somewhat unstable during periods of extreme change. However, I feel right now that I am riding this wave rather than being sucked down by it. Perhaps just riding the crest tremulously, but really, there is such a fine, dangerous line between the crest and the deep. And isn't that what makes the wave so exciting? 

I am (cautiously) optimistic about the years to come. Upon returning from my trip, I almost immediately started school, pursuing a Master of Science in Occupational Therapy at U of T. What a whirlwind of a life I lead. I am all too aware of the fact that I have not yet even completed my first week of school, so I am perfectly open to the fact that I may get sucked down by anxiety and despair at any moment. But right now I am just whelmed, and not over-. 

The program is certainly intense - not even the first week is over and the assignments are already rolling in, the profs doling them out with such a casual air. But I am surrounded by bright, vibrant individuals. My goodness, it is wonderful to be back in school. I enjoyed my jobs dearly over the past year, and have enjoyed the working world, but I have always loved school and am happy to be back in this environment. I am so excited to learn. I am most excited about my neuroscience and anatomy course, in which I will get to explore the mysteries of the brain in greater detail (including working with cadavers, albeit in a much more forthright manner than Michaelangelo did, sneaking into chapel morgues to dissect the dead). I will get to learn to assist people in getting back to the lives that they want to live by aiding them in gaining back their ability to participate in the activities that are meaningful to them. Each day I hear more about bright, innovative, and passionate people who love their work, here in Toronto and abroad. 

I wade into the waters of this optimism cautiously. This is foreign to me, one so usually so pessimistic in the name of self-preservation. I can't see below the surface and the ground may drop off below my feet at any given moment, but I trust myself to use all of my strength to keep myself afloat and hold my head above water.