Definitions and Identity
by Guy W. Thomas I moved to the Bay Area from Illinois in 1980 and learned two things about myself within a week of my arrival. Both discoveries may or may not be obvious to most. They
rocked my little world. I learned them in the process of applying for Supplemental Security Income (SSI), In-Home Support Services (IHSS), Section 8 Housing, and Medi-Cal. All wonderful and necessary government subsidies for a
growing, unemployed, disabled boy. The funny thing about the process is you can't just be disabled to qualify for these programs. You also must fit into their mega - categories of disability and the categories are slightly
different depending on governmental program. I learned that I was considered severely disabled and developmentally disabled. Now both data points were a shock. Being severely disabled was like thinking you're middle aged, and over
hearing a conversation about the nice 'old' man in the bright red shirt. Just as you're congratulating yourself on how good you look in your new red shirt.. An upsetting realization, but no real surprise. Being developmentally
disabled was a whole other kettle of fish, as my mother says. I've been physically disabled my whole life. I've accepted the reality. In fact, I don't know what I'd do without it. However, it turns out people who were born disabled
or acquired one before the age of five or so, like me (mine showed up at 1½ years old), are considered to have cognitive deficits. Our disability prevented some natural cognitive development because we couldn't freely interact with
our environments like other children. It never occurred to me that I might have a cognitive disability. I'd always been a bright student. Got A's when I cared to, B's if I didn't. I have a high IQ FWIW. What compliments I got in
school and at home were all about my intelligence. To suggest that there might be something wrong with the one pert of my anatomy I thought worked. Chilled me to the bone! At first, I rejected the notion, but years later I
reconsidered. I do feel like there are wholes in how I get through the world. How I react to certain situations. My difficulty with the workplace culture. How I can't seem to shift gears quickly. All seem to speak to of some kind
of deficit. I've been bothered by little behavioral or mental blips my whole life. I have no natural sense of direction. I can puzzle out maps, but only after much effort. Sometimes my body decides on the direction I'm going
without conscious thought and its usually wrong. This happens mostly when I'm in a hurry, at malls or in hotels. For example, coming out of my hotel room I'll make a right turn, when the elevators are on the left. What's
interesting to me is once I've made the wrong turn, unless I really concentrate, I'll make the same mistake for the duration of my stay. As most of us (if not all), I live in many different worlds; fandom, disability community,
local politics, Democratic Party politics (they're different, trust me), the poly community, size acceptance etc. I meet lots of people who for some unknown reason remember my name. I need context to remember people's names.
Especially, if I don't see them often or they're new friends. I get very anxious, if I run into friends from other worlds out of their native environment. Partly, I don't know which 'Guy' to act like. Do I act like Sci Fi
fanboy-Guy or political Guy when I run into Fred Collignon (a former Berkeley city council person) at The Other Change of Hobbit? The more immediate concern is, what's his name? If I remember where I know him from I can usually
come up with a name, but it takes a few beats. I often think of the name the moment they walk out the door. I often get what I call the in-a-fishbowl feeling. Everyone feels far away, or like I'm underwater and the world is
above me at the surface of the water looking down. Ya know, I'm not getting to the point very well. The more I fool with this article, the less I like it. I'll try again another time. For now, I've blathered on for four plus
pages and I'm outta gas. So, I'll end the torture here. Guy
© 1998 by the author, please ask to reprint elsewhere.
