Everyone Need To Read This: Disabled People So They Can Stop Thinking They Are A Burden Or That It's

Everyone need to read this: disabled people so they can stop thinking they are a burden or that it's their fault and abled people so they can know that is not OUR fault, and they realize that we are people too and they need to try to understand us and support us when anything like this happens.

It’s okay to stim in public. It’s not your fault if you need accommodations in public spaces. Your mobility aid is not inconvenience. Your disability is not an inconvenience. It’s okay if you need help reading a menu or if you need different menu that’s easier to read. It’s not your fault if your mobility aid interfered with someone else’s day (getting your chair stuck in an entrance), the world was not made with our needs in mind. It’s not your fault if you didn’t understand something socially and messed up. It’s okay if you need to wear ear defenders and sunglasses inside, you’re not rude, the lights and sound are just hard. You are not a bad person and you’re not a burden.

Today I had a math test. I was relieved because that was my last test of all. I'll tell how it ended up with me having maybe the worst meltdown of my whole life.

TW: meltdown, sensory overload

I already have had a discussion with my mom in the car, what made me angry. Then, at school, some other stuff pissed me off, but I though it was nothing. The test was in the two first periods, and I make my tests in a separate room with some other kids that have problems having a test inside the classroom.

I panicked some times during the test because the adults that were responsible for the test screwed up some important stuff, and, in the end, I got REALLY pissed off cause the boy next to me started to hit his rubber on the table. It was so loud and, at the same time, so low.

At 9:00, I had finished my test, so I could go back to my classroom. Picked up my schoolbag and went down the stairs to my year's floor. I stopped when I was in front of my classroom's door. I was not physically able to enter in. I could go to any other place, but to my classroom. I felt like I couldn't enter in, or else I would lose shit.

So, I sat in front of the door, and, a few minutes later, I went to the bathroom and tried to calm down. I thought I could go back to my classroom now. Spoiler: I wasn't. The hall has a lot of echo, and I could hear everything.

"NO, NO, NO! I'M STILL NOT PREPARED!" This is what I screamed to myself, alone, when I first heard the echoes. I sat on the ground, holding my schoolbag. So, I gathered strenght and walked to this really large hall/courtyard where there are some benchs.

I wanted to go home. I sat in a bench and started repeating the word: "home, home, home..." It was not voluntary. I just wanted to go away from there. So, I opened up my schoolbag and called my parents. My mom and my dad were instantly really worried about me, so, they started to talking to me so I could calm down. Mom told me to go to the bathroom, so I could be in a safer place.

There was nobody in the bathroom, and I entered a box. My mom stayed talking to me, which helped me calm down a bit. But this was the moment the test was over. Everyone left their classrooms and a lot of girls always reunite in the bathroom. I was still in the box, with my schoolbag there and my mom on the phone, trying to calm down.

When people started entering in and talking, I lost it. It was painful, it was so loud, it was terrible. It broke me in half. My body was shaking and slipping to the ground, and I felt something in my throat: the screaming urge of crying. My voice cracked when I answered my parents question. They were hearing the noise through the phone, too. My mom heard my voice cracking and realized I was about to cry, so, she told me to leave the bathroom. And that's what I did.

I got my schoolbag, opened the box's door and ran. I bumped and pushed at least four girls in my way out, but I was desperate. I was hurt, scared and broken. I wanted to run away from everything and everyone. The courtyard was full of people, so I immediatly ran to the hall with the benchs in which I was before.

Nobody was there, and, whyle running through the hall, I started crying and crying. My tears couldn't even flow through my face, because I was with a terrible pain expression, so all I could do was make some noises of crying and despair with my closen mouth.

I ran until I arrived in front of the library. At this point, my face was covered in tears. My parents were still on the call during the moment I was running, and I told them, while sobbing and crying, that I wanted to go home. They called the school so they could get me.

When I was going down to the entrance to meet them, I had to pass through the courtyard, and there was someone in there with a fucking guitar who started playing. I felt it all going back again, and I ran until I arrived to the entrance, almost falling down the stairs, because I simply couldn't handle something else anymore. In the entrance, I could still hear the sound, but it was lower. A few minutes later, my parents arrived and picked me up.

Is it alright if I don't headcanon a character as being autistic because I don't like them, even though everyone else headcanons them as autistic?

[Descrição da imagem: quatro imagens de desenhos em papel dos personagens de Turma da Mônica. A primeira imagem mostra três desenhos de Mônica. Ela é uma menina de sete anos atarracada de pele morena, dentes da frente proeminentes que são visíveis fora de sua boca e cabelo preto curto repicado ultrapassando um pouco seu queixo. Ela veste um vestido vermelho simples sem muitos detalhes, tênis brancos, meias brancas e segura um coelho de pelúcia azul. O vestido e o coelho são as únicas partes coloridas da imagem. O primeiro desenho é uma imagem de corpo inteiro dela segurando firme o coelho e olhando para o lado com uma expressão irritada no rosto. O segundo desenho é uma imagem dela sentada de pernas cruzadas enquanto segura o coelho em sua frente e o olha com uma expressão alegre no rosto. O terceiro desenho é uma imagem de seu quadril para cima, na qual ela sorri e flexiona o seu braço esquerdo.

A segunda imagem mostra três desenhos de Cebolinha. Ele é um menino de sete anos de pele clara com cinco fios de cabelo longos de aparência esvoaçante. Ele tem band-aids no joelho direito, na panturrilha esquerda e um curativo no seu antebraço direito. Ele veste uma camisa verde, um short preto, meias rabiscadas e tênis pretos. Há um papel enrolado saindo do bolso do short. A camisa é a única parte colorida da imagem. O primeiro desenho é uma imagem de corpo inteiro dele com a mão direita no queixo e uma expressão pensativa no rosto, com seu olhar direcionado ao chão. O segundo desenho é uma imagem de seu busto na qual ele sorri largamente com uma expressão de alegria no rosto. O terceiro desenho é uma imagem de seu busto na qual seus fios de cabelo estão sobre seu rosto e parcialmente dentro de sua boca e ele tem bolsas sob os olhos, e tem uma expressão frustrada e cansada no rosto.

A terceira imagem mostra três desenhos de Magali. Ela é uma menina de sete anos de pele clara com cabelo escuro amarrado em marias-chiquinhas com um laço de cada lado e três fios de cabelo encaracolados sobre o topo de sua cabeça. Ela veste um vestido amarelo com bolsos na saia, tênis brancos e meias brancas. No seu bolso direito, há embalagens de comida, e no bolso esquerdo, há flores. O vestido é a única parte colorida da imagem. O primeiro desenho é uma imagem de corpo inteiro dela com a mão esquerda escondida atrás do corpo, a mão direita levemente estendida e uma expressão alegre no rosto, e seu olhar está direcionado para cima. O segundo desenho é uma imagem de seu busto na qual ela segura um pedaço de melancia com uma mordida, e ela tem uma expressão de alegria no rosto com os olhos fechados, e está mastigando. O terceiro desenho é uma imagem de seu busto na qual ela tem uma expressão frustrada no rosto e tem as bochechas coradas. Suas marias-chiquinhas estão para cima, em uma posição de meia-lua, e ela tem as mãos levantadas, em choque.

A quarta imagem mostra três desenhos de Cascão. Ele é um menino de sete anos de pele escura com cabelo escuro encaracolado no topo da cabeça e o rosto levemente sujo. Ele veste uma camisa amarela levemente suja, um short xadrez vermelho com um suspensório igual, tênis escuros e meias brancas. A camisa, o short e o suspensório são as únicas partes coloridas da imagem. O primeiro desenho é uma imagem de corpo inteiro dele com a perna levantada como se fosse dar um passo à frente, o corpo levemente inclinado para trás, as mãos atrás da cabeça e uma expressão feliz no rosto, piscando um olho e com a língua de fora da boca. O segundo desenho é uma imagem de seu busto na qual ele segura um guarda-chuva aberto e uma expressão exagerada de choro no rosto. O terceiro desenho é uma imagem de corpo inteiro dele sentado no chão lendo um gibi e com uma expressão impressionada no rosto. Fim da descrição.]

Fiz uma releitura dos personagens principais de “Turma da Mônica”. Sim, eu sei que é meio feio. Desculpa se as imagens estiverem borradas ou desfocadas em alguma parte.

IM SO HAPPY

DEMON SLAYER MUGEN TRAIN ARC WAS DUBBED IN MY LANGUAGE

IM REWATCHING IT

IM SO FUCKING HAPPY ITS MY SPECIAL INTEREST AND SOON THEYLL RELEASE THE ENTERTAINMENT DISTRICT ARC TOO

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

In today's episode of "Is this character autistic or traumatized?", we have: Kanao Tsuyuri! And she is both.