In the last four months, having the money to cover my basic needs has given me the chance to flourish rather than just survive.
I'd been in this situation before, sitting across from an employer for a position I was qualified for, with the choice between honesty and employment.
For the first time in a long time I see the possibility of a future for myself. My disability may be permanent, but I finally have the resources to not only take care of myself but to thrive.
Earlier this year, a physical therapist called me "deformed." I added the word to a list I keep in a back corner of my mind. Deformed. Cripple. Baby-hand.