{"id":2083,"date":"2018-02-08T20:24:34","date_gmt":"2018-02-08T20:24:34","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/wp.lancs.ac.uk\/translatingpain\/?p=2083"},"modified":"2018-08-09T19:33:01","modified_gmt":"2018-08-09T19:33:01","slug":"food-for-thought","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wp.lancs.ac.uk\/translatingpain\/2018\/02\/08\/food-for-thought\/","title":{"rendered":"‘Food for Thought’, by\u00a0Ryan Michael Dumas"},"content":{"rendered":"

Just got a letter from disability insurance: Denied. I\u2019m not disabled enough<\/em> to get anything. After months of trying to convince them.<\/span><\/p>\n

How do you prove you can’t work?<\/span><\/p>\n

I cannot sit up, stand, or walk hardly at all. There is no job I can do while laying down, without having to make phone calls.<\/span><\/p>\n

Just laying here, my back aches. But it’s the most comfortable position I can find. (It hurts my hips but those aren’t important.)<\/span><\/p>\n

If I dared to sit up, my lower and upper back would scream in agony. It would not end until I laid back down.<\/span><\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t keep working; had to move back in with my toxic parents. I have no money, no freedom, and no chance. I have no future. And that terrifies me.<\/span><\/p>\n

I’m a survivor. The world wants me dead. It\u2019s only a matter of time.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n