Whatever you call me, I’m still the person who experiences what I experience. You can call me mentally handicapped and I’m still the same person I was inside as I was before you told me that.
We all face barriers in life—many of them of our own making. I’m a smart guy, but that never stopped me from becoming mentally ill. Mentally ill. What a weird thing to say. “Mentally handicapped.” What a weird thing to say.
People can call it what they want, but it’s my experience and to me, it feels like me. I do what I do. I make the choices I make. I hurt some people. I love others. If people want to give me a break because they think I’m mentally ill, that’s up to them. I’m not asking for it. If I ask for a break, it’s because I want a break. No excuse required.
If I have trouble learning compared to others, then yes, I want them to make accommodations for me. If I need more time to take tests, then I want that time. I may be just as smart and creative as someone else except it takes me longer to do things. Is that a mental handicap? I don’t know. Someone might say it is. To me, it’s who I am, and it doesn’t change no matter what people do, but if they are kinder to me because of the label, it’s not a problem. If they condescend to me, it is a problem.
Yes, you have to explain to people that you have a hard time understanding them, and this is what you want them to do. You can’t hang a sign around your neck that says, “this person has Prader-willi syndrome” and expect them to know what that is or how to treat you appropriately.
You have to be responsible for interacting with people. You can’t expect someone else to do it for you. Mothers often do, but they aren’t doing their children any favors. Sooner or later, you have to learn how to interact with the world. Your mother may help smooth the way, but she won’t be there always. So you have to develop the skills you need, Prader-Willi or not.