Trigger warning: This section discusses passive suicidal thoughts, assisted dying, and caregiving fears. If this material could be upsetting, please skip or seek support.
If you are in immediate danger, contact emergency services now.
U.S.
Call or text 988 (Suicide & Crisis Lifeline); chat at 988lifeline.org.
Crisis Text Line: text HOME to 741741.
The Trevor Project (LGBTQ+ youth): 1‑866‑488‑7386 or text START to 678‑678.
Outside the U.S.
International crisis lines and resources: findahelpline.com or befrienders.org.
Samaritans (UK & ROI): 116 123 or samaritans.org.
Lifeline (Australia): 13 11 14 or lifeline.org.au.
Non‑crisis support
Reach out to a trusted friend, provider, or local disability support organizations for help with caregiving, benefits, and navigation.
It was a sign. Just the other day, a friend of mine commented about the double standard regarding suicide and disabled people. When it comes to non-disabled people, taking one’s life creates a whirlwind of pleas—life is worth living, don’t give up, things will get better, etc. But when a disabled person makes the same announcement, there is little response. Wanting to die is seen as a natural progression for a disabled person, and in many ways, society makes it easier for them to do it. Days later, I saw a similar post on Instagram. It was eerie how similar the ideas were. I knew I had to write about this.
I started writing and quickly realized it’s a more complicated subject. I asked myself, based on my own experience, “Is this true?” I have had what my therapist describes as “passive thoughts” about my own life ending—like I’ve wanted to get in a car accident and not recover. I would never follow through and intentionally end my life, but I welcomed death. I was met with concern and options to make me feel better—including medication. I have never been offered assistance in my demise. So again, based on my own experience, this is not true.
But of course, my experience doesn’t mean it’s the same for everyone. I decided to do a little research about assisted suicide. I am by no means an expert, nor do I pretend to have all the facts. These are just my observations as I try to untangle a really messy subject.
I considered a number of items.
Empathy or a Value Judgment?
When society looks at a disabled person who is struggling, it can seem quick to accept, or even facilitate, their exit. I wonder: Does this response actually show empathy? Or is it a continuation of the belief that our lives simply don’t have as much value as the non-disabled?
I think it depends on your vantage point; are you a caregiver, loved one, medical provider, etc. Maybe it’s some weird fraction-filled combination of both arguments.
My understanding is people often have to jump through hoops to qualify to end their life. In California, where I live, there is the Medical Assistance in Dying (MAID) program. It’s available to people who have a terminal illness with a prognosis of six months or less. Disability alone isn’t a qualifier. You have to have two physicians agree; you must ensure it is voluntary and that you are not being pressured into participating, etc. It does seem like they are asking some good questions.
However, I wouldn’t be surprised if I heard about misuse and abuse. Things aren’t perfect. I know other countries have much looser requirements. It is a slippery slope; it could turn into the involuntary euthanasia of disabled people. Do we want to start heading towards that path?
The Ultimate Autonomy vs. Systemic Failures
To many, having the freedom to choose when to end your life is the ultimate expression of bodily autonomy. I completely agree that it is, and maybe, one day, I will want to make that decision. And I don’t judge anyone who has.
But at the same time, making the process acceptable can send the message that disabled people have nothing to live for and would be better off dead. This also relates to the low expectations that many have of disabled people. Even the quality of our lives is in question. For example, others often think we cannot be happy if we cannot walk, hear, talk, etc.
It’s simply not true. We can live fulfilling and joyous lives. But I have to admit, it’s not always easy. Disability systems are so complex that they force many of us into poverty just to receive basic care and benefits. They demand time, effort, and never-ending paperwork. It is draining. When survival is made exhausting, ending life may seem like the only choice. It’s not free; it’s forced.
If we lived in a society that fully supported and advocated for disabled people, would suicide be an option?
The Echoes of Religious Dogma
For many, me included, we’ve been socialized to believe that suicide is an automatic sentence to an eternity in hell. Taking your own life and potentially ending up in the fiery furnace in perpetuity is too risky.
I have decided that gamble is too uncertain for my own life. But does that mean I should expect everyone else to agree with it? My own beliefs shouldn’t dictate the freedoms others get.
So where do I stand? I don’t know. Like many things, there is not a black-and-white answer. It’s nuanced. I don’t want to contribute to the idea that we don’t matter; I don’t want to end up spending the afterlife in hell; I don’t think we are supported well enough. Maybe my mind would change if something happened, good or bad. No one knows the future. In some ways, I’m glad the choice exists; I just don’t know if I can accept the consequences, both implied and prophesied.
I think acknowledging and accepting the difficult and tough things along with disability is a huge part of Disability Pride. When it comes to the way civilization considers suicide for disabled people, I don’t have it all figured out. But maybe Disability Pride Month is the perfect time to claim the space to be conflicted.
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