I often need to remind myself of neglected truths. My skills are valuable, my time is precious, and I deserve respect. My free time is spent freeing myself, learning and creating. All time is free, we are forced into it.
I’m not worth less because I’m disabled, or because I can’t work a 9-5 retail or office job, or because I don’t make money off my talents in art and writing. Money is no measure to weigh a soul by. I’m bound by rent, bills, and other costs of living in a capitalist system so I can’t ignore financial realities, but I can’t place my value in whether I’m getting by or have enough money. I don’t, no one does.
My lack of money isn’t a reflection of me.
Money doesn’t align with my views or beliefs. If I’d don’t cooperate I will die and so will my dreams of the future, but I can’t base my value upon people’s perceived opinions of my being. Whether I function well enough or not, in a system that doesn’t work, doesn’t matter.
My time is valuable. I’ve been dedicated the last two years to prioritizing and organizing my days so that depression doesn’t swallow me whole. I keep myself busy, I write easily two thousand word a day and create art regularly. I research philosophy, history, science, religion, and other topics every day.
My life is rich. Far richer than most, because I choose to fill it with my own value.