"I’m Disabled . . . I Can Prove It."

I have a disability. My plight comes from working hard at my job and caring about how well it is done. I obsess over details and take it personally if I’m criticized. I’m only as good as my last accomplishment and ultimately the job is never done. Muscle tension, headaches, and sleepless nights are just some of the side effects. If I don’t keep my flare-ups to a minimum, high blood pressure and obesity (leading to a premature death) could be my lot. This disease is hereditary as I’m raising a son and daughter with the same affliction.

My work disability sometimes goes into remission when I get home to face my other disability: my love for my family. This ailment keeps me focused and disciplined in the rest of my life and it means I might not give in to some pleasures such as self-centeredness and anything that might make me put my family second. I say “no” to my kids, “yes” to my wife, and “stay out” to anything that might harm them. I would leave my job, shoot an intruder, and walk through fire to save them. The television is not our guide, the Bible is and we believe in those things that it teaches. We think you should too. I have a daughter to protect from mindless boys, a son to protect from himself, and a wife to shield from my bouts of stupidity which is thankfully only an occasional fever instead of a disability.
There are others who have these same disabilities. They go in early and stay late. They save to buy something and take care of it when they get it. They work when they’re sick and get sick if they can’t work. The only thing they hate worse than paying taxes is looking at able-bodied people who do nothing but live off of someone else’s dollar. Those who do nothing do serve one purpose. They spawn other generations that will expect to get something for nothing.
While these disabilities are made up, they’re not any more made up than the disabilities many others get by with today, bleeding our country dry. At least mine contributes.
Now, where’s my check?

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