🛑 I Don’t Need Your Permission to Exist

Apparently, before I’m allowed to live quietly with a service dog, I must first submit to a panel of self-appointed experts in Other People’s Disabilities.

You know the type.
Born before the term neurodiversity existed, yet strangely confident they’ve mastered it through vibes, anecdotes, and personal discomfort.

Fascinating.

🐕 The Service Dog Tribunal

Let’s clarify something.

My service dog is not:

a community consultation item
a teachable moment
a debate exercise
or a case study for people nostalgic for a simpler century

There will be no PowerPoint.
No emotional backstory.
No “help me understand.”

The medical threshold was met.
Your curiosity is irrelevant.

⚖️ Accommodation, But Only If You’re Likeable™

There seems to be a popular myth that accommodation comes with conditions:

Be calm.
Be grateful.
Be polite.
Be endlessly patient.
Educate everyone, repeatedly, with a smile.

That’s not accommodation.
That’s obedience with extra steps.

Rights do not evaporate because I’m tired of explaining them.

🧠 Neurodiversity: Not Knowing ≠ Not Existing

Yes, I’m aware – this wasn’t covered in your training.
Neither was the internet, email, or the idea that people might differ in ways you can’t see.

Progress happened anyway.

Neurodiversity does not require your recognition to exist.
It’s not waiting for your approval.
And it will not be rolling back to make you comfortable.

🚫 Boundary (Since Hints Didn’t Work)

So here it is, clearly, slowly, and without emotional labor:

I don’t owe you an explanation.
I don’t owe you my medical history.
I don’t owe you a performance of pain.

What I owe – and what the law requires – is nothing more than confirmation.

After that, your role ends.

🪞 A Modest Proposal

If my refusal to explain unsettles you, I invite you to reflect on why a disabled person saying “no” feels threatening.

Hint: it’s not about the dog.

🔥 Final Note

Civil rights were never advanced by the people who “just had questions.”
They were advanced when the exhausted stopped answering them.

I’m not here to educate the past.
I’m here to live in the present.

I am done defending myself before people whose understanding of disability stopped sometime around rotary phones and moral superiority.

Sometimes “go f*** yourself” is not an insult.
It’s a boundary, expressed in plain language.

So, go f*** yourself!

Condo Chronicles