We're not just concerned about disappointing story arcs - we're talking about real, visceral impact on real people, people who are already devastatingly underrepresented on television and in life.
Society does not treat disabled people with the compassion, respect or listening ear with which it treats our abusers.
These hashtags should not be seen as harmful to the NHS. Instead, they should be seen as an opportunity to listen to patients, listen to disability activists, and instigate reform that could change the NHS for the better.
I shudder at the thought of it being an option to other vulnerable young autistic people, never giving them the chance they deserve to come through it and learn a sense of pride in who they are.
He goes through so much and is still the happiest creature. It's like we were meant to find each other. We both struggle. And we know how to look after each other.
I will not stand by and watch the bastardisation of a word that is part of my very definition.
Quiet carriages are absolutely a lifeline for disabled people like myself. Some days they are the only reason I have the emotional energy to succeed at work.
My brain is juggling so many things, and if you throw something else at me without warning, the likelihood is that I'm going to miss it altogether or drop it before its first rotation is complete.
It was a crushing, overpopulated corner of hell, and I promised myself I would never go into the situation again unarmed.
I feel obliged to give constant apologies for existing as a neurodiverse person in a neurotypical world.