There is a weird form of victim blaming, I believe I suffer from, just because I have an ABI. Now, I’m not talking about the version I get all the time of the looks that tell me I’ve somehow bought this predicament upon myself, but the one where something goes missing from my home and I suspect a carer to have helped herself.
My mum will grill me in a form of interrogation, that perhaps I didn’t have it where I thought I had left something.
Do I know when I used it last? Yes, I have an example: –
Earlier this year my Japanese designed letter opener which, while plastic was in the design of a fish. While not expensive, it took a lifetime to find and as it was really ‘neat’ I kept it on my bookcase, o I didn’t have to go looking for it. I could go to the bookcase, hold the letters I wanted to open between my hip and the desk, one-handed, I could use the letter opener with great efficiency then put it back on the bookcase.