In the place my family and I call home, the ADA is treated as little more than a suggestion—a law ignored and dismissed. The discrimination I endured wasn’t just shocking; it was life-threatening, forcing me to leave a multi-billion-dollar corporation. When I sought help from their HR department, I was coldly redirected to their Ethics department, which ultimately told me to solve the issue myself. The accommodations I was granted, meant to provide equal footing, were dismissed as too burdensome, too impractical to matter. Every attempt I made to escalate the issue—to find someone, anyone, willing to intervene—ended in heartbreak. No one listened. No one cared. It felt like hammering nails into my own coffin.
Desperate, I even reached out to the governor's office, only to be told that my struggles didn’t qualify because they didn’t consider ADHD a "real" disability. I was accused of "choosing" to be discriminated against. My last hope, the EEOC, was no better. They dismissed my case, citing a lack of disciplinary action against me—only for me to face retaliation days later in the form of a formal disciplinary action. When I reported this retaliation, the EEOC simply told me to file a new case and wait another year. That year became an open invitation for management to strip me of my humanity. They slashed my healthcare benefits, stonewalled me for months, blocked me from applying to other teams, and falsified my annual review to make me appear incompetent.
It’s painfully clear that my former employer owns this state and that I, as someone with a disability, have no place here—no hope of being seen as anything other than a burden. With the crushing realization that justice and dignity are out of reach, my wife and I have no choice but to leave this state, fleeing the suffocating despair of a system that will never protect us.