I'm struggling with the decision to stop working. I'm not looking for advice - just support & validation. I have what I'd class as moderate ME. I was very, very mildly ill for a few years, then last fall I had a relapse that resulted in recurring leg weakness; since then I haven't been able to walk for more than a minute or two. I cut down to part time work and was improving until I was unexpectedly forced to move, then I ended up mostly bedbound for weeks. I have been on short term disability for the last 3 months. I'm doing better, but my mobility seems to be permanently affected. My insurance is covering a custom wheelchair, which will arrive next week. I was hoping to return to work part time, but my workplace is incredibly unaccommodating. I work for a prestigious university library, and their approach to disability issues is to exploit every loophole in the ADA and make the process as difficult & traumatizing as possible until people give up. My doctor has submitted 8 rounds of paperwork for them in the last year. My paperwork kept getting bounced back for various reasons - because I was undiagnosed and couldn't fill out all parts of the form, because my symptoms didn't fit their template, because the information wasn't in the exactly right place on the form, etc. Since I couldn't get accommodations, I had to pursue a part time schedule by taking one day of FMLA leave every week. My doctor and I had to file my FMLA paperwork 3 times before it was accepted. I applied again for accommodations again 2 months ago, and my application was ignored until last week. Now my department head is claiming the library can't function ('undue hardship') if I go back on a part time schedule, even though I have been successfully completing *more* than my required job duties on that same part time schedule for the last year. I actually have proof of this in writing - tons of emails where I'm asking for more projects & reporting on my progress. Their arguments would never hold up in court, but they don't need to, because they haven't put anything in writing. They just won't move forward until I participate in the "interactive process," which is basically an endless cycle of paperwork, verbal abuse, and more paperwork. Example: my building isn't wheelchair accessible, and the head of Disability Services interrogated me about why I needed a push-button for the back door. "Why can't you just stand up?" So the idea of going in to a meeting and begging for permission to be paid less to complete exactly the same job responsibilities is not sounding that great right now. I am really still quite sick, and me going back to work successfully has always been a long shot. It was more about trying to postpone the inevitable to make myself a better candidate for long term disability coverage. (During the first year of coverage, my plan will not cover pre-existing conditions; since I have had vague symptoms for years before my first massive relapse, it could be argued either way. Sidenote: I really wish someone had told me about the magic 30 day window for benefits enrollment... I was young & dumb & HR lied to me. I didn't get another chance until I got married.) I realized that while I can probably fight to get the accommodations, best case scenario: the stress will hurt my health, I'll end up with the bare minimum supports, and I will continue to be treated like dirt when I return. The worst part is knowing that my managers are pushing this hypocritical "diversity and inclusion" initiative. They even force us to sit through slideshows about how "accessibility is a top priority" so they can pat themselves on the back about the big, showy renovation they are planning, which will obviously include wheelchair ramps because by. law. it. has. to. The choice seems kinda obvious the more I write about it. But I'm still scared to tell my family, as this will probably mean my partner & I will need help from them financially at some point. Plus, it's so depressing to end my career at this point: my first day of disability was my master's program graduation day.