Picture it: you’ve slaved through an exhaustive job application. You’re finally near the end. You’re mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted from answering all of the questions and making sure your resume and cover letter are as perfect as they can be. Then you see it. The question about identifying any disabilities you may have and whether or not you can complete the tasks of the job you’re applying to with or without reasonable accommodations for your disability. You freeze. Your mind goes blank. You think about the muscle spasm you had three months ago and whether or not that may signify a debilitating chronic physical illness. You think about the anxiety you felt before going skydiving with your boyfriend for the first time and whether or not that’s indicative of a larger problem. You panic at the thought of answering the question incorrectly (even though you’re aware the company can’t deny you a job based on the answer). The truth is that disabilities are judged. People may never hear back about a job submission if they answer that they do have a disability—even if they’re perfect for the job.

Now, is that strictly legal? Of course it isn’t.

Does it happen? Of course it does.

Unfortunately, all types of disabilities are heavily stigmatized in America.

This leads me to the novel turned major motion picture “Me Before You” by Jojo Moyes. I first saw the preview for the movie back in January and was immediately intrigued. It’s a classic romantic tearjerker a la Nicholas Sparks. I wanted to know what I was getting myself into, so when I had a free day I picked up the book and read it cover to the cover.

Warning: this article contains spoilers!

For those of you who don’t know what the book and movie are about, it is about 26-year-old Louisa Clark. Louisa finds herself unemployed after the café she worked at goes out of business. After a slew of jobs she hates, she is hired to be the caregiver of Will Traynor. Will is a wealthy quadriplegic, paralyzed after he was hit by a motorcycle two years prior to the novel’s start.

*Spoiler Alert*

Louisa finds out that she was hired to be on suicide watch. Will failed in trying to kill himself before the novel begins. He has promised his parents six more months. At the end of six months, his parents have agreed to take Will to Dignitas in Switzerland. Dignitas is an actual organization that provides people with assisted suicides. Once Louisa finds out that Will plans on ending his life, she goes on a campaign to convince Will that life is still worth living. Will and Louisa fall in love (obviously). I won’t spoil the ending; suffice it to say that I shed more than a few tears when I reached the last page of the novel.

There has been a lot of lashing out against both the novel and the movie. Those angered by how the book and movie portray those living with disabilities heavily protested the premiere. Now, I agree that Louisa’s immediate reaction when presented with the opportunity of being a caregiver for a man paralyzed from the neck down is not kind. She recoils at the thought of having to help Will go to the bathroom. Protesters also claim that Will Traynor’s outlook is problematic because it signifies that all disabled people should give up and put themselves (and everyone around them by extension) out of their misery.

I sincerely and wholeheartedly disagree with those who find those to be the major messages of the book and film. At its core, “Me Before You” is a story about two people who come to terms with their lives and who they actually are juxtaposed with who they want to be. Will sees Louisa for who she is: a fairly intelligent young woman who has a lot to offer the world and is capable of far more than she gives herself credit for. Will, on the other hand, has to come to terms with the fact that he is no longer able to be the athletic, active man he was before his accident. He is no longer able to climb mountains or drive his motorcycle. He isn't a banker at the top of his industry anymore. His journey through the book is one of attempting to accept his new reality.

Beyond these messages, Jojo Moyes goes to considerable lengths to illustrate all of the choices and options quadriplegics have to lead fulfilling, fun, activity-filled lives. On her quest to find activities she and Will can participate in, Louisa finds online chat rooms full of people living with disabilities.

The vast majority of people she encounters in these chats are aghast when they find out that Will wants to die. In contrast, all the chat room members have valiantly fought not only to keep living but to live as fully as possible. As the novel progresses, Louisa discovers that quadriplegics can do a lot more than she ever thought possible. Will can go white water rafting and scuba diving.

Admittedly, the fact that Louisa is surprised that there is so much a quadriplegic can do is problematic (and emblematic of society's ignorance of the subject). Louisa’s transformation is completely positive. She goes from very nervous and almost scared of being Will’s caregiver to embracing her role and promoting the life that Will can have. Even more remarkable, she realizes that the life Will has in front of him is not a lonely or stationary one. She educates herself and through educating herself she educates the reader.

Beyond Louisa becoming more educated, aware and accepting of what a disability actually means for the person living with it, we follow Will, as he remains steadfastly committed to ending his life. Let’s be clear: every single person in Will’s life is against him taking his own life. They all fight for him to change his mind. They do whatever they can to provide Will with positive, life affirming experiences with the hope that they will change Will's minds. On top of this, the general community that the Traynor's and Clark's live in is incredibly anti-assisted suicide. Everyone attacks Louisa once they find out about Will’s plan. Louisa even faces being cast out of society and disowned by her family if she helps Will with his plan.

Let me take a second to focus on Louisa's arc. Jojo Moyes pretty much does everything humanly possible to show us that Louisa is emotionally stunted or stuck in her childhood in some ways. Louisa prefers to dress the way a little girl who is allowed to dress herself for the first time does. Her favorite outfit as a child was bumblebee tights with glittery rain boots. Beyond that, Louisa experiences a panic attack when she accompanies Will on a walk around the castle grounds.

If all of this isn't enough to make you realize that Louisa may be living with a handicap of her own, Moyes goes on to spell it out for us. Skip the next two paragraphs if you don't want more of the story spoiled.

*Spoiler Alert*

It turns out that Louisa was gang raped as a teenager and left lying alone and helpless in the middle of the maze on the castle's grounds. Once the reader realizes this Louisa makes a lot more sense. She is reticent to travel outside the boundaries of the small town she grew up in—and why shouldn't she be? She experienced an unspeakable horror in this sleepy hamlet in the English countryside. It's reasonable of her to expect the big bad world beyond the town to be even worse (or at least it's understandable to anyone who has ever dealt with PTSD, anxiety or depression). She's stayed in a relationship with an incompatible partner for seven years because it's safe and she knows her boyfriend will protect her.

Will helps Louisa come to terms with what happened to her. Luckily, Louisa's disability is one that can be overcome through hard work, acceptance, therapy and possibly medication depending on what exactly is going on with her psychologically. Moyes avoids delving too deeply into Louisa's personal demons. She saves that for the sequel.

Will isn't as fortunate as Louisa is. His disability is not one that can ever be cured or overcome, regardless of how hard he works. His quality of life won't necessarily improve unless drastic medical advancements are made (the book quite pointedly states that any such advancements are at least a decade away). The book also goes on to make it abundantly clear that any number of secondary illnesses and discomforts, such as pneumonia and bed sores, will make Will's life harder and more unpleasant.

Turning back to the critics who paint the book and movie as imploring the disabled to kill themselves, I have the following to say. No one in this book (except Will) is pro-assisted suicide. Moyes goes to great lengths to illustrate that Will Traynor is the exception to the rule. Most people who live with illness or disability choose to fight for their lives. Will is the one in a thousand who does not want to exist in a world where he is incapable of all he was capable of before his accident.

The critics also point out that the book takes pity on those living with disabilities and depicts them as caricatures of real people or people who have nothing to live for. In truth, every member of the chat room Louisa finds are allies for those living with disabilities. They may not be a huge part of the book but they are a forceful presence. Louisa finds people from all over the world living with conditions similar to Will's. None of them (or very few of them) even go so far as to sympathize with Will's outlook.

In short: this is not a book (or movie) aimed at convincing those who have disabilities that they should want to kill themselves. It is not a novel (or film) that glorifies this choice. It is not a work of art that romanticizes this choice. It illustrates quite clearly how heartbreaking this choice is for those who love the person considering it. It chronicles the crisis of conscience loved ones have when asked to participate in an assisted suicide. It emphasizes the alternative choices people living with disabilities have. It highlights the positives and shows how those living with disabilities both rally around each other and help people who want to learn more, want to be considerate, want to help those living with disabilities to live fun-filled, joyful lives.

What this book and movie does accomplish is showing how deeply personal this choice is. It shows how physical immobility and depression can ravage a person. It shows how a moment in time can transform a person into a shell of his or her former self. Ultimately, it is a lesson in unconditional love. Louisa has to put Will’s wishes before hers and accept that Will won’t be happy again. He doesn’t want to live a life full of consistent visits to the hospital, not knowing when pneumonia or one of the numerous other complications will claim his life. He doesn’t want to live unable to accomplish all of the things he no longer is able to do.

I do not agree with Will’s choice, but it is a valid one. At the end of the day, if someone doesn’t have the ability to improve their condition, don’t they deserve the chance to decide if their life continues? If death is inevitable, if the quality of a person’s life is so diminished from what they used to know, don’t they deserve the choice to end their suffering? Don’t they deserve that one moment of free will, the one moment of choosing their fate for themselves (that was cruelly taken from them when they became ill)? No one knows what he or she would do or how he or she would react when faced with a life altering illness. I know that I don’t judge Will. I do not agree with him- but I do not judge him.

If anything, this novel (and movie) urge its audience to rethink how they judge or shame those living with irreversible conditions who do wish to go through with an assisted suicide. One thing this opus does quite well is show how stigmatized assisted suicide is in today's world. Perhaps we should focus on lessening the stigma attached to both disability and those who choose to end their battle with an incurable disease or disability. Dignitas requires all of their patients to go through rigorous physical and psychological testing before they agree to assist their suicide. The process can take months or even years. It is not a decision they allow anyone to enter into lightly.

Jojo Moyes does a masterful job of showing the obstacles facing those living with disabilities and showing the challenges of loving someone living with a disability. There are no easy answers. The least we, as an enlightened society, can do is give those who know their quality of life will not improve the choice of whether their life continues. Yes, they have the chance to live happy, fulfilled lives. That doesn’t mean that they are not in chronic pain or that they are happy. Sometimes living boldly means making the choice no one else disagrees with. Sometimes living boldly means choosing to stop living. Live boldly—live in the way that is right for you. Everyone deserves this and they deserve to do it without being judged or shamed into conforming with what society wants or expects of them.

Live for you. Nothing else matters.