Life's taught me a lot of hard lessons over the years, but in my case, one of the most important ones was also one of the hardest to learn. It's that people are allowed to be disabled and to have limits. And they shouldn't feel the need to put themselves in the hospital trying to prove otherwise.
I spent an embarrassingly large chunk of my life gaslighting myself –– about my autism, my anxiety, my agoraphobia, my occasional run-ins with depression –– because that’s what I was taught to do growing up. My parents didn't "believe" in disability, especially anything mental. They thought the only thing worse than struggling with your internal wiring, brain chemistry, or mental health was admitting that you were.
And the absolute queen mother of all cardinal sins? Expecting others to help you or otherwise reasonably accommodate you because of a disability, documented or otherwise.
So, when I’d reach a breaking point — mentally, physically, emotionally — I didn’t rest. I didn’t ask for help. Instead, I doubled down and smiled harder. I forced myself to push through, assuring myself that everyone goes through this. Then I'd fall into a depression (sometimes complete with suicidal ideation) when I couldn’t “just get over it” or magically keep up with everyone else.
But the system applauded. Friends nodded approvingly, telling me I was “so strong” and so “inspiring.” And as long as none of the cracks were showing on the surface, making them look bad, my family approved, as well. Meanwhile, I was falling apart. Quietly, invisibly, and possibly even permanently.
And the worst part of it all was that I thought I was doing something noble –– the "right" thing. I thought keeping myself in a perpetual state of self-destruction was proof that I was tough and capable. That I had value. It took me way too long to understand what was truly happening to me underneath, and I don’t want that for you.
So let’s unpack a few things.
1. Disability isn't a character flaw
Disability — whether it’s physical, mental, neurological, or a complex cocktail of all three — isn’t a personality defect. It’s not a failure of willpower, a failure to try harder, or a sign you’re “less than.” It’s a condition, it's real, and it definitely shapes how you move through the world (sometimes drastically). Trying to pretend it doesn’t exist won’t make it disappear. If anything, it makes it worse, especially over time.
This world is built strictly for people who fit into a very specific box when it comes to functionality. If you don't fit comfortably inside that box, and you won't, the system doesn't adjust to make room for you. It tells you to contort yourself and force yourself to fit instead. It will demand that you hustle harder, be more positive, and “not let it hold you back.”
It's up to you to advocate for and accommodate yourself however you can.
And accommodating yourself is not the same thing as giving up. It’s how you survive and stay upright while living within a system that was never designed with you in mind. And, in many cases, it’s the only way you’ll have enough energy left to actually live, instead of just perform.
2. Stating your limitations is not "making excuses"
There’s this weird cultural obsession with never making “excuses.” People are taught that it’s brave and commendable to collapse in silence rather than be honest and say, “I can’t do that right now. My body/mind won’t let me.” And I get it. Nobody wants to be seen as unreliable, let their parents down, or feel like they're coming in last. But trying to pretend your limits don’t exist doesn’t make you strong. It just makes you unavailable to yourself.
If life's taught me anything, it's that people who accuse those with disabilities of “making excuses” are often just pissed off that they're not willing to suffer for their convenience. I've also noticed that quite a few of them are projecting. Many of them (like some of my relatives) are also struggling, they're hurting themselves because they think it's a flex, and they think you should have to suffer just like they do.
So, if you qualify for exemptions and accommodations? Ask for them and use them. And don't apologize for it, either.
3. Killing yourself to appear normal won't make you a hero
I lost years of my life (and my entire youth) trying to pass as someone I wasn't, because people who were supposed to love and protect me made it clear that being disabled made me unacceptable to them. Years spent pretending to be neurotypical, abled, high-functioning. Years trying to "live up to my potential."
And for what? Approval that only lasts as long as the performance and maybe a stale cookie, if I was lucky.
The normalcy dance is a trap. Because the more “normal” you appear, the less likely you are to get the help you actually need. People stop offering grace. Employers stop being flexible. Loved ones expect more and more of you. And when you eventually hit a wall and break, they'll blame you for no longer measuring up.
So, get comfortable being real, and do it while you're still young, if you can. If you’re having a hard day, say so. If you need extra help, ask for it. Let your life be shaped by truth, not empty applause.
4. You deserve accommodations even if you looked "fine"
And I was definitely one of those people who looked fine from the outside looking in. From the time I was little, I was considered gifted, extremely intelligent, and creative. When I grew into myself a little, I also scanned as pretty. People liked me. They wanted to know me and be around me. I didn't "look" like someone who was autistic, or agoraphobic, or in need of accommodations.
So, when life would break me or force me to stop and finally take care of myself, people jumped to the conclusion that I was overreacting or "being dramatic," as my mother liked to call it. I heard "lazy," "entitled," and "pathetic" a time or three over the years, as well.
Listen to enough of that poison for long enough, and you start to believe it yourself, especially if it comes from parents or others you trust or rely on.
The thing is, nobody questions the need for glasses, or insulin, or mobility aids. And yet, the second someone says, “I need a quiet workspace,” or “I can’t process information under pressure,” people act like you’re some princess asking for luxury treatment.
You’re not. You’re asking for the bare-ass minimum –– to exist without punishment. So, apply for the accommodation. Take the exemption. Use the damn parking placard. You do not need to justify it to anyone who isn’t legally required to review the paperwork.
5. Saying "no" when you need to isn't a weakness
I used to be the type of person who said "yes" to everything, because I was afraid of disappointing people or making others connected to me look bad. I thought I was being noble or setting a good example, but what I was really doing was making a life I was already struggling with even harder on myself.
That said, if you’re disabled, especially if your condition is inconsistent or hard to predict, learning to say no is one of the most important life skills you can learn.
No, you can’t go to that all-day event where there won't be any shade or seating. No, you can’t commit to something if there’s no plan in place for how you'll get home safely. No, you can’t hold space for someone else’s emotional crisis when you’re barely holding yourself together.
Every time you say no to something that harms you, you’re saying yes to something that helps you. So, please start. The sooner the better.
6. Start advocating for yourself now, not later
A lot of people wait until they absolutely can’t do something anymore to start asking for accommodations. I certainly did! And by waiting, I mean I struggled and barely got by until I was well into my 40s because I thought I was proving something to myself and others by doing so. By then, my body was fried, my mind was on fire, and my spirit had gone full ghost mode.
Please don’t wait until it gets that bad. And don't assume that you must be "fine" because you've been living this way for years. Trust me, no one is standing at a finish line somewhere waiting to hand you a medal in exchange for all your suffering.
So, start now. Start when you first notice that certain things feel way harder than they should or than they seem to be for other people. Start when you realize you’re planning your entire life around pain, panic, or fatigue. Don't waste your life suffering when you could be spending it building an existence that actually works for you.
Because you're allowed to live a life that works for you
At the end of the day, you’re not here to impress anyone. You weren't born to help some fat cat boss meet a productivity quota. You’re sure as shit not here to prove to your parents that you deserve to exist and that they put out a good product by pretending you’re not struggling.
You’re here to live. And living looks different for everyone. So let yourself be honest, and know that it's normal to need things. Give yourself permission to say no. And above all else, let go of the idea that your value somehow correlates to how well you hide your pain.
Your disability is not a failure. It’s part of your story, and you get to decide what kind of story it becomes.
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