I am disabled. It took me a long time to call myself by that name. I used to think disability was a term restricted to people whose disabilities were obvious — you could see it in their gait, or how they fidgeted in their chairs, or the way people would talk around them instead of with them. My disabilities manifested in less noticeable ways: poor time management, perfectionism, relentless talkativeness, trouble sleeping, etc. I always considered these manifestations “personality defects” and personal failures rather than symptoms.
I think for a while I was afraid of co-opting the term from a group that seemed more minoritized than myself. I didn’t see myself as having real struggles (thanks, internalized ableism and impostor syndrome!), at least, not like those that other disabled people grappled with. Even when friends would describe their experiences of disabilities we shared, I would sympathize with their stories, rage at the injustices they faced — but I couldn’t give myself the same grace.
It wasn’t until I experienced a visible disability that I realized how disabled I’ve been. The last time I had COVID, I noticed something was off. Ten days, six weeks, then three months later, I wasn’t better. The cough and congestion were gone, but I still felt slow, like everything around me was playing at 2x speed, and it took all my energy to keep up. My brain was so laggy I struggled to compose coherent sentences; catching up with a friend over dinner left me lethargic and almost dizzy for days. People asked if I was alright, worried why they hadn’t talked with me in weeks or seemed so dazed at work.
I couldn’t deny it anymore, I was disabled. When everyone noticed it, I believed it. But, really, it wasn’t all that different from how I experienced disabilities before, except that, this time, there was an easy before and after comparison. Everyone knew pre-COVID me and post-COVID me. There was never a version of myself before ADHD or Anxiety; they’ve been with me since birth. There’s no telling where the diagnoses end and I begin.
Long COVID made my other disabilities entirely unmanageable. I didn’t realize how tumultuous my balance was until COVID gave me a shove and sent me tumbling off a cliff. It was a wake-up call: just because I was compensating for my disabilities well enough before COVID didn’t mean they weren’t there. Just because other people couldn’t see them didn’t mean they weren’t real. Long COVID forced me to accept that I needed support. I couldn’t keep trudging through life, exhausted from playing on an uneven field and unwilling to accept the help offered to me. My disabilities were — are — real, and I deserve a level playing field.
Unruly Bodies 
hii!
Your title really intrigued me to further read your blog, and I really enjoyed reading every second of it. First, I’m sorry that you had to deal with it all on your own for such a long time. It’s never easy to know if you’re telling the truth about your own body or not. Second, I actually just got diagnosed with adhd too, and let me just say. It was not easy to hear, but it finally allowed me to accept the way my body and brain were reacting. For the last couple years, I have never really been able to put it into words, but you did it perfectly. Not only did you connect phenomenology with the way your brain is “supposed to think” and then how it actually does, but I think you could even talk about how there could be discussion on how when an anxiety attack is happening there’s almost that mind/body split reaction. At least that’s how it feels for me.
This was an interesting read. COVID definitely has changed people and society in many ways that has completely changed their lifestyle. You’d think everything would be back to normal, but in reality, it could change up your whole life.
Fellow ADHDer here. Executive dysfunction is awful!! It’s so hard to shake off the thought that we’re just being lazy, or not trying hard enough. And there’s no such thing as “not being disabled enough” – Everyone is in a different situation, and trying to compare each other like that is never productive or helpful.
“There’s no telling where the diagnoses end and I begin.” Oof, do I feel that. It’s a parallel to the whole embodiment idea. If I am my mind, and I have a mental illness/condition, doesn’t that make it part of me? I think that it’s better to think of things like ADHD as a difference, not a defect. It goes back to the social model of disability – We’d function ‘perfectly’ if society was built for people whose brains worked like ours.
Hi!!
This blog post really resonated with me. As someone with untreated ADHD and Anxiety, Long COVID has truly changed the way my disabilities usually affect my behavior. The struggle to breathe has worsened my anxiety especially on campus. I definitely feel the same kind of brain lag, and the same struggle to speak in coherent sentences. I also developed a stutter along with Long COVID, which has heavily impacted my dyslexia. Long COVID also made me realize that it was causing my other invisible disabilities to be unmanageable.
I’m sorry that Long COVID affected you in that way, because I definitely understand how it feels. However, I’m glad and very happy for you that you were able to start seeing your disabilities as something true and real.
Thank you for bringing up long COVID and the neurological effects it has on folks, as some people still don’t believe it. Which is just horrifying. I had COVID as well, and while I had mild symptoms, the mark is still left on my body. You captured the brain fog and the dazed feeling perfectly, and I am so happy you are receiving help during this. It’s hard, but you really deserve it. Take care!