I have many impairments. I need glasses. I need tasks repeated, written down in planners, reminded of multiple times throughout the day, written in front of me, with a harsh deadline in order to get done. I even had braces, and should be using my long-lost retainer inside a hot-pink case to keep that “aesthetic impairment” in check (sorry to my future dentist). But I don’t think I would have ever considered myself disabled until now that I’m facing mobility issues.
Read more: Dispair / *DespairTo be frank: I still don’t consider myself disabled. I just think the possibility is higher now. I’m older (not too old), and have had incredible stressors placed on my body (an example being COVID in May, as well as the mental stressor of work and a deteriorating friendship) – it’s natural for things to start “falling apart” or “not working as well as they used to”.
But buddy, if you have these impairments – surely you’ve been disabled this entire time! Like, sure, I guess. Except for the fact that my visual and cognitive impairments are the “more manageable” impairments that I face. I have glasses, although I need to go in to update my prescription every few years. I have ADHD, although I need to constantly ensure I can get access to adderall without jumping through ten thousand hoops – not to mention admitting my amphetamine results on drug tests are because of medication, something I am always embarrassed of (another conversation for another day). Mobility impairments aren’t in the same ballpark solely because the “solutions” are less accessible.
In order to check that my ankles are chronically messed up, I have to have routine conversations with my doctor. This means testing out theories of new/different shoes, stretches, exercise plans, and pain medications. Some of which could help, but only for a few periods of time. Others can have no impact whatsoever, or even make my pain worse. Once these are all ruled out, then comes the tests. X-rays. Blood tests. Gait checks. Then the waiting. Then the results. Then the realization, whether good or bad – that I need help. Then the vulnerable accommodations. Begging to be taken seriously, if I was even given the advantage of being taken seriously from the get-go, which not everyone is privileged to. I’m fortunate enough to be working somewhere where the walk from my car and the building isn’t too harsh, but from Parking Lot 29/Walker Apartments (wherever there’s a free commuter spot) to Engineering is absolutely unbearable. So the disability pass – if I even qualify for one – would only be for school, which already feels like a debate that’s waiting to happen: are you really disabled?
That’s when I circle the drain. Is it easier to just accept yourself as impaired, but not disabled? But then, how do you gain accomodations for such impairments? Do you just stick it out, saying it’s not worth it and continue suffering in silence?
Why has society ruined the idea of being disabled?
Unruly Bodies 
Sometimes I do think it seems easier to continue to suffer in silence. I mean, I have gotten this far so would accommodations really help me? They would definitely be nice, but is something being nice enough to deserve them? It can definitely be hard to keep up with all of these things. Even going to doctor’s appointments to explain yourself over and over can be exhausting. There are a lot of factors and I’m not really sure what the answer is, but I do think if it can help it’s worth asking for.
Yeah I have similar opinions tbh. I have impairments. I need glasses, legally I cannot drive without them. I have adhd and I probably could get testing accommodations if I got a diagnosis again, but that seems like a nightmare so I won’t. I have ocd and thats a nightmare to deal with but I’ve gotten better at it. I probably have dysgraphia but I don’t want to diagnosed for it because it just seems like work to get a diagnosis. My asthma absolutely impairs me in a a lot of physical work situations. My allergies are a major impairment that could kill me if I ate the wrong thing.
Yet I don’t think I would label myself as disabled. I would feel as if I were lying if I said it.
Its weird what society has gotten us to internalize.
One of the hardest parts of disability for me is how isolating it is. When no one else around you seems to understand your struggle, it’s lonely. I have some mobility difficulties, and it feels so embarrassing to have to stop every ten feet walking up to my apartment just so I can breathe. But I’ve realized that talking about it — telling people when I’m struggling instead of trying to hide it, and talking to other disabled people about my frustrations — makes disability easier to bear.
Also, tip for the walk back and forth from walker: the library garage has an elevator. It’s slow and kinda creepy, but when I use it I don’t feel like I’m dying by the time I reach the top of the hill, so it’s probably worth it.