TW: ableism, self-harm

Disability imposter syndrome is strange. I’ve been living with it since I was a little kid, and yet I still find it difficult (and oddly embarrassing?) to discuss, particularly with abled people. I was first diagnosed with ADHD, Anxiety, and mild Depression in elementary school. My mom arranged for me to have academic accommodations, much to my classmates’ dismay. They didn’t understand why a person like me, who seemed perfectly capable, got “special treatment.” But they didn’t have to worry about that for long: once middle school rolled around, I was denied accommodations because ‘I could pass my classes without them.’ In my school’s eyes, I wasn’t disabled unless I was failing. Being 12 years old, I believed them. When my symptoms got worse, I told myself it was all my fault. Overdramatic, lazy, stupid, annoying: my personality was the reason I was suffering, surely. After all, if I wasn’t cutting or having panic attacks or flunking my classes, I wasn’t disabled. 

Even back then, I realized those thoughts weren’t healthy. But I couldn’t help feeling like I wasn’t disabled enough to count. Sometimes I still do. 

About five months ago, I was recovering from my second bout of COVID, and I never really got 100% better. I figured the residual effects would go away after a few weeks like they did the first time, but they didn’t. I still struggle on and off with intense brain fog, chronic fatigue, breathing problems, and a slew of other symptoms. I, like so many others, am suffering with Long COVID, a diagnosis that is essentially a giant question mark. My doctors are hopeful it will go away on its own, as it has for some, but they really just don’t know. I could wake up tomorrow and be fine, or I could be like this forever. 

Sometimes I wonder if it’s all in my head. On bad days, I feel embarrassed by my inability to execute basic tasks and frustrated because I know the tasks should be easy. On good days, I find myself torn between the fear of another flare up and the fear that people will think I was faking it all along. Even to myself, I question the validity of my experience; I recently had to lean on a wall to catch my breath after a short walk, and I remember thinking to myself “I’m being so dramatic.” I was alone in an elevator.

That insecurity of being overdramatic, the fear of not being able to trust yourself, the belief that you’re “not disabled enough” to count — that is disability imposter syndrome at its finest. But I’m learning to fight it, to forgive myself for my limitations, to treat myself with compassion, and to advocate for myself because I am worthy of support.