A Love Letter to My Disability

It’s Valentine’s Day, which means that it’s time for me to be extra vulnerable on the internet again. I have always hated my disability and the way that it leads other people to perceive me. I have also spent an embarrassing amount of time crying over people that cancelled dates with me, after deciding that the prospect of future caring responsibilities was too much to handle. The damage that these experiences have inflicted is too heavy for words to properly convey. It has left me unable to trust in anything good. I’m constantly waiting for it to go wrong. Allowing myself to sit in the happiness for too long just feels dangerous and naive. I am notoriously bad at playing the field, so only have the emotional energy for one person at a time. If I have ever attempted to flirt with you in any way, please know that you are blessed and I am still shocked by the idea that you might have fancied me, however briefly.

Here’s the truth: I was about nine or ten when I burst into tears in the middle of an appointment to mould new splints for my legs, just because the man made some joke about all of the attention that I’d receive on Valentine’s Day. Every February, the words: “that’s never going to happen. Nobody’s ever going to love me because I’m disabled” sit at the forefront of my brain on an endless loop. I was heartbroken and am still trying to unlearn those negative internalisations.

With that said, this is a love letter because I’m learning to be grateful. Before my brother met his long-term girlfriend, there was more than one occasion where women would lose interest in him after finding out about his disabled sister. I really, really wish that I was joking. But this bullshit is a good thing, which is something that I have been trying to remind myself every day. Although impossibly painful for everyone, it is the purest of blessings. I don’t need that ableism in my life, anyway. I am determined to have more self-respect than that. I am worth more than someone that doesn’t see how beautifully radiant a life with me could be. I deserve to hold onto the connections that feel mutually good and healthy, which I’m trying to focus on now. Maybe there is something on the horizon, who knows? My heart is open to the possibility.

A few days ago, Lucy Dawson tweeted me back and called me beautiful. It was a passing comment and she has probably forgotten about it completely now, but it meant the entire world to me. For those that are unaware, she’s a pretty big deal within the disability community. She has been very influential in teaching me that disabled isn’t synonymous with unsexy. It is possible to feel attractive in a body that does not look the same as everyone else’s. I have even bought myself some new bras for the first time in two years, after my sense of self became so distorted that looking in the mirror was genuinely painful. These may sound like small steps, but I’m trying really hard.

a screenshot of a Tweet from Lucy Dawson that reads “good morning beautiful twitter ppl. I am sending you this GOOD MORNING TEXT because no-one sends me them and we could all do with one. SEND ME ON[E] BACK. Added smiles if you call me beautiful”. Danielle’s reply reads “good morning, beautiful lady !!!! you have a gorgeous soul & I hope that today is bright for you (red heart emoji)”. Lucy replies “GOOD MORNING BEAUTIFUL ONE (red heart emoji)”.
Do I have this screenshot saved on my phone so that I can read it before I get out of bed every morning? NATURALLY.

To the reader, if you don’t know much about this stuff, that’s okay. You can learn here and here. If you are disabled, single and feeling shit about yourself for it: know that I’m on the journey with you. You are whole. Falling in love with a disabled person will never be a burden, now or ever. My disability is not all that I am — I am a wonderful person and anyone would be LUCKY to date me. Repeat until believed.

Céline, you are the realest one. I appreciate the pep talks more than you know. Hannah, thank-you for reading this before I made it public because I was too nervous and insecure. I am beyond grateful that your friendship exists in my life. xoxo

Learning to Love My Disabled Identity

For so many years, I thought that the key to survival was to run away from my disability, even if only emotionally. I thought that being known as the disabled girl would define my whole sense of self, ensuring that nobody cared about anything else. However, actively pretending that it doesn’t exist only served to send me into a spiral of self-hatred. Once this had begun, it was impossible to escape from and has constantly haunted the edges of my brain for almost a decade, if not longer. However, things have finally started to change over the past couple of days. It is like a dark fog has been lifted, simply from refusing to hide anymore and believing that I am capable of better.

Firstly, I learned that this blog has been viewed over one thousand times already. My weird little blog. If we know each other well enough to be connected on social media, then you probably already know that part. Truthfully, my head is still spinning. It is so difficult to comprehend how so many people care about reading my story, however briefly. My voice has always just felt pretty invisible, you know? It has often been like screaming into the void with nobody to hear. I can’t remember a time where I didn’t feel like a disappointing disabled person because I had nothing especially remarkable to offer the world. However, hitting this milestone proves my stupid brain wrong. It makes me feel like the possibilities are endless, although that probably won’t last long. Still, maybe my existence doesn’t have to be entirely mundane after all. For example: generally, I hate talking about my career prospects because writing has always felt like home for me, but I have always worried that I’m not good enough for it to be achievable. Now, for the first time, there is a glimmer of hope. For the first time ever, I am actually proud of myself. Can you believe it?! If you are reading this, you have collectively changed my life and I’m never going to be able to repay you.

Then, I posted on a disability support group and requested friends in a similar situation. I have never done anything like that before because the idea of being so vulnerable makes me feel physically sick, but I was so horribly alone and sad. Being young and disabled can be horribly lonely and sad — that’s the unfortunate reality. Frankly, I had expected to be completely ignored. At this point in time, it really didn’t feel like I mattered very much at all. Instead, over two-hundred people responded. Over two-hundred wonderful and warm human beings from around the world shared their stories with me, opening their hearts up to a friendship. I still haven’t been able to message all of them properly in the way that I would like, simply because there are not enough hours in the day. Even so, it has felt like I have been floating on a happy little cloud ever since. Until this moment, I had never before been embraced so tightly for my differences. Collectively, these people have saved me in ways that I’ll never fully be able to articulate. I’m still not completely convinced that I deserve each and every one of their beautifully kind gestures, but I’m determined to earn them. Their unconditional acceptance has allowed me to begin extending myself the same courtesy and it so deeply liberating. Being disabled can be a beautiful thing, too.

Also today, I received my first vaccine against COVID-19. I haven’t left the house much at all in the past year, so I was really very anxious about this whole process, but it all went smoothly. Since the pandemic first began, I have wanted to crawl outside of my own skin and be someone else. Anyone else. I deeply resented having to take so many extra steps in order to simply stay alive, so this feels like the beginning of brighter days. As a side note: my favourite mental health YouTuber has now acknowledged my existence on Twitter twice, so it feels like I have made it. Kidding, but still.

A woman (Danielle, the author of this blog) is smiling in the car and wearing a seatbelt. She is wearing glasses, a red jacket and black vest. She has messy hair but she doesn’t care.
This bitch got vaccinated: a picture taken after my appointment.

In short, I am not completely comfortable as a disabled young woman yet. I want to feel attractive and confident, so there is more work to be done. But representation is important to that process, so I’m going to continue to write until the world has changed for the better. I might even start a YouTube channel. Maybe. If I can get over my fear of the camera. But probably not. If you want to help me on this journey, please sign my gorgeous friend’s petition for a film with a disabled Disney princess here and don’t watch Sia’s new film ever. Give disabled actors the roles of disabled characters and don’t be a dick xoxo

PS: an extra special shout-out to my pals Imogen, Sophie, Céline and Jasmine. You will have a piece of my heart forever.