Not Your Average Disabled Person
Whether we agree with it or not, there’s a set stereotype for people with disabilities.
In other words, society makes it seem like all impairments can be seen by the naked eye. Let me tell you, that’s far from the truth.
I’m a healthy 20-year-old college student studying what I love at a huge SEC school. On the outside, I look like a normal person. Am I? Not at all.
You wouldn’t know I have had over 15 rounds of physical therapy and six surgeries. I have multiple disabilities, but they’re all connected.
When I was 18, I was diagnosed with Type 3 of Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. EDS is a connective tissue disorder that basically affects almost every part of my body. My nervous system doesn’t work correctly, my joints hurt constantly (if we’re lucky, they’ll dislocate), and comes with an oh-so-fun heart condition.
There are good days and bad days. The good outweighs the bad, but when the bad hits, it hits. I can’t walk, I’m dizzy, and could pass out if I’m standing up. My entire body is in pain and there isn’t anything I can do about it. I just have to wait out the storm, even when I’m in agony.
Because of this I have a Handicap parking, multiple accommodations for school, and an overwhelming list of medications. For a while, my pediatric doctors thought all of my pain growing up was normal. When I got hurt in every sport I played, I was just “clumsy.” We had no idea I was dealing with a life-long chronic illness.
I went to countless doctors who proceeded to tell my mother the same thing: I’m being overdramatic and there’s nothing wrong with me. Growing up with the idea that my disability was all in my head was detrimental. All of my pain was pushed to the side, and because you couldn’t see the pain I was going through, it wasn’t there.
To this day, I get glares when I use my Handicap. I feel like I have to explain myself for using the sacred parking spot. If people heard how my disabilities affected my daily life, they’d understand why I have to use it.
Here’s the thing: I shouldn’t have to explain to others the extent of my disabilities. Just because I’m not constantly in a wheelchair, don’t have physical deformities, and am not older doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to use that spot. Society needs to normalize the fact that people struggle. Invisible illnesses are very real. I shouldn’t be shamed because you can’t physically see my setbacks.
Another example of an unseen struggle I have is highlighted by the pandemic and masking. When I’m outdoors, especially in the heat, the symptoms for my heart condition, PoTS, worsen. I need copious amounts of oxygen to keep myself from passing out. Because of this, wearing a mask outside isn’t an option for me.
Do people see this when I’m walking mask-less? Nope. They assume I’m an irresponsible young adult that doesn’t care about the health of the high-risk. Want to know something? I am the high-risk. If you see someone without a mask, instead of judging, realize there might be a reason they aren’t wearing one.
Chronic pain struggles are real. You can’t see my pain, but it’s always there. Some days I dislocate my shoulder changing my clothes or rolling over in bed. Does anyone see this? Not unless you’re spying on me, which would be weird. In a normal setting I look like your average young adult. My seen symptoms are minimal, and my real battles are invisible.
EDS has affected my life completely. I can’t play sports, I have to watch what I eat, I have to make sure I don’t move my body a certain way so I don’t dislocate, and so much more. I can’t even begin to tell my entire story in one article.
Through the pain and hardships, I’ve become a stronger person. Judgmental stares don’t affect me as much as they used to, but that doesn’t mean I don’t notice them. Realize not everyone fits the stereotypical mold, like myself.
Sincerely, Abbey
Photography: Hannah S.