But I’m Okay

I’m not disabled. At least, that’s an easy leap for my brain to make. I have all of my digits and limbs, I don’t need help getting around, and if anything my eyesight and hearing are a little too good for my own good. I can manage just fine in life, so there’s no reason to call myself disabled.

If anyone’s upset reading that statement, don’t worry. I don’t like it either. Largely because it’s not true, but also because I have this thought far too often for my liking.

I think we’ve all convinced ourselves to a degree that if we’re “managing” or “getting by,” we don’t have an issue that needs addressing. Yeah, I’m a little stressed and tired, but who isn’t these days? Have you seen the economy lately? Who wouldn’t be anxious? Everyone feels this way, so I can just suck it up. It’ll get better eventually.

To clarify something, I got diagnosed in 2022 with OCD, ADHD, and General Anxiety disorder. So, long story short – I’m constantly worried something may be wrong, but I’ve forgotten what it is, but I have to keep thinking about it until I remember because otherwise the world will end. That’s not entirely encompassing of my issues, but it describes them well enough for this context.

When I was old enough to understand, I found out I had Dyslexia. I don’t remember who told me, I think it was my mom. The reason I didn’t list that up above was because I grew up knowing this fact. As far back as I could remember, I was “special” and a little different, and that wasn’t a bad thing. It was just a way for me to understand the quirks and struggles I had when dealing with the rest of the world. After the initial school struggles, I didn’t even really notice my issues. I wasn’t struggling any more than anyone else, so clearly I wasn’t disabled.

Then my dog died. I know, kind of an abrupt turn there. I got Claire for my tenth(?) birthday, and she was my best friend. While I had problems making friends, or was confused about things in my life that made no sense, I had Claire. My little snuggle buddy who loved me, and I loved her. I think she was the thing I found the most support, comfort, and unfiltered love from in the world.

I had always had issues (because that’s how disabilities work, obviously), but I think losing Claire was the beginning of one of the worst downward spirals of my life. It wasn’t immediate, and was intensified by a lot of physical and emotional stress at that time. Still, I lost my best friend and coping mechanism. Not to mention all of the grief I now had to process. It was sort of like someone took my umbrella away in a rainstorm, and dumped a bucket of water on my head instead.

There was more involved in the summer of 2022 that I don’t want to get into right now, but I think you get the backstory well enough. All of this meant the undiagnosed, unmedicated conditions I had were fighting against me. I started self isolating. I cried more. I couldn’t focus. I would ask my family for help with the intrusive thoughts and worries in my head, then lash out at them when my brain made up something new instead.

I had an idea that I might have ADHD for years leading up to that, but an actual anxiety disorder or OCD had never really occurred to me. At least, not in a way that they would apply here. All I knew was that these thoughts and worries were genuinely ruining every relationship I had, threatening my job, and even my physical wellbeing. I couldn’t eat because my anxiety gave me so much adrenaline that I didn’t feel hungry. The idea of eating made me feel sick. I lost a lot of weight that summer, but without actually taking care of myself in any healthy way. My blood sugar was constantly low, which made the brain fog so bad that my thoughts and worries made even less sense.

In short: struggling with my undiagnosed, untreated issues left me incapable of living. They disabled me.

Thankfully, I started seeing a therapist in August of that year. Working with her and my doctor, I got properly diagnosed, and given the medication and counseling I needed to get out of my destructive mindset. I found joy and peace in things again, and for the first time in my life was able to do things like sit on the couch without intrusive thinking telling me something I was doing was wrong, or go get my hair cut without worrying my stylist might judge me for the kinds of things I might say. Getting to the lowest point in my life helped me realize just how much every day struggle I was dealing with.

It was really weird to be officially diagnosed, and on medication, though. I knew this was common, and didn’t feel judgement or shame about it at all. In fact, I was elated to feel the best I ever had, and everyone important to me has only ever been kind and accepting about it. No, what felt weird to think about was that I, a physically healthy and completely capable adult, am disabled.

I think one problem comes in the fact that we often refer to these conditons (ADHD, OCD, Autism, etc.) as disorders, not disabilities. They’re something wrong with your head, not something that impacts your every day life. You can’t look at someone and know they struggle with their mind the same way they struggle with a missing arm or breathing issues. It becomes deceptively easy to hold yourself and others to the same level as “healthy” people, because your struggles feel invalid compared to others.

This all got brought to the front of my brain when I saw a thing from my work talking about how July is “Disability Pride Month.” A month meant to bring awareness to peoples’ struggles, and make them feel seen, supported, and understood. I wondered for a second if I was allowed to participate. Maybe I wasn’t the kind of disabled they had in mind.

Then I remembered that when it comes to understanding and supporting, there is no difference between a mental or physical disability. Even if you look “normal” and “fine,” you deserve to be helped and treated. Don’t put off talking to your doctor or a therapist, even if you have to ask help from someone you trust to get it done. You deserve better than simply living with your symptoms.

As for me? Hi. I’m Ema, and I’m disabled because I am neurodivergent. I don’t look like it, but I have struggles every day that i need help dealing with. Some days I’m perfectly fine, and some days I’m barely holding it together. But I’m okay.