Disabled Doesn't Mean Invisible

After writing my blog about the duality of community and loneliness, I found myself thinking about another aspect of disability that I don't think gets talked about enough: feeling invisible.

The reality is that becoming disabled doesn't just change what you can physically do. It changes the way people interact with you too. Sometimes that change is positive. People can be incredibly kind, supportive and understanding. I've found a wonderful community online full of people who genuinely understand what it's like to navigate life with a chronic illness or disability. The support I've received from strangers on the internet has often been overwhelming in the best possible way.

At the same time, there are moments when I feel as though I've quietly faded into the background of other people's lives.

One thing I've noticed is how accessibility can sometimes make people hesitate to include disabled people. I don't think it comes from a place of malice. In fact, I think most of the time it comes from people trying to avoid making us feel uncomfortable. They worry a venue won't be accessible, that there will be too much walking involved, or that we won't be able to participate in whatever activity they're planning.

The problem is that sometimes those worries mean we're not invited at all.

What many people don't realise is that being invited and being able to attend are two completely different things. I might have to say no. My health might not cooperate. The venue might genuinely be inaccessible. But there is a huge difference between having to decline an invitation and never being given the choice in the first place.

I think that's where some of the loneliness of disability comes from. It isn't always about being physically alone. Sometimes it's the feeling that life is carrying on around you while you're watching from the sidelines. Friends make plans, people go places, opportunities come and go, and you can't help but wonder if people stopped asking because they assumed the answer would be no.

The other day I found myself feeling exactly that way. I was thinking about how much my life has changed over the last few months and how much extra planning, preparation and accessibility consideration every outing now requires. There was a moment where I felt frustrated that things which seem so simple for many people have become so complicated for me.

But after sitting with those feelings for a while, I realised something important.

Whilst disability has changed many aspects of my life, it hasn't made me invisible.

I see it in the friends who still check in on me. I see it in the people who ask what I need rather than making assumptions on my behalf. I see it in the disabled community that has welcomed me with open arms and reminded me that my experiences are shared by so many others. I see it every time someone takes a moment to read my blog, leave a comment or send a message saying they relate to something I've written.

My life looks very different now than it did a year ago, and there are still days where I grieve that. There are still days where the loneliness feels heavier than usual. But there are also days where I am reminded that inclusion doesn't always look the way we expect it to.

Sometimes it's an invitation. Sometimes it's a message asking how you're doing. Sometimes it's someone taking the time to learn about accessibility. Sometimes it's simply being remembered.

If there's one thing I hope people take away from this, it's that disabled people don't stop wanting connection just because our needs have changed. We still want to be included. We still want to be considered. We still want to feel like we belong.

Disabled doesn't mean invisible. It simply means the world may need to make a little more room for us, and we deserve that space just as much as anyone else. 

Thank you for reading,

Faeryn

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