Hi, I hope you don't mind this ask, I just kind of- wanted a space to verbalize some of my thoughts on my complicated feelings about my own disability. And, idk, maybe this could resonate with some other people too.
Basically, I've sort of considered myself disabled for a little while, because, well. A disability is something that impacts your ability to function and carry out tasks and activities, and my abilities to do those things is certainly impacted. But I always felt guilty for thinking of myself like that, because most of my struggles felt like they only impacted the things I did for leisure, and it felt like I was being overdramatic. Even now, it still feels weird to call myself disabled, like I'm doing something wrong.
I say all of this because it's set-up to the fact that I recently realized that I have a lot less functioning than I thought I did. I am in school, and I have good grades, which is a large part of why I was dismissing everything. But I realized that I still only take four classes, and they're all decently easy work (as in, the intellectual work I have to put into them isn't particularly high), and yet I still rarely go to a full week of classes and can't do much outside of school once I get home from a school day. I do eat regularly, but that's mostly because I'm lucky enough to still live with my very nice father who's willing to cook for me, and when he's not around, I essentially don't eat food that takes any preparation beyond "open a container".
And. It was a very strange experience to come to this realization, and instead of being saddened by it, feeling happy and lifted up. Instead of being crushed by the weight of things I couldn't do, it felt refreshing to newly recognize how surprisingly short my limits are.
Now that I think on it, I believe I know why I felt that joy. On some level, I'd already known my limits, and loathed everything they kept me from doing, but I'd never really made the mental connection that those limits were due to my disability. In addition, it felt legitimizing to my struggles to realize that there was a deeper reason than I'd thought as to why I struggle despite having an easy life. (Of course, disability isn't the only legitimate reason why someone can struggle, but it's hard to apply things you logically know to your own emotions sometimes)
So. If anyone else is still reading this, I guess what I want to say is that it's okay to be glad that you're disabled, or for your first reaction to realizing that you're disabled/more severely disabled than you'd thought to be joy. It can bring you a sense of validation to finally feel like you have a reason for struggling with things most other people seem to find easy. It isn't selfish, and it isn't just "having an excuse to be lazy" or "invading the space of real disabled people".
thank you for sharing your experience; i relate to this, too. and this kinda reminds me of how i felt about being fat. for the longest time, i felt like i was too fat, and didnt deserve to take up so much space. it lead to me having a really distorted, hateful view of my body.
but once i encountered fat liberationists, many of whom were actually bigger than me, things changed. i saw them be happy and fight back. they taught me to stop blaming myself. the fategories allowed me to see myself in relation to other fat people, instead of skinny people through BMI.
im between small-mid fat, but BMI says im morbidly obese. for a while i thought i was just comforted by the idea that i wasnt as fat as I thought i was, but that felt fatphobic to me. until i realized, it was that i realized i wasn't too much, because none of us (fat people) are. all bodies are different, and that includes size, too.
the comfort ultimately came from finally being able to look at my body and see *me* - not the skinny person i was "supposed to be." i was humanized, as who i really am. in both cases - disability and fatness - its recognizing the reality of our existence that affirms us.