I am not sure if I’d consider myself disabled. To look at me, you would not immediately bear witness to the complications and challenges that arise from living with a neurological disorder such as FND. So, if I don’t look disabled, does that mean I’m not?
As time passes, I have begun to observe the parallels between living through a pandemic and living with a chronic illness. For example, both require you to make adjustments, as well as taking necessary precautions to keep well. Both interrupts and presses pause on life as we knew it. And both require finding a new normal; finding a new way to live when our life suddenly changes in all manner of ways.
Living with chronic illness forces you to become dependent on others for everything. From company to entertainment as well as support in everything from attending hospital appointments, preparing food, and even getting around the house. As the list of what you can no longer do without help becomes longer, it becomes difficult not to feel like a burden.
Flares come and go. And each time that one passes came the hope that it would be the last one. And the desire that never again would I have to utter the words, “This is the worst that I have ever felt in my entire life.” But flares always come back. They would always return, and the hope that had recurred after the flare diminished, disappeared along with it. Yet again, forced to confront the ever-increasing presence of illness and disability in my day-to-day existence. Along with this, is the need to accept the increasing lack of functioning as a part of my life.