I did some reflecting on the past six years and how I had gone from #DisabledAndAlone to an advocate, sensitivity editor, and someone comfortable in her own skin. And I credit creativity and the disabled writing community for it!
I spent 2014 in an acute state of fear.
Yeah, I know that seems hyperbolic, but I was quite terrified. The chronic pain I had been experiencing from the neuropathy of fibromyalgia had levelled up to a state where it felt like someone had injected several areas of my body with burning hot, vibrating curling irons. The most relentless spots were at my hips, knees, and ankles. I couldn’t stand for long, and I definitely couldn’t walk for long on my own power. I’d envisioned the writing on the wall—I would probably end up in a wheelchair. The thought of this had brought me to tears often enough. After all, my world as I’d known it would be over, right?
Reflecting back, I feel really bad for Past Me, because she was #DisabledAndAlone. The only information I’d had to go on stemmed from the typical ableist narratives that we internalize…
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