I'm sick. AGAIN. What the fuck, body.

Anyway, I've been thinking a lot about what it means to be disabled, and whether I "deserve" to place myself in that category. I suppose I first started thinking about it through reading blogs of people with disabilities (especially invisible ones), because I identified so much with their stories. Spoon theory? Totally me. Feeling like I have to apologize because I don't have enough energy to do everything? Me. Feeling like I can't win because if I tell people about my problems they'll judge me as inferior/crazy/whatever, but if I don't, they'll wonder why I can't do more? Me.

So I've started to think of it this way: I don't have a disability. There isn't one specific thing that I can point to and say, this makes me less able to live life as others would. But I do identify as disabled.

I have IBS, which means I have dietary restrictions and chronic pain. I have depression and anxiety (which, when they're bad, count as disabilities by themselves). I probably have endometriosis, according to my gynecologist, although I've never been tested. I take medications for these things, which have unpleasant side effects. I have ADD, for which I choose not to take medication.

All of these things, combined, are my disability. Every day, I have to wrestle with at least one, if not all, of these conditions. It doesn't matter which ones, because every day is a struggle.

It's freeing to think of these things as a disability. It means I don't judge myself as harshly when I don't get done everything I wanted to. It means I can stop comparing myself to other people and say I should be as productive and hardworking and robust as everyone else. I can accept my limitations, instead of expecting them to disappear. All of which is making it easier for me to have a positive sense of self, and to stop internalizing the messages I get every day that say I should be different.

(Which is not to say that I suddenly have a great sense of self and never feel bad about myself. But it does give me that option, which makes things easier.)

It feels dangerous to say this. Like the Ability Police are going to come out and say, You don't have it that bad. You're just whining. You just need to try harder. You don't count as disabled because you can still walk, talk, see, hear. How dare you think you have a REAL disability? You're just looking for excuses.

But those voices, whether from me or from other people, just make it harder, not easier, for me to get on with my life.