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July 4, 2017

I’ve had to talk about my illnesses a lot lately.

It feels like every day a different person asks me a question about myself that requires me to at least mention my diagnoses. And maybe I’ve just been a little sensitive lately, but each time, I notice their facial expression change and their tone of voice alter.

I was walking from the metro to work one morning, contemplating all of these interactions when I had the thought, “is something wrong with me? Am I a complete human being? Am I less than?”

I haven’t thought this way since I’ve been diagnosed, but for some reason, the last few days have got me wondering.

Maybe it’s the condescending, “hmm” when I mention one of my surgeries or the tightening of lips when I say I’m going through continued tests.

This thought didn’t come as an earthquake shaking the foundation of myself, but rather as if I had thought, “is it going to rain today?”

Does having a disability make me less of a person?

I don’t know the answer.

Obviously, I want to say “no, of course not.” But I don’t feel normal and don’t know that I ever will. And I live in an able bodied world. We’re beginning to account for diversity, but all of the articles I see raving about our inclusivity on Buzzfeed account for race, ethnicity, gender, and socioeconomic status, but never disability. Even in inclusive spheres, I don’t see my whole self as represented, so what does that make me?

Where do I fit in? How do I fit in? Do I want to fit in?

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