My Disabilities Do Stop Me

When I was a young adult, I used to say things like, “Yes, I have a disability, but I never let my disability stop me.” I worked twice as hard to make sure it never did. I pushed myself through pain and exhaustion, determined to prove that I could keep up. I smiled through agony and hid how much it cost me, just so I could say I didn’t “let it stop me.”

Later, after my 19th reconstructive surgery just to keep walking, I softened my words. I’d say, “I have a disability, and while I can’t always do things the way everyone else does, I’ll still get it done.” But those “other ways” often meant forcing my body to do things it wasn’t capable of anymore, causing new injuries, flare-ups, and setbacks I pretended didn’t exist.

Now, decades later, after two life-altering battles with cancer, the loss of several internal organs, malnutrition from a chronic GI condition, and spinal damage that leaves me physically fragile, I’ve stopped pretending. I can no longer claim that I can do everything a more able-bodied person can. My medical conditions have completely taken over my life.

My disabilities do stop me. They control when I can shower, walk, eat, talk, and move. They decide if I can work, socialize, or even get out of bed. They’ve taken over parts of my life I once thought I could always control. They have humbled me in ways I never would have imagined.

And you know what? It isn’t giving up.  It isn’t a lack of character.  It isn’t a lack of faith, or courage, or stick-with-it-ness.  It’s honesty, pure and simple.

Telling someone “Don’t let your disability stop you!” isn’t kind. It isn’t encouraging. It’s pressure disguised as support. It erases the truth that some disabilities do stop us. It suggests that the only valuable disabled person is one who keeps producing, achieving, and pretending not to be disabled.

My disabilities do stop me. They always will. They’ve reshaped my life, but they haven’t erased it. They don’t stop me from being human, from loving deeply, from creating meaning in the ways I still can. They haven’t stopped me from finding joy in small places, showing courage, or maintaining resilience through incredibly difficult circumstances.

As my life and abilities continue to change, I keep learning how to adapt. It isn’t easy, and it often brings frustration, confusion, and moments of utter helplessness. But each time I rebuild, I’m reminded that strength isn’t about defying my limits, it’s about living honestly within them.

True resilience isn’t pretending nothing can stop you. It’s finding purpose, grace, and self-worth even when something does.