There are things I’ve dealt with my entire life. The price of being disabled in an ableist world. The little things that are difficult about being me. I’m not used to them.

I’ve been told that I should be thankfully that I’ve never known different. As if that somehow means I don’t realise I’m disabled. As if never being able to look for the things that I want or look after myself. Should mean that I should never want to be able to do those things.

That’s not true.

There are days, or moments, where I would give anything not to be disabled. Where I just wish I could do the things I want to for myself. Where I could just find the things I’m looking for.

It never goes away, not completely. The desire to be free. I guess it’s human nature.

I don’t know that I’ll ever be used to being disabled. All I can tell you is right now that I’m not.