I didn’t set out to have both physical and mental disabilities. It’s not exactly something you see on vision boards between “visit Paris” and “buy a beach house.” But life, in its infinite wisdom (and questionable sense of humor), decided to hand me a two-for-one deal.
Here’s the thing: people think of disability as a single, neat category. You’re either physically disabled or mentally disabled. Many people don’t think of depression or anxiety as disabilities at all. The idea that someone can have more than one disability seems to blow some minds. Like, “Wait—you can be depressed and need a walker?!” Yes. Yes, I can. And I can still outwit you in a debate while sitting down and having a panic attack, thank you very much.
If you’re not familiar with what counts as an invisible disability, the Invisible Disabilities Association has a great breakdown. They explain what qualifies as an invisible disability. They also cover why you might not notice someone’s struggles at first glance.
Having both means my days are a weird mix of body and brain. They do their own thing, often without consulting each other. My joints ache? That’s the physical one. Can’t stop spiraling over whether I accidentally offended someone three years ago? That’s the anxiety. Feel like I’m wearing an emotional lead blanket for no reason? That’s the depression. And sometimes they team up. Pain flare-ups make my anxiety and depression worse. Mental health dips make my physical symptoms worse. It’s the synergy no one asked for.
I navigate the world with a walker in one hand and therapy coping strategies in the other. I’ve learned to measure my energy like it’s a rare currency. I view “rest” not as laziness but as essential maintenance. I’ve also learned that humor helps—a lot. Laughing at the absurdity doesn’t make the challenges disappear, but it makes them easier to carry.
So yes, I have both. No, it doesn’t make me “broken.” It makes me resourceful, persistent, and surprisingly good at finding accessible coffee shops with quiet corners. My body and brain have their quirks, but they’re mine. We’re doing this life thing together, one awkward, walker-assisted, wildly anxious, depressed step at a time.
Your move: If you’ve got one disability, some physical and mental disabilities, or none at all—advocate for accessibility anyway. The world is easier to navigate when we make room for everyone. You never know when you, or someone you love, will need that space.
Need some perspective? Read real-life invisible illness stories or check the CDC’s overview on disability and health to see just how common (and often unseen) these challenges really are.
To explore the mental health side further, NAMI’s mental health resources are a solid starting point. And for anyone curious about legal aspects of disability rights, the ADA National Network provides an explanation. It shows how protections apply to people with invisible conditions, too.
