Thank you to Danielle for this guest blog, and for sharing your experience with us. You can follow Danielle's blog over on this page.  

The Loneliness of Being Disabled in a Global Pandemic (and How to Tackle It)

Being disabled can often be lonely. Sometimes, there is no escaping that. As cliché as it sounds, I was surrounded by a loving environment as a child, yet always felt so incredibly sad. Despite the best efforts of everyone around me, I could never shake the feeling of being misunderstood. I didn’t know anybody else that used a mobility aid, especially not anybody the same age.

Having Cerebral Palsy is interesting when trying to navigate feelings like this, honestly, since no two people have exactly the same symptoms or level of ability. Therefore, I found it very easy to believe that I was completely alone in these experiences. Destined to never quite find a home in any social situation or live beyond the expectations of other people. Spoiler alert: outside of my family, nobody expected much.

Even now, my medical team refer to me as being “a complex case”. I’ll take that as a compliment. The point, though, is this: these feelings have only been exaggerated by the pandemic. Socialising and feeling part of society is a conscious effort these days, which I don’t always succeed in. More than ever, policymakers share the narrative that my life is inherently less valuable because I am disabled and vulnerable, making it a fight to remember that not everyone shares this opinion.

When I first made the decision to start blogging, it was something of a survival technique. The isolation was really starting to affect my mental stability, so I decided to write about it.

I had never been that vulnerable on the internet before, but it was necessary. I had to shout into the void and hope for the best. In the immediate aftermath of this, non-disabled people from all across my social media began to reach out, offering their friendship. Considering that I have consistently felt invisible in these circles before, it was kind of a big deal, in a good way.

However, I never felt safe enough to accept the offers in-person, so these messages slowly stopped altogether. Restrictions were eased and most people had the privilege of forgetting I suppose. 

Moving forward

For me, life doesn’t look much different at all. I have recently allowed myself to attend physiotherapy appointments and visit my nan’s care home, which is now reporting COVID cases. It’s scary and difficult, friends. But I refuse to let myself spiral. Go back to square one. I don’t deserve that.

So, where do we go from here? In truth, the answer is a very simple one: connect with the disabled community, using platforms like this one. If you can relate to a small part of my story, then take comfort in this quote from a poem called ‘This is Not the End of the World’ by Neil Hilborn:

“whatever you’re feeling right now, there’s a mathematical certainty that someone else is feeling that exact same thing. This is not to say you aren’t special, this is to say thank God you aren’t special”.

I remember how scared I was to make a post in the first support group I found, almost a year ago now. Guess what? Here’s a revelation. It turns out that even if you find people with different disabilities, it doesn’t matter. It’s irrelevant, in these spaces. So many of the feelings are similar regardless, making these conversations an always important and validating reminder that we are not alone. We deserve to live proudly and boldly. Being marginalised is rough, which is exactly why we have to stick together. I believe in you.