Summer Semester, Self-Worth & Slaying the Hydra

This semester has been intense.

To be fair, summer semesters always are. They condense enormous amounts of work into a shorter space of time and expect you to keep pace. It is, as they say, the nature of the beast.

But I think that intensity has exposed something else that I've been carrying around for a very long time.

Internalised ableism.

I realise now that this is partly why it has taken me so long to write a blog post.

I've been standing at a crossroads.

Do I pursue what I truly want? The thing that genuinely excites me, inspires me and could lead to a sustainable future? Or do I take the road more travelled and settle for an "easier life" simply because other people would prefer not to put accommodations in place or do the inclusivity checks they proudly claim to champion? The fact remains, I do not thrive in a distance learning situation. I love where I am at right now, and couldn't be more in love with this subject. The disability reforms in the media currently being parroted as a new money-saving tactic though leaves a bad taste in the mouth when thinking of all the people who have never had a chance to even try something new, and will suddenly be thrust into the wild with no solutions, and no supports. The safety net is being cut from underneath, holes are being cut into the net, so more people slip through. 

Every disabled person, at some point, hears the same messages over and over again.

"Other people have it worse."

"It's not that bad."

"You'll be fine."

"If you were a little more obedient..."

"If you were a little less visible..."

"Lots of people with disabilities accept that they can't do what they want in life..." 

"What makes you better than other disabled people? Are they complaining?..." 

"Maybe you're just arrogant..." 

"Thinking you're capable of anything is just toxic positivity..." 

The underlying message is often the same: if disabled people could simply make themselves smaller, perhaps others wouldn't have to make adjustments.

It is an exhausting burden to carry.

The irony is that university has taught me something entirely different.

It has given me a voice.

It has taught me self-worth.

Whilst there are still days when I need more reassurance than I would like, I have learned that perhaps the bravest sentence I have ever spoken in my entire life is this:

"I need help."

There is extraordinary courage in that.

I could not be more grateful for the understanding I have received as a result of saying those three words.

The problem is that once you have experienced being treated like a person, it becomes increasingly shocking when you encounter environments that do the opposite.

Suddenly, asking for the bare minimum is treated as though you are asking for the stars in the sky.

You are made to feel greedy.

Demanding.

Difficult.

When, in reality, all you are asking for is an equal opportunity to succeed.

All I want is a second chance.

A fresh start.

A career that is sustainable for my health.

I have seen people well into their eighties, with their own health challenges, working in the very career I dream of pursuing. It is entirely possible.

Yet systems have an uncanny ability to accuse disabled people of making excuses whilst simultaneously shutting them out of opportunities.

That contradiction is one of the biggest barriers we face. Many disabled people find themselves navigating contradictory messages. They are encouraged to pursue education and employment whilst simultaneously encountering barriers that make those pathways more difficult to access. Be ambitious, and do not be lazy, but do not be too ambitious... Know your place. 

Although, if I am being honest, sometimes the biggest thing holding me back is me.

That is perhaps the most uncomfortable truth of all.

The current political discourse on social media surrounding disability benefits has not helped either. It is genuinely frightening to watch. I had to delete apps that connected me to outside, and to friends, off of my phone, and this year has been precarious at best for some of my friendships... Comment sections are growing increasingly disgusting, and what a time to be alive if you love History!... 

There seems to be a growing narrative that disabled people are somehow burdensome for needing support, whilst barriers to employment and education remain firmly in place.

The message can begin to feel absurdly circular.

You are blamed if you need support.

You are discouraged from pursuing education.

You are told not to ask for accommodations.

Then, if opportunities disappear as a result, somehow that too becomes your fault.

But if you do not try, you are lazy and a scrounger. 

You must do something, but not too well. 

Do something, but not by asking for accommodations. 

Get support, but not government-backed support, that is for scroungers. (It really isn't.)

Get a job. 

Do not get a good job, know your place. 

Try hard. 

Don't try too hard, that's false positivity. 

Be stoic, but be approachable. 

That is a cycle I am actively trying to break.

The strangest thing is that there are authority figures in my life who believe in me. Figures of knowledge, respect, and genuine experts in their fields of work at that university. Pushing me, encouraging me, and this has been hard to hear, but I am grateful!. I want to do more! I want to continue for my inner child, for me. They're not voices to ignore... They're not telling me to quit, to slow down, to stop, to accept things as they are, and brace myself for the worst case scenarios... They're : 

People who tell me to go for it.

People who push me to achieve.

People who say, "You can do this."

And that, oddly enough, can be terrifying.

Because then the imposter syndrome arrives.

Then the internalised ableism.

Then the anxiety.

Before long, you have a fully-grown Hydra on your hands.

Cut one head off and three more appear.

"Am I capable enough?"

"Am I well enough?"

"Am I asking for too much?"

"Am I being unrealistic?"

"What if the measures I ought to file for, turn out not to be real and instead are performative?" 

"Am I likeable enough to matter when my chronic illness slows me down?"

It is exhausting.

But I am getting there.

Slowly.

I am improving.

And perhaps that is enough for now.

One of my modules this semester focused on a historical period I had never studied before. I genuinely thought I would scrape a pass.

Instead, I received a mark that was ten points higher than I expected.

I had completely overthought it.

If anything, it taught me a valuable lesson.

Sometimes, more isn't more.

Sometimes, pushing harder is not the answer.

Sometimes, trusting yourself is.

Perhaps that is the lesson I am trying to learn this year.

I do not need to earn my place by suffering.

I do not need to apologise for needing support.

I do not need to shrink myself so that systems can remain comfortable.

I simply need the same thing everyone else does.

A chance.

And maybe, after all these years, I am finally beginning to believe that I deserve one.



With my heart, 

Clare Alexandra 💟