How to Choose Joy and Thrive with a Disability: A Practical Guide
There was a time when I could barely whisper the word disabled about myself. It felt like I didn’t qualify—like I was crashing a party I wasn’t invited to. Sure, I need crutches sometimes, have an electric wheelchair folded in my coat closet for bad days, and occasionally sport a neck brace because my head thinks it’s too good to stay upright. But hey, there are people with far bigger challenges than mine, right?
Forget the daily neck pain, or the fact that my body’s collagen is about as reliable as a politician’s promise. Disabled? Me? Pfft.
Ah fuck. I am disabled, aren’t I? My therapist nodded.
Once I came to terms with that, it was time to move on to bigger and better things, like learning to accept my lot in life.
Living with disabilities isn’t about suiting up for battle every day, trying to defeat your body like it’s some villain in a Marvel movie.
Spoiler alert: you are your body, so if anyone’s getting taken down, it’s you—and frankly, who has the energy for that?
Instead, it’s about learning how to call a truce, figuring out how to live alongside this quirky, unpredictable body (or brain) of yours, and maybe even learning to laugh at some of its more ridiculous quirks. Yes, my joints might have the stability of a Jenga tower mid-game, but hey, at least I’ve got a good story to tell.
And let’s be real: trying to keep up with able-bodied or neurotypical folks is like signing up for a marathon when your knees forgot how to do “run” years ago. It’s not happening, and honestly, that’s okay.
The goal here isn’t to win some imaginary competition. It’s about creating a life that feels good for you—one that lets you thrive on your terms, even if that includes a nap (or three) and a creative workaround for carrying groceries. Forget keeping up; let’s focus on showing up for ourselves, in whatever way that looks today.
Easier said than done, amiright? So, let’s break it down.
Step 1: Acknowledge the Struggle
Pretending the struggle doesn’t exist doesn’t make it any less real. Hate to break it to ya. What’s more? Thinking you’re somehow going to “beat” your disabilities is absurd. They ain’t goin no where and neither are you if you don’t let that shit go.
Some people are born with disabilities, others acquire them along the way. I’ve had mine forever, but I didn’t know it for a long time. I grew up being gaslighted about my lived experiences, and in turn, gaslighted myself. “Suck it up, kid. You’ll be fine.” I heard that a lot. I internalized it.
So, when I learned I wouldn’t actually “be fine,” when I learned both my hips needed to be replaced before I hit 30, and then about a genetic disorder that has been causing a ruckus in my body my entire life, it was like being side swiped and validated all at once. “I FUCKING TOLD YOU SO” I wanted to shout at myself, my parents, doctors – anyone who invalidated me for decades.
My grieving process started long before I recognized it. It started when I was young and my knees hurt so bad I’d cry alone in my childhood bedroom. It started when my menstrual cramps were so bad I couldn’t breathe. It was a constant companion I learned to live alongside but had no name for.
It wasn’t until much later, after my hips went bad, and after I finally got my Ehlers-Danlos diagnosis that my productive grieving process began. Let’s do a quick run down of the stages of grief, just in case you aren’t familiar.
Grief:
Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance
We cycle through the first four stages a lot before we finally land on acceptance. Unfortunately, it’s common to get stuck in those first four stages for a long, long time, and it’s a miserable existence.
Reaching acceptance is the only way to create a life for yourself that doesn’t involve your entire personality becoming about your disability. And trust me, having your entire personality become your disability is miserable for you and for the people who love you.
But, Ronni, how do I reach acceptance of something that makes me so angry and depressed?
OMG I’m so glad you asked!
Step 2: The How-to Guide to Acceptance
First of all, acceptance isn’t about giving up. It’s about letting go of unrealistic expectations and comparisons. Not just comparing yourself to other people, but to an old version of yourself.
Choosing to accept this hand you’ve been dealt will shift your focus from what you can no longer do, to what you can do. And, as someone with a dynamic disability - meaning my abilities differ day-to-day, I get this can be a challenge.
I had to give up a decade-long career as a hairstylist because my body could no longer handle it. I didn’t finish college. What the hell was I qualified to do? Well, I decided I’d give being a life coach a go, so I joined a coach training program and threw myself in. As it turned out, while I was a pretty legit coach, I didn’t love it. What I did love was the shit most people hate - building websites, setting up tech and automations, copywriting, social media strategy… things I quickly learned I could teach myself and in turn, have people pay me to do for them.
Even better? I could work from anywhere and on whatever schedule I chose. If I hadn’t tried coaching, I may not have figured this all out. My new role gave me a sense of purpose. It isn’t easy to choose to work for yourself, and it’s not for everyone, but the lesson here isn’t to become an entrepreneur, it’s to let yourself try something new. New behaviors = new results.
Finding new hobbies was harder. I’ve always been very physically active. I loved running. I loved lifting heavy weights and seeing how far I could push myself. Long, difficult hike? Let’s do it. Trampoline park? Hell yeah. Rollercoasters? I grew up on em’. I love an adventure, especially one that’s going to leave me blissfully exhausted by the end of the day.
My body isn’t really into all that anymore. So, I’ve tried a lot of different things since then. Learning to create digital art turned into a whole ass business selling vinyl stickers and shirts. Oops, entrepeneurs gonna entrepeneur.
I taught myself how to crochet. I went through a friendship bracelet phase. I started a podcast, recorded 10 episodes and stopped. I bought a bunch of clay and accidentally made a vulva and then made more and sold them all. I walked a lot. I bought a balance board. I bought some flow ropes. I took swim classes at the local Y with a bunch of Boomers. I read a lot of books. I started doing yoga, and recently started giving aerial hoop and aerial silks a try. I could go on, but I’m hoping you see a trend here – I just keep trying shit. Does it all stick? Of course not. But I’m always entertained. It all gives me a sense of purpose and trying things is an adventure in and of itself.
You cannot and will not reach acceptance if you don’t recognize that you’re in this disability thing for good and you need to redefine who you are if you want to take back any semblance of control.
Sometimes I push myself too far and spend the following week sleeping in late and then napping every day. Sometimes I push myself right into a flare-up and I’m all pain meds and ice packs for a few days. Sometimes I know doing something is going to put me in that state, but I do it anyway. I try not to make it a habit, but it’s a choice I make. Sometimes I still find myself feeling a little depressed about my situation, but it doesn’t last long, because I know what acceptance feels like, and I know how to get myself back there. Which, leads me to our next step.
Step 3: Choose Joy Every Damn Day
Joy isn’t automatic – it’s an intentional choice. Even in this shit pile of a world we live in, there are a hundred reasons you can find every single day to be joyful.
My brother’s family has a nightly ritual called “Gratefuls.” Everyone shares three things they’re thankful for that day. It’s simple but wildly effective. It forces you to pause and find joy, even on the hardest days.
Try it. Write them down, say them out loud, or rope your loved ones into the practice. Reflect on them weekly. Whole-ass it. Half-assing doesn’t count.
I might be physically disabled and neurodivergent, and those things might make my life exponentially harder than my able bodied, neurotypical counterparts, but I also have a whole hell of a lot to be grateful for. I’m alive and breathing. I have an incredible wife. I have best friends who I adore. I have a Nintendo Switch and my little Animal Crossing island. I live in a world with Indian food, and mushroom coffee. Stuffed animals and comfort items that make me feel all warm and fuzzy. Smell good things. Luxurious face cream. MUSIC! OMG MUSIC! Impromptu, gentle dance parties alone in my room. Occasional travel! Long aimless drives around the countryside. Schitt’s Creek and all the other shows I love! A vast online community who I interact with every day. Walks around the park. MY GOD! So many things to find joy in!
Make a choice to find joy or be miserable. It’s your choice.
Step 4: Live your Best Life with the Cards You’ve Been Dealt
You have to redefine what your “best life” looks like. This isn’t what you wanted. I get it. Nobody wants to be disabled, nobody chooses it, but to hyperfocus on getting “back” to something, rather than moving forward to finding something new, is an exercise in futility.
Honoring your needs as a disabled person is empowering. We live in an ableist world. We all have an inner ableist. Choosing to rest when you need rest, is taking back power. Not being angry about needing that extra rest is top tier winning. Choosing to use mobility aids to help preserve your energy? Whoa there buddy, slow down with all those empowering choices, we can’t keep up! Get tired easily while grocery shopping? They make those power carts for a reason, pal. Use one. Feel stupid using one? It’s because your inner ableist is rearing its ugly little head. Go ahead and show it who’s boss.
Thinking you can cure your disability is dumb, especially if it’s clear there is no cure. It’s a good way to get stuck. Choosing to accept the cards you’ve been dealt and do what needs to be done to live alongside them, that’s how you win.
Step 5: Always Return to Acceptance
This is not a one-and-done process. You’re going to have to have to return to acceptance again and again and again. It’s a practice. Some days it will be easier than others. Living alongside disabilities means grieving, accepting, and choosing joy over and over again.
At the end of the day, the cards you’ve been dealt might not be the shiny, perfect hand you imagined, but they’re yours—and you’ve got the power to play them like a pro. Sure, maybe you’ve got a few jokers in there (looking at you, chronic pain and ADHD), but they don’t define your happiness or your ability to live a fulfilling life. You do. You get to decide what joy looks like, how you define success, and what makes your life meaningful. So go ahead—embrace the messy, imperfect, beautiful version of life that’s uniquely yours. Because if anyone can take these cards and create something amazing, it’s you.
