It’s been over a year since I’ve been able to walk unaided. For short distances, I rely on two walking canes, but for almost everything outside of the house, I need my mobility scooter or wheelchair. Despite this, I’ve been denied a disability parking permit time after time, because what I have isn’t common or well understood. And it’s not just the practical side of things that frustrates me—it’s the emotional aspect of feeling like my struggles are invisible.

Having a disability is hard enough to accept. On one hand, you don’t want to be associated with it. But on the other hand, there’s something validating about your environment acknowledging what you’re going through. You’re not lazy, you’re not making it up—you have a disability. Yet when that validation doesn’t come, when I’m told “no” over and over, it’s like the world is telling me my struggles aren’t real.

I’ve tried snapping out of it. I’ve told myself to just walk, to just push through, to ignore the pain. But the truth is, it doesn’t work. No matter how hard I try, my legs just won’t carry me. Something as simple as walking feels impossible, and it makes no sense. I’ve been here before—about a year of this in the past—and I recovered then. But this time, it’s different. No matter how much effort I put in, it’s just not getting better.

What I need now is that reassurance that my struggle is real. I’m grieving my situation, while also fighting to prove its existence. I know it sounds strange, but there’s a deep desire for validation, even from something as cold as a government bureaucracy stamp. As absurd as it is to ask for reassurance from a system, it still hurts when it doesn’t come.

There’s nothing I want more than for everyone to be right—for me to function “normally” again. But right now, I just want to be seen and understood for what I’m going through.