Hidden disabilities, you are not alone.

I have been on struggle street again this week. Balancing teaching, blogging, book writing and keeping the family alive is a challenge most days, on epilepsy days it feels like an impossible challenge and, quite frankly, I am just thankful we all made it to the weekend with no injuries or fatalities despite the constant cries of “I'm starving”. I am also thankful for Asda delivery!  

I have no doubts that I will walk down struggle street again sometime soon, and by soon, I mean in the next week. Nobody wants to be on struggle street. It’s a crap place to be and I have zero intentions of packing up my bags and becoming a permanent resident, however, it is a road I travel down frequently but by doing so I have realised something important. Struggle street is also a diverse street. Thousands of people, with numerous hidden disabilities, walk down struggle street every day. When you are struggling, it is so easy to allow yourself to feel alone. It is natural to feel like nobody else in the world understands, especially when they cannot see what it is you feel. The truth, however, is you ARE NOT ALONE. The person sitting opposite you on the train each morning may be on struggle street, the woman serving you in the supermarket may also be on struggle street.  

By their very nature hidden disabilities are not visible. The only way to help people understand them and to find out for yourself that this journey is not one you are taking alone, is to talk about it.  

I work with a rather wonderful lady called Jodie. She has a hidden disability, she talks about it, shares information about her condition on Facebook and is one of the few people in my life that I feel really understands how the bad days feel, even though our disability is not the same. Now for any men reading this that are squeamish when it comes to the workings of the female body, firstly, get a grip, secondly, if you really can’t manage to get a grip and welcome your mind into the real world, you may want to skip the rest of this paragraph. Jodie has endometriosis. I cannot imagine the pain she goes through on an almost daily basis. I moan every time my period arrives. To be honest, so does everyone else in this house because they get the delights of my PMT for a solid five days. Nothing says I am hormonal than snapping your teens head off because he is chewing his cereal too loudly! I don’t even want to imagine the pain of endometriosis; nobody wants to experience a pain that feels like someone is sticking a knife up your vagina. If the thought of that does float your boat, you are most definitely reading the wrong blog and you may want to consider getting yourself some form of psychiatric help. Jodie deals with all that pain, discomfort and the numerous other problems that I am sure endometriosis brings with a smile.  

Jodie turns up to work every day and does her best to help the students, despite not feeling well herself. She has such a positive attitude and she never gives up. Nothing makes the struggle street journey a little easier than knowing someone else who is walking down that same street. I often have a little moan to Jodie about my difficulties and it makes me feel better because I know she understands. On my most miserable days, Jodie inspires me to keep going, to keep putting one foot in front of the other and to never give up. She reminds me to keep smiling, keep laughing and keep being myself.  

I would never have known Jodie had a hidden disability if she had not talked about it. I am so thankful that she did. The moral of the story (blog) is to never be ashamed of your story, it will inspire others.