May you have happiness

 Deep within the confines of my mind lies a part of me that I tend to keep hidden from the world's prying eyes. As someone who advocates for embracing one's disability and not being ashamed of who they are, I must admit that I sometimes find myself shrinking into the background. It's as though I morph into a smaller version of myself, able to quietly maneuver through narrow passageways in an antique store or crouch down on the floor of a record shop, scouring for a hidden gem amidst the dust. I'm skilled at tiptoeing between rows of herbs in a garden, all the while feeling a sense of vulnerability and fragility that I often shield from others. There are moments when I don't have to worry about taking up too much space when I'm at ease with myself and my surroundings. Yet, there are also times when I mourn for the person I could never be. The person who doesn't have the option to make herself small. The longing to explore places where I won't fit in, to blend in on the street, can be overwhelming at times. Who knows what kind of person I could have become if not for my disability? I don't share this to elicit pity or sympathy. It's simply my reality. I'm capable of feeling proud and mournful, happy and mournful, grateful and mournful, lively and mournful. Even on a beautiful day spent with my favorite person walking on the beach, grief lingers. While good days are a delight, they're still challenging. I often imagine what it would be like to live without a disability. It's okay to desire a life without constant obstacles and the need for resourcefulness. I love myself and my life and am not ashamed of my disability. But sometimes, I wish things could be a little easier, even if it's just in my mind...https://creativeprinceness.blogspot.com/2024/05/work-life-balance.html

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