By Kate Eastman in The Mighty. (From an Australian perspective).
I received a disability parking permit this week… but I’m currently too scared to use it.
Too scared to face the condemning looks as I step out of the car and walk without visible impairment into the shops.
Too scared to hear the words, “But you are not disabled!” shouted across the parking lot.
Too scared to return to my car to see an angry note shoved on the windshield: “Leave the spots for someone who actually needs them.”
The many stories making the news this week of others facing the same issue aren’t helping me feel any more confident about accessing these parking spaces.
See, I have an invisible illness. A chronic illness that’s not apparent by looking at me, the 30-something, well-presented woman standing in front of you. Yet, I have a very real, very debilitating and crippling disease. You could walk past me and not have a clue about what’s going on inside my body, I look no different than the person next to me. However, I have a body where breathing is exhausting and the pain is constant. A body that doesn’t allow me to leave the house or my bed on a regular basis. There is nothing imaginary about my illness. Three years of debilitating symptoms are proof of this. It may be invisible, yet it is quite real.
To read the rest of this story in The Mighty, click on the link below: