Breaking the Silence: The Emotional Journey of Living with a Hidden Disability

The definition of disability is a persistent and significant impairment of a person’s social and economic participation or involvement. However, there are various types of disabilities – visible, hidden, physical, and intellectual. Of course, the degree of disability also plays a role. But when do we classify an individual as disabled? What if the person does not feel disabled at all but is still labeled as such because they have a disability?

Exploring the concept of disability involves delving into a complex spectrum of conditions that can manifest in various forms. Visible disabilities, such as mobility impairments, are apparent to the observer. Hidden disabilities, on the other hand, may not be immediately noticeable but can significantly impact an individual’s daily life, such as mental health conditions or chronic illnesses.

Physical disabilities encompass challenges related to motor function, mobility, and coordination. These may result from congenital conditions, accidents, or illnesses. Intellectual disabilities affect cognitive functions, impacting learning, problem-solving, and adaptive skills. The diversity within the realm of disabilities is vast, with each condition presenting unique challenges and requiring tailored support.

The degree of disability further adds nuance to the discussion. Some individuals may experience mild impairments that have minimal impact on their daily lives, while others may face severe limitations that necessitate significant accommodations. The multifaceted nature of disability highlights the importance of recognizing the individuality of each person’s experience.

One critical aspect to consider is the subjective perception of disability. What society may label as a disability might not align with how an individual perceives themselves. Some individuals may embrace their unique abilities and consider their differences as strengths rather than limitations. Others may not identify with the term “disabled” at all, emphasizing the importance of acknowledging diverse perspectives.

I am one of them. From the outside, nobody would ever consider me a disabled person. I can walk, sit, drink, drive, and work like any typical, healthy individual. However, the significant difference lies in the fact that my disability is hidden. I was born with an open abdominal wall, leading to numerous surgeries, including the reconstruction of my bladder and the removal of my left kidney.

Navigating life with a hidden disability presents a set of challenges that often go unnoticed by the casual observer. While I may appear able-bodied in many aspects of daily life, the complexities of managing a hidden disability like mine extend beyond the visible surface.

In my teenage years, the invisible struggles became particularly pronounced, marked by a profound sense of insecurity, persistent pain, and an internal struggle that mirrored the physical intricacies of my condition. The journey through adolescence is challenging for most, but for those grappling with hidden disabilities or disabilities in general, the challenges can be particularly daunting. In a phase where self-identity and social acceptance take center stage, my hidden disability added layers of complexity to the typical teenage experience. The constant battle between wanting to fit in and the unique challenges imposed by my condition created a profound sense of insecurity.

The invisible nature of my disability also intensified the struggle. Friends and peers might not readily understand the internal battles I faced. The pain, both physical and emotional, became a silent companion, shaping my interactions and coloring my perceptions of self-worth. The pressure to conform to societal norms, coupled with the internalized stigma associated with disability, exacerbated the teenage journey of self- discovery.

Navigating high school and peer relationships involved not only managing the academic rigors but also maneuvering through social dynamics that often overlooked the invisible struggles I faced. The fear of judgment and the desire to be perceived as “normal” fueled moments of self-isolation, creating internal conflicts that added layers of complexity to the already intricate tapestry of teenage life. However, one of the most challenging aspects during those years was grappling with the profound impact my hidden disability had on intimate relationships, coupled with the emergence of mental health issues. The innate human desire for connection, especially during the teenage years, became a poignant source of internal conflict. While friends embarked on explorations of romance and intimacy, my hidden disability presented unique challenges that left me feeling isolated and inadequate.

The numerous surgeries I underwent also left me deeply insecure about my body. A prominent scar extending from my belly button became a constant reminder of the medical journey I had traversed. This physical marker, while emblematic of resilience and survival, also intensified feelings of self-consciousness and body image concerns. The fear of being judged or rejected due to these visible reminders of my hidden disability further complicated my ability to engage in intimate relationships.

The impact of surgeries on my body also extended beyond the visible scar. I grappled with vaginismus, a condition characterized by involuntary muscle spasms that made intimacy painful and emotionally fraught. The intersection of physical and emotional challenges created a barrier to the closeness and connection that many experience during their formative years.

For me, it was a journey marked by moments of frustration, heartache, and a longing for understanding from both myself and potential partners. The emotional landscape was often clouded by a pervasive feeling of being unlovable as if my hidden disability cast an indelible shadow on my capacity to be loved and accepted. The fear that no one would see beyond the scars, both visible and invisible, became a persistent companion in the quest for connection.

As I confronted these challenges head-on, the journey towards self-acceptance became transformative. Embracing my body, scars, and all became a powerful act of reclaiming my narrative. It was a declaration that my hidden disability did not define my worth or capacity for intimacy. It involved fostering open communication with partners, breaking down the stigma associated with both visible and hidden disabilities, and advocating for a more inclusive understanding of diverse bodies and experiences.

The fear of rejection started dissipating as I found strength in vulnerability, allowing potential partners to witness the resilience that emerged from overcoming challenges. It became a journey of self-love and self- acceptance, an acknowledgment that I am deserving of love not in spite of my hidden disability but because of the strength it has instilled in me.

Despite the difficulties, this period of emotional turbulence became a catalyst for personal growth. It propelled me toward a deeper understanding of resilience, self-compassion, and the importance of seeking assistance when navigating the intricate intersections of hidden disabilities and mental health challenges. It also highlighted the need for societal conversations that address the diverse experiences within the disabled community, acknowledging the multifaceted nature of identity and the impact it can have on mental well- being.

Years after my initial diagnosis of vaginismus, there was a notable improvement in my condition, and I eventually reached a point where intimacy became possible. Reaching a point where intimacy was possible marked a significant triumph over the obstacles posed by vaginismus. It was a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the potential for healing, even in the face of challenging conditions.

Also, one of the unique aspects of a hidden disability is the constant need to navigate a world designed without considering the challenges that may arise. Simple tasks that others take for granted often require careful planning and consideration on my part. The invisible nature of my disability means that society might not readily recognize the additional effort and resilience it takes to navigate a world not inherently accommodating to diverse needs.

Yet, the hidden nature of my disability has also allowed me to develop a profound sense of self-awareness and empathy. I’ve learned to articulate my needs, educate others about invisible disabilities, and advocate for the understanding that goes beyond the visible. This journey has made me acutely aware of the power of perception and the importance of fostering a society that recognizes and accommodates the diversity of disabilities, both visible and hidden.

In the workplace, relationships, and everyday encounters, I navigate a delicate balance between disclosure and privacy. The decision to reveal my hidden disability often involves assessing the level of understanding and acceptance within a given context. It’s a nuanced dance that requires a keen sense of when to educate, advocate, and simply navigate the challenges independently.

For example, in professional settings, the choice to disclose my hidden disability is a calculated one. While workplaces are becoming more inclusive, there can still be a lingering fear of potential biases or misconceptions. Therefore, I often find myself leaning towards maintaining privacy at work, focusing on my capabilities rather than potential preconceptions surrounding my hidden disability.

This preference for privacy in professional spaces stems from a desire to be recognized for my skills, expertise, and contributions without the filter of preconceived notions. The workplace, often driven by deadlines and goals, might not be the most conducive environment for comprehensive education about the intricacies of my hidden disability.

In contrast, with my closest friends and family, there exists a level of trust and understanding that allows for more open conversations about my hidden disability. Here, the dance between disclosure and privacy is less guarded, and I find solace in sharing my experiences and challenges. The acceptance and support received in these personal spheres contribute significantly to my overall well-being, reinforcing the importance of a supportive network.

Feeling good in my own skin and desiring acceptance as “normal” become paramount in these personal relationships. The desire to be seen beyond the lens of a hidden disability is not just about seeking validation but creating spaces where I am acknowledged for who I am rather than what society may perceive me to be. The strength of these personal connections lies in the genuine acceptance and love that transcends any perceived differences.

Ultimately, the delicate dance between disclosure and privacy is a continuous journey. It adapts to the varying landscapes of professional and personal life, reflecting the nuanced nature of living with a hidden disability. While my inclination may be to stay private in certain contexts, the ultimate goal is to foster environments where understanding, empathy, and acceptance can flourish, contributing to a more inclusive and compassionate society.

A crucial juncture in this ongoing journey is the internal process of accepting my disability and navigating the healing journey in my own way. Acceptance is not a one-time event but an evolving process requiring patience, self-compassion, and a commitment to understanding and embracing the unique aspects of my identity. It involves acknowledging both the visible and hidden aspects of my disability, recognizing them not as limitations but as integral parts of my multifaceted self.

Navigating this path towards self-acceptance also involves shedding the societal expectations and stereotypes that may have been internalized over time. It’s about rewriting the narrative surrounding disability and recognizing that living with a hidden disability doesn’t diminish one’s worth or capacity for a fulfilling and meaningful life. Embracing one’s unique journey becomes a powerful act of defiance against societal norms that perpetuate narrow definitions of normalcy.

Living authentically, free from the constraints of societal expectations, allows for a more genuine connection with oneself. It’s an acknowledgment that true fulfillment comes from aligning one’s life with personal values, passions, and aspirations rather than conforming to external benchmarks. The journey becomes an exploration of self-discovery, self-expression, and the celebration of one’s unique identity.

1 https://cpdonline.co.uk/knowledge-base/care/different-types-of-disabilities/

2 https://www.antidiskriminierungsstelle.de/EN/about-discrimination/grounds-for-discrimination/disability-and-chronic-disease/disability- and-chronic-disease-node.

Linh Nguyen

 I'm Linh, 31 and I live in Berlin. I worked as an assistant to the CEO and now I am studying HR until the end of the year. I was born with an open abdominal wall and had many surgeries back then. My bladder was also reconstructed. Through the surgeries processes, I was left with big scars from my belly button. Also, my belly button is shaped as a half-moon belly button. 

When I was 16 the doctors said to me, due to my rare condition I will never get my period and will not be able to have children. Also, I couldn't get intimate with my partner during my teenage years. My vagina was really really tight. Getting intimate was so painful, I suffered from my rare condition and also got depressed but never was in therapy because I was ashamed of it. But during the years when I got older, I did get my period and also I found a surgeon who was able to dilate my vagina and told me that I was able to have children (I don't have any children yet). 

My last stay in the hospital was at the end of 2018 when I got my left kidney (it stopped working) and many bladder stones removed. In November 2022 when I got some alimentary tract stones removed. Now everything is back to normal and I don't need any help from outside. I can do everything by myself :) 

Previous
Previous

When is the right time to start using a mobility aid?

Next
Next

Dating as a Woman with a Disability