I have a disability.

Not something I say much. Or ever. There seems to be a lot weighing on the word "disabled" and I feel like that I'm not. Not the things that people think a disabled person should be. I don't feel like I'm disabled. But at the same time, I really do.

I don't remember what it's like to go through a day without pain. I don't remember a time before EDS and researching everything I could to figure out why this was happening to my body and what I could do to help myself. I don't remember a day that I didn't think about EDS, my body issues, my differences at least a million times a day.

Yet, I still have a hard time calling myself disabled or saying I have a disability. The fact is, by the very simplest definition of the word, I do have a disability.

I talked to my boss. She's knows a little bit more about my disease now and although she's never heard of it before, as a nurse, she understands just how extreme the words "connective tissue disease" can be. She's helping me to get my medical forms for work straightened out so that I don't end up penalized because I just can't get out of bed one day. Bless her for being so understanding and helpful. I only hope I can get up to the number of hours I need to get the proper medical leave form before I get sick again.

With any luck, my next rheumatology appointment will lend to more options about treatment. I really want to get into therapy and start getting the right splints/braces/supports/etc that would make my day more productive and slightly less painful.

But for today, I accept that I have a disability. Because I have to. Denying it won't change anything. And at least this way, my perception of myself changes for the better. Because I've never thought as a disability as a reason to be anything other than human. So this just makes me human, like the rest of the world.