There's something that makes me really angry: when a person with a disability clearly explains what they can't hold, they are seemingly listened to, but then they are asked to continue functioning the same way.
And that happens far too often when we talk about invisible disabilities.
I recently experienced a situation in a job counseling setting. We had discussed my difficulties with certain environments and outdoor activities, and it was acknowledged that this type of work was not suitable for me.
Up to that point, it seemed there was understanding.
But then I was told that it was one thing to rule out outdoor jobs when choosing a job, and another to stop doing daily practice in that same type of environment.
That makes no sense to me.
If an activity isn't suitable for my functioning, it doesn't cease to be unsuitable just because we call it "practice." My nervous system, my body, and my exhaustion don't differentiate between "real work" and "unpaid activity" when what I'm doing is beyond me.
Recognizing that a person has a limitation and, at the same time, asking them to continue exposing themselves in the same way is a direct contradiction.
It's not adaptation. It's maintaining the same standards under a different name.
This has also happened to me in the field of home care. When I explain that I need certain things done in a specific way, it's not always out of habit, whim, or a desire to control. Often there's a practical reason behind it.
For example, if I hang my underwear a certain way, it's because it saves space and I don't have to take it down as often. That reduces physical, mental, and sensory strain. It's not just "doing it that way for no reason."
It also hurts me that it might be interpreted that I leave tasks piling up because I don't want to do them or because I expect someone else to do everything for me. That's not it.
I don't have the same energy as other people. I get tired more easily. I have scoliosis. I've had foot pain until I got orthotics. And, on top of that, living with a constantly on-high alert means that many everyday situations take much more toll on me than they might seem from the outside.
Sometimes I need to rest right when someone comes home. And it's not indifference. It's a real need.
I also experience certain situations that trigger a kind of anxiety that's hard to explain: I notice something, but I can't always pinpoint exactly what it is. It could be feeling overwhelmed, accumulated tension, physical discomfort, overload, or a combination of everything.
That's why it hurts me when a need ends up being read as comfort, demand, or lack of will.
I can explain, remind, and help others understand how I do things and why I do them that way. But what I cannot accept is that, because I need support, I am automatically placed in the role of someone who "does nothing" or who "leaves everything for others."
The underlying problem is this: often the needs of a person with autism, ADHD, or an invisible disability are interpreted as whims, demands, lack of willpower, or lack of effort.
And they are not.
These are real limits.
Requesting accommodations is not about trying to control others. It's not about wanting the professional to disappear as a professional. It's not about denying that the other person also has their own way of working.
Asking for accommodations means explaining that my body and nervous system cannot handle certain things in the same way.
I also get very worried when the message ends up being: "the professional will try to adapt, but you also have to make the effort to adapt."
That statement may seem balanced, but for people with disabilities it can become a trap. Because many of us have spent our entire lives adapting: to the pace of others, to unspoken rules, to discomfort, pain, exhaustion, noise, confusion, guilt, and the need to appear capable of more than we actually are.
I no longer want to forget about myself to try to please others. Adapting cannot mean enduring until I break.
A true adaptation isn't saying "I understand" and then maintaining the exact same demands. A true adaptation involves changing something so that the person doesn't have to pay with their body, their mental health, or their dignity.
And that's especially important when the disability isn't visible. Because if it's not visible, it often seems as if it doesn't exist. But it does: when a seemingly simple task leaves you without energy for the rest of the day, when your nervous system is constantly on high alert, when a domestic, work, or social situation generates anxiety that even you can't always identify, or when your body says enough is enough before others understand.
People with invisible disabilities don't need to be treated as if we're impossible. We need to be told not to respond with another demand when we explain a limitation.
We need adaptations to be more than just empty words. We need to be believed before the crisis hits.