The Dual Diagnosis Diaries: 💜 Disabled Does Not Mean Incapable

There is a misconception about disability that deserves to be retired immediately:

If you can do something sometimes, then surely you can do it all the time.

You posted on Facebook today.
You went on vacation last week.
You went to dinner.
You wrote a blog post.
You ran errands.
You looked perfectly fine in that picture.

So how can you possibly say your disability sometimes limits what you can do?

Because being able to do something is not the same as being able to do it reliably, repeatedly, safely, and on demand.

And maybe that’s the part we don’t talk about enough.

What I can do once, occasionally, or under conditions I control does not automatically tell you what I can reliably sustain on someone else’s schedule.

That distinction matters.

Disability isn’t always about what I can’t do. Sometimes it’s about what I cannot consistently sustain.

---

💜 Capability and Sustainability Are Two Different Things

I am capable of a lot.

I can work.
I can travel.
I can write.
I can advocate.
I can spend time with the people I love.
I can bake.
I can enjoy my life.

And yes, I can sit on my couch scrolling Facebook like I am being compensated for my research. 😂

None of those things magically cancel out disability.

The difference is that many of those activities allow me to control the conditions.

If I’m writing a blog entry and my body says, We’re done here, I can save the draft.

If I’m scrolling Facebook and MG decides holding my head upright has become an optional feature, I can put the phone down.

If Crohn’s suddenly announces that we need to locate a bathroom RIGHT NOW, I can disappear.

If I’m exhausted, I can lie down.

If today simply isn’t happening?

I can cancel plans.

A job, appointment, obligation, or deadline doesn’t necessarily come with those same freedoms.

That’s the difference between being capable of something and being able to sustain it.

---

⏰ Chronic Illness Does Not Respect Business Hours

My diseases don’t look at the clock and say:

“Oh! Kia has responsibilities today. We’ll circle back Saturday.”

That would actually be incredibly considerate.

Crohn’s and MG are terrible roommates, but apparently they’re also terrible administrative assistants. 😂

Symptoms don’t schedule themselves around meetings, deadlines, vacations, family events, or anything else I have planned.

Chronic illness can fluctuate tremendously.

I can wake up one morning capable of doing almost everything I planned.

Another morning, getting dressed may feel like I’ve already completed the day’s first major assignment.

Sometimes the change happens from one day to the next.

Sometimes it happens within hours.

And sometimes I start the day thinking I’m doing pretty well, only for one of my roommates to apparently receive an emergency memo that things have been going entirely too smoothly.

That unpredictability is part of the disability.

---

🦋 “But I Saw You…”

This one deserves its own section.

“But I saw you traveling.”

Yes.

“But you went out with your friends.”

Also yes.

“But you were walking around yesterday.”

Correct.

“But you work.”

Yep.

None of those observations tell you what happened before, during, or after that moment.

A photograph captures a fraction of a second.

It doesn’t capture the preparation required to get there.

It doesn’t show the breaks.

It doesn’t show symptoms being managed quietly.

It doesn’t show what I had to modify—or what I decided not to do so I would have enough energy for the thing you saw.

And it definitely doesn’t show the recovery afterward.

Social media is especially misleading because you’re seeing the moments I chose to share—not a continuous livestream of my body’s shenanigans.

Trust me.

Nobody needs that subscription. 😂

---

🌻 Disability Isn’t the Absence of a Life

Disabled people are still allowed to live.

We are allowed to travel.

We are allowed to laugh.

We are allowed to have hobbies.

We are allowed to go to restaurants, beaches, amusement parks, family gatherings, and vacations.

We are allowed to have good days.

We are even allowed to have really good days.

Joy does not invalidate disability.

A vacation doesn’t cure autoimmune disease.

A smiling photograph isn’t medical clearance.

Doing something enjoyable doesn’t prove someone can sustain the physical or mental demands of an entirely different activity day after day.

Those things aren’t equivalent.

I don’t have to spend every moment visibly struggling for my disability to be valid.

And I certainly don’t have to stop enjoying my life just so my illnesses make more sense to someone watching from the outside.

---

🧠 The Missing Word Is Consistently

This may be the most important part of the entire conversation.

There is a difference between:

Can I do it?

and

Can I do it consistently?

Jobs and other obligations often come with set hours, attendance requirements, deadlines, productivity expectations, required tasks, and the expectation that you can continue meeting those requirements even when you’re having a difficult day.

Chronic illness doesn’t always cooperate with that structure.

Disability doesn’t necessarily mean:

“I cannot do this.”

Sometimes it means:

“I cannot guarantee that my body will allow me to do this consistently.”

Those are two completely different statements.

I may be physically capable of completing a task today.

But can I do it tomorrow?

And the next day?

At the required time?

For the required duration?

Without stopping when my body demands it?

During a flare?

After a terrible night?

While managing fatigue, weakness, gastrointestinal symptoms, breathing difficulties, or whatever surprise my roommates have added to today’s itinerary?

Capacity can fluctuate. Expectations often don’t.

Of course, disability doesn’t affect everyone the same way.

For some disabled people, accommodations make consistent employment possible. For others, even with accommodations, their conditions may make traditional work schedules difficult or impossible to sustain.

And for many people living with fluctuating chronic illnesses, that reality can change as their health changes.

There isn’t one definition of what a disabled life is supposed to look like.

---

💭 Productivity Is Not Proof of Health

We live in a culture that often treats productivity like evidence.

If someone accomplishes something, we assume they’re doing well.

If they aren’t productive, we sometimes assume they aren’t trying hard enough.

Chronic illness destroys that equation.

Sometimes completing one seemingly ordinary activity requires an extraordinary amount of energy.

Sometimes I choose to spend that energy anyway because the experience is worth it.

That doesn’t mean there wasn’t a cost.

And choosing to spend my limited energy on something that brings me happiness doesn’t mean I suddenly have unlimited energy available for everything else.

That’s not hypocrisy.

That’s energy management.

Maybe I spend that energy traveling.

Maybe I spend it with family.

Maybe I spend it doing something I’ve been looking forward to.

Maybe I spend it doing something that makes me feel like me instead of a collection of diagnoses.

Sometimes I know there may be consequences afterward.

Sometimes I do it anyway.

Because managing chronic illness isn’t only about preserving energy.

Sometimes it’s about deciding what deserves the energy I have.

---

🎵 Music Playing…

“I Lived” — OneRepublic

Because disability is part of my story, but it isn’t the entirety of who I am.

My goal isn’t simply to exist carefully enough that my illnesses never inconvenience me.

I still want to live.

I don’t need to shrink my life to make my limitations easier for someone else to understand.

---

💭 Reflection Corner

Maybe instead of asking:

“If you’re disabled, how were you able to do that?”

We could start asking:

“What did it take for you to be able to do that?”

That question leaves room for the reality people don’t always see.

The accommodations.

The planning.

The medication.

The cancellations.

The breaks.

The recovery.

The determination.

And sometimes the sheer stubbornness. 😂

Being disabled doesn’t mean being incapable.

It doesn’t mean helpless.

It doesn’t mean someone stops contributing, dreaming, traveling, working, creating, parenting, loving, advocating, laughing, or living.

Sometimes disability means the body cannot reliably and consistently meet the demands the world expects it to meet.

That’s an important difference.

So if you see someone with a disability enjoying life, don’t use their happiness as evidence against their struggle.

Let it be evidence that they’re still living.

---

💬 Let’s Talk

Have you ever had someone question your illness or disability because they saw you doing something they didn’t think you should be able to do?

What do you wish people understood about the difference between being capable and being able to consistently sustain something?

Share your experience below. Someone reading may finally feel understood because you did. 💜

---

Thank you for spending a little time with me here at The Dual Diagnosis Diaries. 💜

If this entry resonated with you, please like, subscribe, share, or pass it along to someone who may need the reminder that disability and capability can exist in the same body.

Awareness begins when we stop judging someone’s entire reality by the small portion of their life we happen to see.

Being disabled doesn’t mean I stopped living.

It means I’ve had to learn that what I can do, how often I can do it, how long I can sustain it, and what it may cost me afterward are four very different things.

Until next time, I’ll be here navigating life with my two unpredictable roommates—learning when to push, when to rest, and when to remind Crohn’s and MG that neither one of them was invited to run the meeting. 😂💜

Founder • Author • Advocate • Future Wellness Coach
Kia Lorice
The Dual Diagnosis Diaries 💜