For Those with Hidden Disabilities: I See You, I Stand with You

To those of you living with hidden disabilities — this is for you.

To the ones navigating each day with an illness, a condition, or a struggle that most people will never see or understand, please hear me when I say: I see you. You matter. Your pain, your story, your strength — all of it is real.

My husband lives with a hidden disability. His days are shaped by a battle most people can’t comprehend, and because they can’t see it, they often dismiss it. He looks “fine” on the outside — but they don’t see what happens behind closed doors. They don’t see the courage it takes for him to get out of bed some days, or the weight he carries when his own mind and body betray him. They don’t see the toll it takes on his spirit, on our relationship, on the life we once imagined.

And yet, he keeps going. Quietly. Bravely. That, to me, is a kind of heroism the world doesn’t celebrate enough.

To those reading this who live with your own unseen battles — whether it’s chronic pain, PTSD, depression, anxiety, traumatic brain injury, epilepsy, fibromyalgia, autoimmune disease, PNES, or something that doesn’t even have a name yet — I want to say this loud and clear:

You are not invisible to me. You are not forgotten.

You are seen.

You are believed.

You are not alone.

It’s exhausting living in a world that demands “proof” before offering compassion. So often, you’re made to feel like you have to explain yourself — to convince others that you’re not lazy, not weak, not faking, not overreacting. You’re forced to smile when you’re hurting. To work when you’re worn out. To stay quiet when your truth is too complex for small talk.

But I want you to know something deeper, something I believe with every fiber of my being:

You are not the problem.

You are a living example of resilience.

You are doing the best you can with circumstances that most people can’t even begin to imagine.

While the world may not understand, I have made it my mission to educate — to gently, persistently speak the truth that needs to be heard. That invisible illnesses are real. That disabilities don’t always look like wheelchairs or casts. That what someone is carrying internally may be heavier than anything we can see on the outside.

This is not just about sympathy — this is about dignity. About raising awareness. About fighting for a world where no one feels like they have to prove their pain in order to be treated with kindness.

So to you, the warriors with invisible battles — hold your head high.

Even when your legs shake,

Even when your energy fades,

Even when your confidence is cracked wide open by judgment or ignorance —

Still, hold your head high.

Because while you may be bruised, you are brave.

Because the pain hasn’t taken away your light — it has revealed your depth.

Because your strength doesn’t look like loud declarations or grand gestures — it looks like quiet perseverance.

It looks like showing up when it’s hard. It looks like asking for help when pride says not to. It looks like loving yourself through the confusion and the chaos.

You are not less than.

You are not weak.

You are not “too much” or “not enough.”

You are who you are meant to be.

You are valid. You are valued. You are glorious.

Yes, glorious — in all your rawness, in all your resilience, in all your realness.

So today, I want to say: I see you. I honor you. I will fight for you.

You don’t have to pretend. You don’t have to justify. You don’t have to shrink to make other people comfortable.

If the world can’t yet understand you, let them catch up. In the meantime, keep standing in your truth. Keep speaking when you have the energy. Keep resting when you need to. Keep being exactly who you are — because that is more than enough.

You are not a burden.

You are a blessing.

You are not broken — you are beautifully, fiercely whole in your own way.

And I’m here, in your corner — with compassion, with love, and with an unshakable belief in your worth.

Always.