I have this condition that sometimes keeps me from doing things with my hands. It is related to nerve sheaths and inflammation and an immune response. I had it so I under control over the years that when it flared up yesterday to the point where I couldn’t pick up a cup, I remembered.
My family of origin was so riddled with abuse that they took a complaint as an opportunity to inflict ridicule. I think that when people have asked me, I did say that I was on disability but I never admitted that I had a disability. 15 years ago, I left a job because I was concerned that I would never be able to write again if I continued with the work pace.
It’s now very apparent that I have a disability that impacts my life. If I have been born into a different class, I probably would have been able to compensate for it with that privilege forever.
The dominant culture is so inflicted with perfectionism, that I choose to not get very deep here. It takes emotional labor that I don't experience in other communities. Now I suppose that I owe you some clarity. So, aside from the dyslexia, which I can compensate for pretty well, I have a hidden disability.