July is Disability Pride Month.
If I’m honest, I don’t think I’ve ever really celebrated it before. For a long time, I wasn’t sure it was something I could celebrate at all.
I never expected to become disabled. It wasn’t part of the life I had imagined for myself. Almost overnight, everything changed. My body no longer did what I asked of it, and I found myself constantly fighting against it, desperate to get back to the person I used to be.
I spent years believing my disability was a weakness.
I watched the life I had planned slip away. The dreams I had worked towards suddenly felt impossible, and I mourned not just my health, but my identity. I grieved the person I had been, the independence I had lost, and the future I thought I would have. That grief was overwhelming, and for a long time I couldn’t see beyond it.
People often talk about learning to “accept” disability, as though it’s something that happens overnight. For me, it didn’t. It was messy, painful and incredibly slow. There were moments of anger, frustration and heartbreak. Moments when I questioned my worth because my body no longer worked the way I thought it should.
Then I found swimming.
The water became the one place where my body didn’t feel like it was fighting against me, it hurt but it was tolerable. It gave me freedom when I felt trapped. It gave me confidence when I had none left. Most importantly, it gave me hope.
I could still dream. I could still set goals. I could still achieve things that mattered.
Those dreams became bigger than I ever imagined.
I swam the English Channel. I became an open water coach, a lifeguard and a swimming teacher. I found a community that saw me for who I was, not for what I couldn’t do. I discovered strengths I never knew I had; not just physical strength, but resilience, determination and courage.
Somewhere along the way, something shifted.
I stopped seeing my disability as something that had ruined my life and started recognising everything it had taught me. I realised I wasn’t broken. I wasn’t less than. I wasn’t weak.
I was different.
And different isn’t something to apologise for.
Today, I no longer hide my wheelchair or shy away from calling myself disabled. Disability isn’t a word I whisper anymore. It’s part of my identity, and I’m proud of it. Not because being disabled is easy, it isn’t, but because of everything I’ve overcome to build a life I love.
There are still hard days. Days when pain wins. Days when I miss the body I used to have. Disability Pride doesn’t mean pretending those days don’t exist.
To me, Disability Pride means refusing to believe that my value depends on how my body functions. It means recognising that I am worthy exactly as I am. It means celebrating everything I have achieved, not in spite of my disability, but alongside it.
My disability has changed my life in ways I never wanted.
But it has also introduced me to incredible people, taken me on extraordinary adventures, and shown me a strength I never knew existed.
I didn’t choose this journey.
But I am proud of the person it has helped me become.