Misunderstanding - everything all at once

When I had my stroke at 22, I lost a lot. The biggest loss was my mobility. I’m in a wheelchair, which is a fact that people see—but they don’t always understand what it means.

In those first couple of years, I tried to keep being social. I’d ask people to hang out, to do things. But rejection showed up more than I’d like to admit. And here’s the thing: I’ve never been a big fan f rejection. So, instead of pushing through, I just stopped asking. Over time I got used to being on my own, but that silence can come across as me being cold or distant. To some, I probably look like a bitch. The truth is, it’s just easier than being turned down again. For a while I stayed on my own (and got used to it#s but when I started getting out there and meeting new people it was almost like I had a fake confidence at first, and then being rejected, ignored, swept under the rug, and dismissed I became pretty quiet and now that I'm trying to involve people in my life now I think they have already went ahead and judged and made up their own assumptions according to typical society standards. Which sucks because I definitely don't fit those anymore... Even though seem sound of mine for the most part, doesn't mean I'm not lacking in other areas like planning or organizing.

Most of my days now are spent at home, hanging out with my cats. People might assume I’m out and about living it up—but I’m not. Don’t get me wrong, I like being out and about. But the reality is, I get tired. A simple outing costs me more than most people realize. Planning, energy, transportation, accessibility—it all adds up. What’s effortless for someone else is pomp math for me.

Another layer of the misunderstanding c to be themomes from how I present myself. I sound “sound of mind.” I can have conversations, joke around, and hold my own. But here’s where people get it twisted: just because I sound put together doesn’t mean I don’t struggle in other areas. Planning, organizing, mobility—those are real challenges for me. I’m in a chair for a reason. My brain and body don’t always cooperate, even if it looks like I have it all under control.

So, if you see me keeping to myself, know this: it’s not because I don’t want to be social. It’s because rejection, exhaustion, and constant misunderstanding have trained me to protect my energy. I’m not a bitch—I’m just surviving in a world that doesn’t always make space for me.