When You’re Treated Like You’re Fragile, You Start to Break That Way

There’s something I’ve been carrying quietly for a long time:

People treat me like I’m fragile—so I started to become fragile.

Not because I am.

But because it’s hard not to become what the world keeps reflecting back at you.

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I had a stroke at 22. I’ve spent nearly 12 years navigating this world in a wheelchair, with speech challenges, ataxia, and a list of “invisible” and very visible disabilities that people either pity… or completely ignore.

And ever since then, people have handled me with the kind of forced gentleness you’d use on a cracked teacup.

At first, it sounds nice.

But it’s not kindness. It’s discomfort dressed up in sweetness.

They speak to me slowly.

They assume I’m incapable.

They go quiet when I enter a room, like I might shatter if I hear laughter or real conversation.

They treat me like I’m here to be cared for, not to live.

And after a while, without even meaning to…

I started to believe them.

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It’s confusing.

Because I’m not weak.

I’ve built a business as an artist. I do stand-up comedy. I’ve learned how to advocate for myself in a system that often fails people like me.

But inside? I’m still trying to balance this weird identity the world keeps handing me:

Be strong… but not too strong or they’ll stop helping.

Be vulnerable… but not too vulnerable or they’ll assume you’re broken.

Be grateful… but not too grateful or you’ll disappear.

Be real… but only in a way they can handle.

It’s exhausting.

And underneath it all, there’s this heavy truth I don’t like admitting:

I never feel good enough.

Not for the system.

Not for friendships.

Not for family.

Not for the person I used to be.

Not even for myself sometimes.

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But here’s what I do know:

I am not fragile.

I am not weak.

I have the right to be complicated, messy, emotional, and powerful—all at once.

I don’t exist to make others comfortable.

I don’t owe anyone a silent, graceful struggle.

So if you’re reading this and you’ve ever felt like you’re being treated like a walking wound—

Please know this:

You get to reclaim your strength, piece by piece. Even if you still feel like it’s missing.

You are not fragile.

You’re frustrated.

You’re tired.

You’re human.

And you’re allowed to be all of that—and still be enough.

I know all people are not like this, unfortunately the majority is and I'm just so tired of fighting just to exist. I want to just exist and be okay again.

AGAIN

There’s something I’ve been carrying quietly for a long time:

People treat me like I’m fragile—so I started to become fragile.

Not because I am.

But because it’s hard not to become what the world keeps reflecting back at you.