This was taken yesterday. I was out early to avoid the heat and the crowds, sitting on a bench I used to pass by every day but never dared to stop at. Now it feels like one of the few places I can just be without pressure. Without pretending I’m keeping up.
During lockdown, the world slowed down enough for me to breathe. Remote work, virtual hangouts, grocery deliveries—it wasn’t perfect, but for once, I wasn’t the only one navigating life at half-speed. I didn’t have to explain why I couldn’t make it somewhere. I didn’t feel like I was falling behind, because everything else had paused too.
Now that the world is slowly starting to “go back to normal,” I’m starting to feel the pressure again. Everyone’s eager to get back to what they once knew—dinners out, busy schedules, packed social calendars. But for me, things are not going back to what they were, because life with a disability has never really had a “normal” to begin with.
I was diagnosed with a chronic illness a few years ago. At first, it was subtle—tiredness that didn’t make sense, aches and pains that lingered longer than they should. It took months before I got the diagnosis, and by then, the damage had already been done. My routine, my job, even simple tasks that others took for granted had become mountains I struggled to climb. But I adapted. I learned new ways of doing things, rearranged my life, and created a space that worked for me.
The lockdown didn’t feel like the end of the world—it felt like a brief moment of peace. I didn’t have to explain why I was tired after walking for only ten minutes, or why I needed to take breaks during a meeting. For the first time in a long time, the world was moving at a pace I could keep up with. And as everyone else was navigating their own challenges, I felt like I wasn’t alone in the struggle.
But now? It’s like I’m being asked to suddenly run a race I didn’t sign up for. It’s strange, because I should be happy, right? The world is opening up again, people are going out, and I should be excited about getting back to life, back to socializing, back to the hustle.
But I’m not ready.
Yesterday, sitting on that bench, I thought about how much time I spent rushing through life before my diagnosis. I never stopped to appreciate the little things—the cool morning breeze, the quiet moments of stillness, the joy of sitting with a good book and not being expected to be anywhere or do anything. The pandemic, in its own strange way, gave me space to breathe, to pause. I realized I didn’t have to keep up with the whirlwind of society’s expectations.
And now that everything is speeding back up again, I feel like I’m being swept along with it, even though I’m not ready to move that fast. I don’t want to go back to constantly pretending that I can handle it all.
One of the hardest things to navigate as a disabled person is the idea that you should just “get back to normal.” People often say things like, “Oh, you’re feeling better now, right?” or “I bet you’re looking forward to getting back to your old routine!” The truth is, there is no “old routine” to go back to. What was once normal for me is no longer an option.
And I don’t think it’s just me. I think a lot of people are realizing that “normal” isn’t necessarily what they want anymore. Some things just aren’t worth returning to—the overpacked calendars, the constant rush, the pressure to be more, do more, look a certain way.
A few weeks ago, I had to make a decision. I had been invited to a friend’s birthday party. I had been looking forward to it for weeks, but as the date drew closer, I began to feel the familiar anxiety creep in. The crowds, the noise, the late-night socializing—all things I had learned to avoid in the last year. I wasn’t sure I could handle it, but I also didn’t want to disappoint anyone.
The night of the party came, and I stood in front of the mirror, dressed and ready to go. My heart was pounding. I could feel the pressure building—the pressure to go, to keep up, to be part of the “normal” world again. But then, I stopped. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that it was okay to say no. It was okay to put my health, my well-being, first.
I sent a text to my friend, explaining how I was feeling. I told her that I wasn’t ready for that kind of socializing just yet, but that I would love to catch up one-on-one when I was feeling more up to it. She was understanding, and in that moment, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. I had said no, but it didn’t mean I was any less of a friend or any less of a person. It just meant I was being honest with myself.
But then came the twist—the next day, I found out that my decision had inadvertently helped someone else. My friend, who I had texted, later told me that she was feeling a lot of the same anxiety. She didn’t want to go either, but had felt pressured to because she didn’t want to let anyone down. She thanked me for being open about it, because it gave her the courage to say no too.
In a strange way, by choosing to prioritize my own well-being, I had unintentionally given my friend permission to do the same. And in that moment, I realized that there was power in stepping back. When you allow yourself to set boundaries, you not only protect yourself, but you also encourage others to do the same.
That was a karmic twist I didn’t expect—the way my decision not to go to the party ended up helping someone else feel less alone in their own struggles. It made me realize that we often put so much pressure on ourselves to conform to what society expects, but there’s power in showing up for yourself first. And when you do, it’s possible that you’ll help others find the courage to do the same.
Since then, I’ve made a promise to myself that I won’t rush back into the “normal” pace of life. Instead, I’m going to take things at my own pace, embracing the moments that bring me peace and letting go of the things that cause unnecessary stress. And when I’m ready, I’ll slowly start stepping back into social situations, but only when it feels right.
I know now that it’s okay to not be ready. It’s okay to take your time and to set boundaries that protect your mental and physical health. Just because the world is speeding up doesn’t mean you have to follow the pace. You have the right to choose your own rhythm, to set your own tempo, and to prioritize your well-being.
So, if you’re feeling the pressure to “get back to normal,” I encourage you to pause. Take a breath. Ask yourself: What is normal for me, and does it serve me? You don’t have to rush. You don’t have to follow the crowd. Your well-being should always come first, and sometimes, stepping back is the bravest thing you can do.
If this resonated with you, share it with someone who might need a little reminder to take things at their own pace. Let’s all remember that it’s okay to say no, and it’s okay to take things slow. Sometimes, the greatest gift you can give yourself is the time to just breathe.
