There’s this weird category nobody talks about enough.
Not fully able. Not visibly disabled enough to make people comfortable labeling it.
I call it “abled-disabled.”
Which sounds like a setting on a washing machine, but it’s actually a lifestyle nobody signs up for.
It’s living in this constant in-between where your body is unreliable, but your appearance is convincing enough to get zero accommodations and maximum expectations.
I can walk into a room looking “fine.”
And that’s the problem.
Because “fine” is a visual.
Parkinson’s is a negotiation happening under the surface.
People see me standing there and think,
“He’s good.”
What they don’t see is the internal group chat happening between my brain and body that looks like:
Brain: “We’re walking.”
Body: “Define walking.”
Brain: “Forward motion.”
Body: “Best I can do is interpretive hesitation.”
And somehow I’m supposed to perform “normal” on top of that.
That’s the abled-disabled trap.
You’re functional enough to be held to able-bodied standards…
but impaired enough that hitting those standards costs you everything.
Energy.
Focus.
Dignity on a bad day.
And the worst part?
People think you’re inconsistent.
“You were fine yesterday.”
Yeah. Yesterday my dopamine showed up for work.
Today it called out sick and left no forwarding address.
This is not inconsistency.
This is chemistry with a sense of humor.
And then there’s the social side of it, which is its own little circus.
If you ask for help, you feel like you’re exaggerating.
If you don’t ask for help, you pay for it later.
So you start doing this mental math all day long:
“How bad do I look right now?”
“Is this a struggle people can see, or is this a private event?”
“Am I allowed to be tired, or do I still look too capable?”
You become your own PR team.
“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight’s performance will include mild tremor, moderate stiffness, and a surprise appearance by existential frustration.”
And God forbid you try to explain it.
Because now you’re stuck translating a neurological disorder into something people can digest between emails.
“It’s like… I can do things… but not consistently… and also everything takes more effort than it looks like… and also sometimes my body just… doesn’t.”
And they nod like they get it.
They do not get it.
Because from the outside, it looks like a motivation issue.
From the inside, it’s a system malfunction.
Big difference.
This “abled-disabled” space messes with your identity too.
Because you don’t fit the clean narratives.
You’re not the inspirational story people expect.
You’re not the “completely unable” story people understand.
You’re the gray area.
The part of the disease that doesn’t photograph well.
Too capable for sympathy.
Too impaired for consistency.
And somehow you’re supposed to build a life in that space.
A career.
Relationships.
A sense of self that doesn’t depend on whether your body cooperates that day.
It forces you to redefine everything.
Success isn’t “Did I crush it today?”
It’s “Did I show up and survive my own nervous system?”
And I know how that sounds.
It sounds like lowering the bar.
It’s not.
It’s moving the bar to a place where reality lives.
Because the truth is, being “abled-disabled” requires a level of resilience most people never have to develop.
You learn how to function without guarantees.
You learn how to adapt in real time.
You learn how to keep going even when your own body is giving you mixed signals like a bad GPS.
“Proceed forward.”
“Recalculating.”
“Make a U-turn.”
“Actually, just sit down.”
And you still find a way to live.
Not perfectly.
Not consistently.
But meaningfully.
That’s the part people miss.
This isn’t about being half-able or half-disabled.
It’s about being fully human in a body that doesn’t follow the rules anymore.
And figuring out how to laugh at that…
because if you don’t, you’re just standing there arguing with your own neurons like they’re going to apologize.
They won’t.
So you adapt.
You adjust.
You keep showing up.
Even when “showing up” looks nothing like it used to.
That’s abled-disabled.
Not broken.
Not fine.
Just… navigating a system that forgot to send the instruction manual. 🧠
