International Day of Persons with Disabilities- A Reflection

Today, on International Day of Persons with Disabilities, I want to start with this simple truth: your story matters. Every symptom, every struggle, every victory — even the quiet, unseen ones — is important.

For so many of us living with chronic illness or disability, much of our lives happen behind closed doors. We’re expected to smile through pain, justify our symptoms, and prove what our bodies feel. Projecting “fine” when we’re anything but can feel exhausting, isolating, and often invisible. If you’ve felt this too, know that you are not alone.

That’s actually why I started Chronically Sarcastic. Not to sell shirts, but to have a way to say: I see you. This is real. And no, you’re not exaggerating. It became a way to reclaim a narrative we are often cut out of, to give voice to experiences society frequently overlooks.

Living with disability or chronic illness is a complex and layered experience. It’s juggling appointments, medications, fatigue, and pain, all while navigating social expectations, work responsibilities, and relationships. It’s about learning to advocate for yourself in a world that often doesn’t understand your needs, or listen to and respect them. And sometimes, it’s just about making it through the day — quietly, resiliently, and with as much dignity as you can muster.

Every person’s experience is different. Some days, it’s physically impossible to get out of bed; other days, it’s about explaining why a cancelled plan or a “slow day” isn’t laziness. Society rarely sees the invisible labor it takes to manage a chronic condition, but the reality is always there — in fatigue, in pain, in the careful planning of even the smallest tasks. Simply acknowledging that reality, for yourself and in the world around you, is a radical act.

Sarcasm and humour aren’t solutions. They don’t cure anything. But for many of us, they’re coping mechanisms — tools that help us breathe in the middle of chaos, give language to things we’ve been taught not to talk about, and sometimes, the only thing keeping us from falling apart. If you don’t laugh, you cry, right?

But today isn’t about humour, and it isn’t about my brand. It’s about visibility. It’s about acknowledging the 1.3 billion people around the world living with disability — the ones who keep moving even when moving hurts. It’s about honouring the adaptations, resilience, grief, and strength that society so often overlooks. It’s about recognizing that disability is not rare — it’s underrepresented. It's also about acknowledging that it comes in many forms, and most of them are dynamic. Symptoms and fatigue fluctuate. Some days you feel capable of doing normal tasks, while other days even a load of laundry feels like you're trying to climb Mount Everest.

And above all, it’s about you. Your lived experience. Your story — messy, valid, and important. Whether today brings pride, reclaiming, frustration, emotion, or just another day of survival — it’s all valid. Wherever you are on your journey, you are seen, your reality is honoured, and your presence matters.

If today leaves you reflecting on your own experiences, consider what makes your journey unique. Celebrate the victories — no matter how small they may seem. Honour the strategies and adaptations you’ve developed to navigate a world that isn’t always accessible. And allow yourself to acknowledge the moments of frustration or grief without guilt. And remember: part of honouring your experience is speaking up for yourself and your needs. Practicing self-advocacy wherever you can, both for your own well-being and to help drive meaningful and necessary change in accessibility.

Even tiny actions can make a difference. Reach out to a friend who understands. Take a few minutes for yourself to breathe, stretch, or sip something warm. Share your story if you feel safe doing so — in a journal, a conversation, or even online. Every little step toward visibility and self-care counts.

Thank you for being part of this community. Whether you read these words, wear the shirts, laugh at the penguin, or simply exist here with us — you make this space what it is: a place where it’s okay to be real, to be seen, and to honour the life you live, every messy, courageous day.

Kat at the Chateau Laurier after speaking, wearing the "Personally Victimized By My Body" shirt in grey.