Honoring International Day of Persons with Disabilities
By Jen Bennethum
December 3rd marked International Day of Persons with Disabilities—a day that invited us to move beyond awareness into action. Though the date has passed, the call remains: After years of learning from individuals navigating both trauma and disability, here's what actually helps.
Sometimes people will grow up with this story—that needing help makes us less capable, less worthy somehow. Maybe you recognize it too. This myth harms everyone, but particularly those navigating disability alongside trauma. Here's what changes everything: realizing that humans are wired for interdependence. We literally heal in connection, we thrive through support, we find strength in community. When someone uses mobility aids, requires communication devices, or needs medication to function, they're not failing at independence. They're succeeding at self-advocacy, showing us all what it means to know and honor our needs. The shift happens when we stop seeing accommodations as special treatment and start recognizing them as tools for equity, just like glasses help people see clearly.
"People's fear of accessing care didn't come out of nowhere. It came out of generations and centuries where needed care meant being locked up, losing your human and civil rights, and being subject to abuse." - Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha, Care Work: Dreaming Disability Justice
Trauma Responses in Public Spaces
We've all witnessed these moments—someone seeming "difficult" in a store, a coworker who "overreacts" to change. What if we paused before judging? That person who seems rude at the grocery store might be managing sensory overload while trying to feed their family. The coworker who struggles with schedule changes could be protecting stability that took years to build. When disability intersects with trauma, public spaces become navigation courses filled with potential triggers. Learning to recognize overwhelm changes how we show up for each other. Watch for signs like sudden stillness, repetitive movements, difficulty with eye contact, or abrupt communication changes. These aren't character flaws—they're nervous systems doing their best to cope. Creating space means lowering your voice, reducing questions, and offering simple choices: "Would you like to step outside?" or "Should I give you a few minutes?" Sometimes the kindest thing we can do is simply witness without trying to fix.
Energy as Currency
Imagine starting each day with a handful of coins, and every task—showering, answering emails, making breakfast—costs you. For many of us, energy feels unlimited until it suddenly isn't. But for people managing chronic illness, disability, or trauma recovery, this economy is visible daily. When someone cancels plans or seems "inconsistent," they're not being flaky. They're managing a budget you can't see, making impossible choices between self-care and social connection. Respecting this means believing people when they say they're at capacity, celebrating the energy they do share with you, and never comparing their Tuesday to their Saturday. Try asking "What do you need to preserve energy today?" instead of "Why can't you just push through?" It's a question that honors both their expertise and their humanity.
Language That Empowers
Words shape reality—we know this intuitively when we comfort a child or support a friend. Small shifts create profound changes, and you might be surprised how natural they feel once you start. Replace "suffers from" with "lives with" or "navigates." Instead of "wheelchair-bound," try "wheelchair user"—because for many, that chair represents freedom, not limitation. Swap "special needs" for "disability" or specific support needs. When someone shares their diagnosis or challenges, resist the urge to say "I never would have guessed" or "You don't look disabled." These intended compliments actually communicate that disability should be hidden or overcome. Try instead: "Thank you for trusting me with this" or simply "How can I best support you?" Notice how different that feels—both to say and to hear.
"Disability is not a brave struggle or 'courage in the face of adversity.' Disability is an art. It's an ingenious way to live." - Neil Marcus, playwright and disability advocate
Bottom-Up Tools for Allies
In our fix-it culture, we often reach for solutions before understanding what's actually needed. When someone you care about is overwhelmed, grand gestures rarely help. Bottom-up support means starting with the body's immediate needs—and this might feel counterintuitive at first. Offer water, not advice. Adjust lighting before asking questions. Create physical space—overwhelming situations often feel literally suffocating. Learn their sensory preferences during calm moments: some people calm with weight (like a jacket on their shoulders), others need movement, many benefit from temperature changes. Ask when they're regulated: "When you're overwhelmed, what helps your body feel safer?" Then remember and honor those preferences without requiring explanation in the moment. This is love in action—knowing someone well enough to offer what actually helps.
Moving Forward Together
Real change happens in small moments—choosing curiosity over assumption, offering support without requiring gratitude, adapting our environments rather than expecting others to constantly adapt. We all have moments of needing more than we can give, times when the world feels too fast or too much.
Maybe some of the things that you can do looks like… asking before helping, maybe it's examining your own discomfort with disability, maybe it's advocating for accessibility in your workplace. Notice how even thinking about these changes might bring up feelings—that's okay. That's human. Healing happens when we recognize that disability justice is everyone's work, and that creating truly inclusive communities requires us all to stretch beyond comfort into connection. We're all in this together, learning as we go. Please feel free to reach out to us at Integrate Therapy and Wellness Collective with questions or if you would like us to help walk and walk with you on your journey to wholeness.
