“Why Would Anyone Want Me?” | Life With Disability & Chronic Illness

A photo of me, a young white female with long brown hair and blue eyes. I am seen from the shoulders up and I am looking straight ahead. I am not smiling
Me, aged 33

“I can’t see why anyone would want me”

As a disabled blogger, this is by far the most common message I receive from readers and followers – particularly those in their twenties, living with disabilities and chronic illness.

For anyone out there who has ever felt this way, I get it. I hear you!

Born in 1988 with a rare progressive condition (Ullrich congenital muscular dystrophy), I’ve personally struggled with various insecurities and a lack of self-worth my whole life.

For me, the belief that “no one would ever want me” was fuelled by cruel comments, ignorance and exclusion.

Growing up, I felt invisible, unseen, overlooked, and yet, painfully inescapably obvious to all. I wanted to hide away, and, at the same time, longed for someone to notice me. To see me, the person beyond the disability.

A photo of me, aged 15, with blonde hair and sad, sallow eyes. I'm looking straight at the camera. I have my hand to my mouth.
Me, aged 15

I was one of only two disabled students at a mainstream high school, surrounded by 700 able-bodied kids. I stuck out like a sore thumb! I was the anomaly. And, I was ever-aware of it.

Seated in my manual wheelchair, unable to transfer, weight-bear or self-propel, completely reliant on others for mobility, I felt helpless, useless, a burden.

At 13, during the month of May, I was admitted to hospital with pneumonia. One of many bouts throughout my life. I didn’t tell anyone at school. No one noticed my absence. No one asked. It seemed, no one cared.

Experiences such as this further exacerbated my introversion, isolation, my mistrust in others and the overwhelming thought that I was better off alone. You can only really rely on yourself, right?

My health has always been, for lack of a better word, crap! Deteriorating with the progression of time. It is an incredibly limiting factor. So too is relying on carers. I can’t get myself in or out of bed, I can’t dress or undress myself, I can’t drive, or work. What do I bring to the table?

Me, aged approx 30, sat in a hospital waiting room wearing a face mask
Me, aged approx 30, sat in a hospital waiting room wearing a face mask

Spontaneity, what’s that? Everywhere I go, everything I do must be pre-planned. And often, those plans fall through when my chronic fatigue forbids me from leaving my bed for the entire day.

It’s no fun! It’s beyond frustrating and bloody miserable at times.

Why would anyone choose this life? Why would anyone choose to be with me? What can I offer?

I’ll be honest with you, these questions continue to plague my thoughts every now and then. Like a lingering grey cloud that will never pass by entirely.

A selfie of me, looking in the mirror, seated in my powered wheelchair. I have long, mid-brown hair and I'm wearing a grey cardigan and white leggings. In this photo, I am aged 33
Me, in my Sunrise You-Q Luca powered wheelchair. Aged 33

Yes, I’ve had romantic relationships. Some good, some not so good. I’ve dated both able-bodied and disabled guys.

My brief stint on dating app Hinge was an experience! Guys can be shamelessly brutal, often telling me I’m no one’s type and they wouldn’t consider dating a disabled girl. Though tough to hear, I was never surprised, nor do I bear any resentment.  Everyone has freedom of choice and can date whoever they want. I never felt any desire or inclination to convince anyone of my worth.

I won’t lie, my health issues and physical disability did present challenges, cause tension and resentment within relationships. Things were said that are forever imprinted in my memory.

The saying goes, “love is all you need”. I don’t believe this to be true. I think trust, loyalty and the ability to care for someone even in the darkest of times is arguably more important.

Love was very much present in one of my previous relationships, but deep down, I knew it wouldn’t last because I couldn’t rely on him. He was all in on the good days. But on the bad days – my bad days – it became increasingly clear that he wasn’t invested. He couldn’t cope. Love alone wasn’t enough.

A photo of me taken from behind - my face cannot be seen. I am at Whitby, looking out to the sea. I am seated in my powered wheelchair. My hair is tied up in a messy bun. In this photo, I am aged approximately 27
Me, in my Quantum powered wheelchair, aged approx 27

I don’t want to feed you empty clichés or try to convince you it will all work out in the end; that there’s someone for everyone. Because relationships are hard, even without the added complexities of a disability or chronic illness!

What I will say, what I want to emphasise to anyone reading this, is to focus on your relationship with yourself. Be kind to yourself, prioritise your health, your wants and needs. Stop worrying about what others may or may not think of you. Does it really matter?

A black and white graphic image of a male wheelchair-user kissing the hand of a female wheelchair-user

When you do meet someone who is worthy of you, (yes, we’re ALL worthy of love, affection and intimacy), don’t try to hide your struggles and insecurities. Be open, honest and real with them. Let them see you at your very worst.

Some will cut and run. You will face rejection. We all do. This is part of life. Don’t waste your tears over these people. Trust me, it’s not worth it!

It’s easy to find friends and lovers when you’re young, fit, able and care-free.

But, this is where those of us living with debilitating conditions hold the advantage (lucky us!). Because our lives are far from easy and care-free. We can trust that the people who choose to be with us, no matter what, truly do care.

Darker Days & Silver Linings

Happy Halloween, folks!

As much as I love the spooky season, I’ll be glad to see the end of October this year.

I fell ill on the first Saturday of the month, and I’m still not fully recovered.

It’s now over 4 weeks since I left the house, or saw anyone other than immediate family and carers.

For me, this isn’t unusual. Prolonged periods of chronic illness and isolation are, unfortunately, all too familiar.

A simple cold can very quickly progress into pneumonia – a frequent occurrence over the years, resulting in lengthy hospital admissions.

The vast majority of people don’t understand how I can be so ill for so long. Why would they? It’s hard to comprehend something you’ve no knowledge or experience of.

Muscular Dystrophy

This is why my primary aim is to inform and raise awareness of the rare condition, Ullrich congenital muscular dystrophy.

Most so-called medical professionals are totally clueless. It’s therefore no surprise that I’m met with blank faces when telling people about my disability.

Muscular Dystrophy? What’s that?

Explaining the ins and outs of my condition and how it affects me, can be exhausting. But it’s also important.

I’m almost 34, and, for me, the most debilitating and frustrating part of my disability is the daily fatigue and impact on my respiratory health.

As the saying goes, ‘health is wealth’.

Living with Chronic Illness

It can be incredibly difficult to remain optimistic when living with a progressive condition and chronic illness.

This past month has been tough!

Following three decades of cancelled plans, missed opportunities, and life on pause, here are a few things I’ve learnt:

1. Never make decisions when at your lowest.

2. Try not to withdraw or push people away. Knowing I’m unable to commit to plans, it can be easier to distance myself from people to avoid letting them down.

3. Reach out to loved ones.

4. Find joy in simple things.

5. Don’t waste valuable time, energy and effort on that which doesn’t serve you.

6. Set goals and make plans!

7. Focus on what and who matters most to you.

Navigating Love & Life as a Disabled Woman | Muscular Dystrophy

Let’s be honest, when we’re young, we’re all enticed by a pretty face or a good body. Attraction is primarily physical, and to put it bluntly, at 18, most of us would shag anything with a pulse – opportunity is everything.

I cringe when looking back at some of the guys I fancied and gave my attention to! What the bloody hell was I thinking?!

Each to their own, but I was never a one-night-stand type. And not because I’m a tiny, delicate woman in a wheelchair, and therefore more vulnerable. That didn’t even occur to me. Oh, the naivety of youth!

A collage of four photos of me in my powered wheelchair

Much later, I reluctantly signed up to dating app Hinge, which lasted a total of two months.

I tried modern dating (eurgh!), which, in my limited experience, seemed to consist of shallow idiots and the phrases “you’re no one’s type”, “get in the car!” and, “let’s book a hotel room”.

Responding with a firm no, I was told to “fuck off then”.

There are some lovely people out there!

On reflection, it probably wasn’t the best idea to tell one bloke that his car was shit, but it made me laugh as I rolled home alone in my powered wheelchair.

Growing up, a friend of mine repeatedly told me, “you need a big strong guy to pick you up and throw you around”.

I can see where she was coming from, but even as a young teen, I always thought, why? Don’t I just want someone to care?

Eventually, I did date that guy – the gym guy. And yes, for the first few months it was great. It was fun, liberating, and as another friend once said, “he gave you a sense of independence and adventure”.  She was totally right.

In terms of practicality, it made life a hell of a lot easier for me, as a non-ambulatory wheelchair-user. For a fleeting moment, I thought that was what I wanted.

But, ultimately, I couldn’t rely on him and I felt very much like an option, a burden, and too much to take on due to my disability. He was physically incredibly strong, but mentally and emotionally very weak.

I didn’t realise it at the time, but at that stage, I was willing to accept the bare minimum – stupid girl!

I invested my time and energy in the wrong place, the wrong person.

The experience changed my outlook and, as cliché as it sounds, made me realise my worth.

You live, you learn, you move on.

As we get older, our perspective, values and priorities change.

These days, I can’t think of anything worse than attempting to flirt (awkwardly) with some Tinder clone. Quite frankly, I’d rather cuddle up at home, alone, with a nice cuppa tea!

At 33, my life certainly isn’t as I imagined or hoped for as a kid. Then again, with age comes the realisation that life rarely turns out as planned.

I’m no longer impressed by aesthetics. Trust me, a pretty face will only get you so far in life.

Above all, what I want is someone to care, unconditionally. Simple as that.

Don’t we all??

Don’t get me wrong, I cherish my alone time and independence, and I’m more than capable of caring for and supporting myself (mentally, anyway).

I’ve endured a fair amount of crap and spent over 90% of my life single. I’m certainly not the type to need a man.

I’m not interested in grand gestures, a lavish lifestyle, fancy house, or gym-bods!

But, for someone to choose you, want you, and stand by you, even when the shit hits the fan – especially when the shit hits the fan! That, to me, means the world.

Me, in my powered wheelchair, looking out to sea

My Disabled Body | Muscular Dystrophy

Anyone who knows me will tell you I’m incredibly self-conscious of my disabled body.

I’m much more of a behind-the-scenes presence, and I hate being photographed!

My insecurities have deepened over the years, as my condition (Ullrich congenital muscular dystrophy) has progressed.

My spine is curved significantly in a ‘S’ shape, shortening my torso and causing asymmetry. I am underweight with muscle degeneration, and contractures in all of my joints.

Oh, and I am a ghostly shade of pale!

Being so very slight of stature and a non-ambulatory powered wheelchair-user, clothes are ill-fitting, often uncomfortable and don’t drape well.

Most of the time I feel like a bag of crap!

As a kid, though aware of the physical differences between myself and my peers, I really didn’t care. I was generally happy with a good group of friends.

Me, wearing school uniform, aged 4
Me (right) with a primary school friend (left)
Aged 8, sat in my manual wheelchair at school
Me (second from left), aged 9, with primary school friends
Me, aged 9, with primary school friends
On holiday, in my manual wheelchair. Aged approx 12

But, of course, kids (and adults) can be blunt, and, sometimes cruel with their words and observations. As time went on, I was subjected more and more to stares, pointing, judgement and exclusion.

I became a full-time wheelchair-user at the age of 10.

Back then, it was very much a case of ‘suck it up and get on with it, these are the cards you’ve been dealt’.

Looking back, I guess it affected me more than I realised.

My teens were hard. I became increasingly withdrawn, conscious of what I consider my flaws, and constantly compared myself to other girls, wishing I looked like them.

Me, aged approx 15
Me, aged approx 17, trying to avoid the camera

Then came the dating years…

Comments such as, “you’re no one’s type” and “no one’s going to want you” massively impacted my self-perception and relationships.

Somewhere along the way, I lost myself and my sense of identity.

Now aged 33, I appear more child-like than womanly. I can honestly say, I’ve never felt sexy, or even attractive, in my entire life!

I’m not body-confident, and I don’t think I ever will be. I still compare myself to others and shy away from people, places and opportunities.

But, I am really trying to accept the fact that there is nothing I can do about my body. It is what it is – unique. I need to make the best of what I do have.

If others don’t like it, that’s absolutely fine, but they can kindly fuck off!

In an attempt to push myself out of hermit mode, I recently ‘dressed up’, took some sour-faced selfies, and posted them on Instagram…

…Excuse the Listerine in the background, haha!

The response was positive, complimentary and sincere. It gave me the confidence to write this post and ‘put myself out there’.

Why? Because I am what I am. I’m not “normal”. But what is “normal”, anyway?

33 | Getting “Old” With Muscular Dystrophy

According to Generation Z, once you hit 30, you’re OLD!!

Photo of an old woman, wearing sunglasses and holding up both middle fingers

I recently turned 33 (positively primeval!) which, I guess, means I should be stocking up on Pond’s wrinkle cream, Werther’s Original, and tea – lots of tea!

Considering I still look 12 – a blessing and a curse – I might save my pennies and give the wrinkle cream a miss. I do love a cuppa, though.

A fairly recent selfie of me, in my powered wheelchair, wearing ‘old lady’ fluffy socks and no makeup

33

This year’s birthday was a tough one…

In October, I caught Covid (bit of a buggar!), which hit me hard.

“Normal” life came to an abrupt halt and, 5 weeks later, I’m still struggling with breathlessness, pain and exacerbated chronic fatigue.

For those of you who don’t know, I was born with a rare form of Muscular Dystrophy – a progressive condition. Consequently, my lung function is total crap, immunity impaired, and a significant scoliosis causes my internal organs to fight for space.

Illustration provided courtesy of ‘The Disabled Life

~ Find out more about my life with Congenital Muscular Dystrophy ~

I’m a seasoned pro when it comes to extended periods of enforced isolation and inactivity, resulting from a lifetime of ill health. Fortunately, I’m more than comfortable with my own company!

In all seriousness, spending your days sat in the same chair, in the same room, attached to a ventilator 24/7, unable to make it as far as the kitchen, let alone leave the house – it’s…really not good!

This latest period of downtime allowed me to reflect on my 33 years – what I’ve learned, and what I want to focus on going forward.

My Life Lessons

  • Stop caring what others think of me

    (because, actually, they’re probably not thinking anything)

I can trace this back to a comment made by a fellow pupil at primary school who told me, you look normal when you sit down but really weird when you walk”.

A photo of me, aged 4 or 5, wearing primary school uniform and visible leg splints

I remember it vividly and, ever since, I’ve been painfully self-conscious, particularly about my appearance. But, now I’m ‘old’, I’m trying not to care about the opinions of others, especially total strangers.

Take me as I am or not at all.

  • Be my true, authentic self

I once had a (sort of) date which ended up in the guy’s completely bare bedroom. In this room was only a bed, some strewn clothes and a copy of, Alice in Wonderland. Rather than attempt to flirt and seduce (yeah, I’m cool), I turned my attention to the book and asked what it meant to him.

His answer made an impression on me:

“I like it because it’s about being open-minded, being yourself, holding onto your identity, and being comfortable with who you are. I’m weird, you’re weird, everyone’s weird! And that’s a good thing, in my view.”

Man, he was…DEEP!

  • Don’t waste my time, effort or tears on those who don’t care

I think, for most of us, our social circle becomes smaller as we age. And this isn’t a bad thing! On the contrary, you learn who you can be your unfiltered self with, who is willing to tell it as it is, who has your back, and who you can count on when times are hard – the ‘no matter what’ friends and family.

I am guilty of investing too much energy into the wrong people. But, from here on, I will realise my worth and focus only on those who bring joy to my life.


Well, I must now bring this lengthy blog post to a close and get back to my milky tea and digestive biscuits.

~ The content old fart that I am!

Image of an old lady happily drinking a cup of tea

I Caught Covid

For the past three weeks, I’ve been battling Covid, having tested positive on 27th October. I was, in fact, due to receive my booster jab the following day. Bloody typical! Despite being double vaccinated, the virus hit me hard, really hard.

A selfie, taken on 24th October – the day I caught Covid-19

Physically disabled from birth, I’m one of the many considered ‘clinically extremely vulnerable’.

My condition, Ullrich congenital muscular dystrophy, is rare, progressive and affects lung function. This is made worse by a spine that’s as crooked as a question mark and a squashed torso.

I’ve always been a “sickly kid”, susceptible to respiratory viruses, which become more and more difficult to overcome, the older I get.

Throughout my 32 years, a considerable amount of time has been spent in hospital. I’ve endured several bouts of pneumonia, pleurisy and a collapsed lung. Furthermore, my immune system is very much suppressed and affected by at least 15 surgeries under general anaesthetic – I stopped counting after a while.

It’s fair to say, my fragile, little body has taken a battering. And I am tired.

These days, it takes at least a month before I even begin to improve. Life quite literally comes to a stop. Once symptomatic, I become dependent on my BiPap ventilator 24/7. I go from bed, to chair, to bathroom. And that is how I exist. Time becomes meaningless and the days merge into one.

~ I’m not including photos of myself whilst ill because, well, I don’t want to. I don’t have the energy or interest for selfies, and, I don’t want pity. I don’t allow anyone other than my parents to see me in this state, it’s simply personal choice. ~

Few people really empathise and grasp the seriousness of the situation, which I totally appreciate. It’s difficult to comprehend something you haven’t seen or experienced for yourself. Admittedly, 20 year-old me wouldn’t understand either.

Life back then was very different. I was a night owl, regularly staying up until 4am and feeling fine the next day. I completed a coursework focused university degree, spending some days on campus from 9am – 9pm, followed by a 40 minute drive home. Though never a party girl, I did my fair share of drinking and socialising. Trips away with friends involving going out all day and every night, then clambering back to the hotel in the early hours just didn’t affect me. I had the energy and ability to do the things I wanted to do, and it was fun.

These days, it takes everything I have to get out of bed (assisted by carers) and shower.

It’s not the life I wanted or hoped for. But it’s all I have to work with. And yes, it does affect my mood, attitude, point of view and relationships.

A LOT of my time is spent resting. Of course, I would much rather be out, exploring, experiencing, making memories, living it up, and doing fun, daring, exciting activities. But I simply can’t.

Though I try to hide the severity of my condition, a select few people, whom I trust and am closest to, know how much I struggle.

I only told four people about my Covid diagnosis. Mainly because, well, it isn’t the happiest subject, is it! And right now, all of my resources are focused on recovery.

Inevitably, word gets around, and neighbours as well as family friends are also now aware. And they’ve been absolutely incredible.

Flowers from friends

To the people who expressed genuine concern, care and support – thank you so very much! You know who you are, and I value each and every one of you.

“Thinking of you” flowers

The generous gifts, cards and daily messages have been a huge comfort. I’ve even received medical supplies, vitamins and immune boosting supplements from friends! Real friends who step-up when life is pretty shitty.

Knowing that people care is worth more than anything in life.

My constant companion

To close this rather rambly and inarticulate post, I want to pay the biggest tribute to my parents, particularly my mum, who has patiently cared for me throughout, and not left my side. It’s not only my life that’s been put on hold by Covid, but theirs too.

For those who don’t know, I still live with my parents, in their home. It’s far from ideal and we do butt heads from time to time. But the love and loyalty is unconditional.

My mum is 67, suffers from arthritis, and, four years ago, underwent knee replacement surgery. She’s lead an incredibly challenging life, which I won’t go into. She is an UNPAID carer. She does not receive a single penny to care for me, and yet, she does it without question or complaint.

To whoever is reading this, please acknowledge the country’s thousands of unseen, undervalued, unpaid carers. Let’s raise awareness of the situation and show them some care, support and gratitude!

Those who work regular 9-5 jobs get to come home at the end of the day and relax. For family carers, the work never ends. It is relentless, grueling, and it impacts their lives as well as their mental and physical health.

Something has to change!

A Year Offline | Sept 2020 – 21

My last post was the first after a year’s absence!

So, what have I been doing in that time?

  • Well, I dyed my hair – wild, I know
From blonde (above) to brunette-ish (below)
  • Went even wilder and got filler + botox…
Making a dick of myself with a filtered selfie

…No, not really!! 😂

  • Embraced fluffy socks to hide my corpse feet (even when leaving the house!)
Me, sat in my powered wheelchair, wearing comfy fluffy socks
  • Accidently drove my wheelchair into the bathroom sink, bashing my knee – ouch!
Me and my bloody knee!
Me and my bloody knee!
  • Redecorated my bedroom and deliberated for too long over duvet covers
  • Failed at knitting so took up crochet
  • Started learning French through Duolingo. In my opinion, so much easier than lessons at school! Although, to be fair, I did spend most of my time staring out of the window
  • Learned to play pool…online…sorta…
  • Went to my first ever supercar festShelsley Walsh Hill Climb. I’ll be honest, I haven’t a clue about cars but it was a fun day and something different
Shelsley Walsh Hill Climb – Supercar Fest
Me, sitting in my powered wheelchair (held together by tape!), watching the hill climb at Supercar Fest
Supercar Fest – August 2021
  • A particular highlight was our accessible canal boat ride through the prehistoric Dudley tunnels, mined during the Industrial Revolution. We got soaked (from the rain; we didn’t fall in the canal), and I ended up looking like Alice Cooper with mascara running down my face. But it was memorable!
The Black Country Living Museum
Our accessible canal boat
Dudley canal and tunnels

Despite restrictions, I’ve managed to get out and about a fair bit – Roaming around aimlessly in the car, wandering along accessible forest trails, casually entering a local arboretum without paying, and even attempting the Malvern Hills!

Our view from Black Hill, Malvern

Taking on the great outdoors is definitely challenging in a powered wheelchair, and it’s been met with limited success. But, for me, it’s not what you do but who you do it with.

Grabbing a Tesco meal deal with someone you love ♥ is (to me) far more precious than partying with a room full of semi-drunk acquaintances.

(Photo credits: All media copyright CarrieA & JV)

Long Time Gone

It’s been a whole year since I last blogged!

Did you miss me? No, I wouldn’t either!

This wasn’t a conscious decision at all. I simply don’t believe in churning out meaningless content purely for the sake of it, so felt it best to wait.

A lot has happened over the past 12 months, both good and bad…

Of course, we’ve endured lockdown and are continuing to feel the effects of Covid, with many disabled and chronically ill people still shielding.

To protect myself and others, I received the Astra Zeneca vaccine back in March – Woop!

While this offers a lot of relief and reassurance, it is important to remain considerate of the many thousands, like me, who are high risk.

Covid isn’t going away, but neither are we! Disabled people are very much a part of society and we should not be ignored or disregarded.

To further protect myself through the harsh winter months, I’ll be getting the Flu jab at the end of September – A thoroughly beneficial prick! I urge you all to do the same, if possible.


On a personal note, we sadly lost my Nan back in January. A tough old bird ‘til the end, she made it to 94, despite smoking forty-a-day, from the age of 12-70!

I will miss her endlessly engaging, witty stories.

My Nan and I, around 30 years ago

We recently gathered as a family to scatter her ashes alongside Stourbridge canal. Despite the occasion, it was actually a really lovely day.

My 4 year-old nephew was an absolute star, “helping to push” me, in my powered wheelchair, the entire way along the bumpy canal path. That kid keeps me going – literally!

My 4 year-old nephew, wearing my sunglasses, during our family gathering

Accompanying us was the newest addition to the family, my gorgeous niece, baby Sophie, born in June. A funky-haired little ray of sunshine.

Me and my niece, baby Sophie, in June 2021

Next month, I’ll be glamming up to attend the wedding of one of my best friends. Having known each other for over 20 years, I’m excited and proud to see her walk down the aisle.

I will attempt to take photos on the big day, but make no promises. I may be distracted by cocktails! Pray there be cocktails…

Beyond that, my plan is to fully embrace the approaching crisp autumn days and cosy nights with hot chocolates, candles and cuddly blankets. Yes, I’m old. Do I care? Naaaaaah!

Oh, this year, I also discovered I really dislike figs! They have the strangest texture. Much like chewing on the sand smothered sandwiches my mum used to make for us to eat on the beach as kids. Mmm, gritty!

Dating with a Disability | Q&A

In part one, I shared my personal experiences with dating as a non-ambulatory wheelchair-user, as well as some motivational advice.

Part two is a little more light-hearted, giving an insight into some amusing dating disasters!

In this third and final offering, I answer ALL of your burning questions…

Instagram Q&A

(Above): Thanks to my mate, Ross Lannon for this delightful contribution!

Twitter/Facebook Questions

Q: What tips do you have for disabled people who don’t understand why someone would want to date them?

A: I think it’s natural to lack confidence and feel insecure, regardless of (dis)ability. I’m sure we have all felt this way to some extent. This comes down to how we perceive ourselves and self-worth. I do think we need to find happiness and contentment within ourselves before entering into a potential relationship. Believe me, I know how difficult this is! Also, there comes a point where you just have to take a leap of faith and trust that what this person says is sincere. If they tell you they like you and enjoy your company, trust them! Don’t question it – you will drive yourself mad and eventually irritate them too. Yes, it might go nowhere, but at least you will have allowed yourself that opportunity. Dating is all about confidence, self belief, taking risks and having fun. I hope this helps!

Q: What is the biggest challenge you have faced?

A: Again, for me, it’s all about realising my worth. I am very self-critical and have, at times, convinced myself that no one could ever want me. I thought I was too much to take on; an unnecessary burden. Why would anyone date me when they could go out with an able-bodied girl? But I have been proven wrong. Initially, I was very sceptical and found it hard to believe guys when they told me they liked me. But I soon realised I was doing myself no favours; this was self-destructive behaviour.

Q: What are your biggest insecurities?

A: My body and physical limitations. I am non-ambulant, incredibly petite and have a significant scoliosis (curvature of the spine). I don’t look “normal” and I don’t have a curvy, womanly physique. I would try desperately to disguise this with baggy clothes, and felt embarrassed by my child-sized stature. However, I now make a point of celebrating my tiny, “pixie” frame. After all, being small has it’s advantages! I’m easy to carry and throw around! I am what I am. There’s nothing I can do to change my body. If people don’t like it, that’s absolutely fine – it’s their problem, not mine!

Q: How and when do you reveal your disability and limitations when dating?

A: This can be difficult! For me, it isn’t as simple as, “I can’t walk”. My disability comes with many challenges and health implications. It’s hard trying to explain this to someone who has no knowledge or familiarity with my condition, without overwhelming them with information. I think it’s important that you are willing to answer questions, however silly they might seem. Personally, I don’t take offence when guys ask if I can feel and if I’m able to have sex. It’s natural curiosity! It doesn’t mean that’s all they’re interested in.

Dating Disasters

Following my last post, I was encouraged to write more on the subject of dating with a disability. Not that I’m much of a dater. I don’t do the apps (other than a brief stint on Hinge) or actively chat up blokes. If it happens, it happens.

A mate told me to share some dating disaster stories. I’m not sure there have been any disasters, as such. Rather, a few funny anecdotes.

One took place on a freezing cold day in January – not ideal. He wrapped his coat around me, which was quite sweet. He wouldn’t let me keep it (less sweet, methinks) but I did steal his hat!

Another date (if you can call it that) was with a 34 year-old guy from dating app, Hinge. Though stereotypically attractive – clean cut with washboard abs – he really wasn’t my type at all.

Still, I was encouraged to go for it, mainly because he’s older and, in theory, more mature. So, on a whim, after months of chatting on/off, I agreed to meetup.

This lead to possibly the most awkward and stale encounter I’ve ever experienced. I’m not sure if he was going for the brooding, ‘treat them mean, keep them keen’ thing, but it translated as pure arrogance. Plus, he had zero sense of humour and was somewhat full of shit.

He claimed to have dated Ellie Goulding and that one of her songs was written about him. Google disagrees!

The only thing he seemed interested in was his car (which, I may have inadvertently insulted. I amused myself, anyway), and getting a hotel room there and then.

Now, each to their own, but I’ve never been into meaningless one night stands. Plus, let’s be real for a second, I’m a girl. A “vulnerable” girl. So if a guy can’t appreciate why I don’t want to hook-up within 10 minutes of meeting, well, sod off mate!

So, in the end I told him I was off home for my tea (yes, I really said that).

I took the long route and nagged a mate on the phone on my way. As I rolled along the riverside in my chair, a little kid waved enthusiastically at me. That made me smile and was most definitely the highlight of my evening. Kids are so much easier than men!

Prior to this, I met up with a lad I went to school with. He’s a bit quirky with long, dark, wavy hair and piercing blue eyes – ding, ding!!

Somehow, we got chatting after some 15 years, and I went to his place. There was no plan or agenda on my part. Yes, I fancied him – a little – but I’m terrible at the whole flirty thing.

Now, I’m completely non-ambulant and haven’t been up a flight of stairs in many years. So, despite worrying that I’d be dropped on the floor in a heap, I trusted him to carry me up to his room where he plonked me on his bed.

After a fair amount of kissing and rolling around, the boy got a bit excited and, well, released his manly juices over my lovely top! Mmm, crusty!

You may be surprised to learn this beautiful union developed no further.