Skip to main content

Not All Disabilities Are Visible

Some pain does not leave a mark.

Some exhaustion does not show in the face.
Some people are carrying weights that have no name, no diagnosis, and no outward sign.

We are used to recognizing suffering only when it can be pointed to — a bandage, a crutch, a cast, a wound. Something we can see. But the human interior is its own world, and often, the heaviest struggles live there.

The Quiet Work of Holding Yourself Together

There are those who walk into a room smiling, contributing, present — and yet they are holding themselves together one breath at a time. Not because they are pretending, but because they have learned to live with what would overwhelm another person.

Some battles are fought inside the mind:

  • The slow grey of depression

  • The relentless hum of anxiety

  • The sudden, unbidden memory that takes the body back to a place it never wants to return

  • The deep fatigue that sleep does not cure

And yet, life continues.
The world moves.
The dishes still need to be washed.

We don’t receive medals for surviving the invisible.

Why We Learn to Hide

Many people do not speak of their struggles because the world often demands proof before it offers compassion.

Explain your sadness.
Justify your exhaustion.
Show the reason.
Convince us it matters.

And when the cause is not visible, measurable, or dramatic — the response is often:
“But you look fine.”

So people learn silence.
They learn to function.
They learn to smile through the weight.

Not because they are strong — but because being strong became the only way to be believed.

The Body Keeps the Record

Even when no one else sees, the body does not forget.

Anxiety tightens the chest.
Trauma changes breath.
Depression slows movement.
Stress becomes headaches, ulcers, chronic fatigue.

The body speaks the truths the mouth learned not to say.

Gentleness Is Not Weakness

“Not all disabilities are visible” is not only a statement about illness — it is also a call to humility.

Because we do not always know what someone is carrying.

The colleague who seems withdrawn may be holding off a panic attack.
The friend who cancels plans may be trying to survive the day.
The person who moves slowly may be fighting a body that refuses to cooperate.

What looks like laziness, disinterest, or coldness
may actually be someone doing the hard work of functioning.

An Invitation to Softness

If we cannot see everything, we can at least soften our conclusions.

We don’t need to know someone’s story to be gentle with them.
We don’t need to understand to offer patience.
We don’t need evidence to choose kindness.

The truth is simple:

You are always meeting people in the middle of something.

So move with care.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Know Thyself: The Quiet Power of Naming Your Nature

“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” — Carl Jung We live in a culture that equates good intentions with goodness, and ambition with ability. But very few people in Kenya—or anywhere—truly know what they are made of. We can name our qualifications and our dreams. But ask someone their vices or virtues, and they hesitate. Worse, they lie. The Danger of Self-Unawareness In Kenya today, many of us are wandering through life making choices—big, small, and irreversible—without truly understanding who we are. We end up in jobs we despise, relationships we shouldn’t be in, or positions of influence we aren’t emotionally or ethically equipped for. And at the root of this dysfunction is a simple truth: we don’t know ourselves. This is not a spiritual or abstract dilemma. It’s a deeply practical one. To know oneself is to understand your vices, your virtues, your weaknesses, and your strengths—not in a vague sense, but in detail. Let’s ge...

The Loud Silence: Why Kenya Is Drowning in Noise—and What It's Costing Us

  “Beware the bareness of a busy life,” Socrates once said. But what about the loudness of a distracted one? From matatus blaring vulgar music, to church keshas echoing through residential estates, to restaurants where conversation is a fight against speakers—it seems Kenya has made noise the background of everyday life. But what is this obsession with sound? What is all this noise trying to drown out? Noise as Culture, But Also as Coping Let’s be clear: noise has always had a place in Kenyan culture. Luo benga, Kikuyu folk tunes, Luhya drumming, Swahili taarab… music and sound are part of celebration, spirituality, and storytelling. But what we’re experiencing now is different. What we’re hearing now is not cultural expression—it’s emotional avoidance. The Psychology of Noise: What Are We Running From? 1. Noise and Loneliness We live in a time of increasing isolation. Nairobi apartments are filled with single occupants. Friendships are transactional. Family members drift emo...