There is a strange expectation placed on disabled and chronically ill people that once we've reached some mythical state of “acceptance”, we're supposed to be completely at peace with everything that comes with it. We should have embraced our bodies, found the silver lining, become impressively resilient and perhaps even be grateful for everything our experiences have taught us. Preferably while smiling. I don't think acceptance works like that. You can accept that disability

You know what needs doing. The email is still sitting there, patiently. The washing has been in the basket long enough that it may now qualify as a permanent fixture. You've been meaning to book that appointment for about three weeks, and you've thought about it — really thought about it — more times than it would have taken to just pick up the phone. None of this has slipped your mind. That's the part that makes it confusing. You haven't forgotten. You've thought about it at