Fall for Inclusion: Caring in the Shadows
This week is Invisible Disabilities Week, but at The Ability Company, we prefer the term unapparent disabilities — because it’s more inclusive and accurate. These are disabilities you can’t see, but they shape every part of a person’s life. And when you’re the caregiver, they shape yours too.
Being a caregiver for someone with an unapparent disability is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done — not because of the person I care for, but because of how the world treats us.
People don’t see the disability, so they don’t believe it. And when you’re the caregiver, you’re often treated like the problem. I’ve had people look at me and say, “Why are you even here?” or “They look fine to me.” As if I’m overreacting. As if I should just leave.
But I’m there because they need support — and because the world doesn’t make space for people who experience life differently.
Unapparent disabilities are often misunderstood — they’re questioned, dismissed, and minimized which makes caregiving even harder. I’m not just managing routines, appointments, and emotional regulation — I’m managing judgment. I’m managing the constant pressure to explain, justify, and defend.
And the hardest part? The isolation.
When people don’t understand, they pull away. They stop inviting you. They stop checking in. They stop showing up. And suddenly, you’re not just a caregiver — you’re alone. You lose friendships, community, and connection. Not because you changed, but because your life became something others didn’t want to deal with.
I see the person I care for retreat and eventually exclude themselves from most things. They feel like their only option is isolation because the world doesn’t feel safe or welcoming. And as their caregiver, I feel that isolation too. I don’t want to drown with them — but I’m there, holding the life jacket. I’m there in the quiet, in the hard moments, in the spaces no one else wants to enter.
And when the person you’re caring for isn’t (blood) family — when it’s someone you chose — people understand it even less. They question your commitment. They wonder why you stay. They don’t see the love, the loyalty, the responsibility. They just see inconvenience.
It’s not easy. I’m not perfect. I can only do so much. But I do it because it matters. Because they matter.
What Inclusion Really Means
Inclusion means recognizing that not all disabilities are visible — and not all support looks the same. It means asking instead of assuming. It means making space for people who move through the world differently — and for the people who walk beside them.
It means seeing caregivers as a main character, not just extras in a movie. It means giving them grace—because they’re often running on empty, making impossible choices with love as their compass. Caregivers don’t get to clock out; they choose to show up every day, even when it’s hard, even when no one sees. So let’s make it easier on them, not harder. Let’s offer support without judgment, flexibility without guilt, and kindness without condition. Because behind every person being cared for is someone quietly carrying the weight—and they deserve to be held too.
Disclaimer - The Ability Company
The opinions shared in our blogs reflect personal experiences and viewpoints. They’re not meant to represent every journey or replace professional advice.
This content is for informational purposes only and does not replace professional advice. The Ability Company makes no guarantees about accuracy or completeness and is not liable for decisions made based on this content. Use at your own discretion.
