My family and I went to Black Dog Books & Records; they were hosting a sidewalk sale. I looked but couldn’t find anything, so I went inside. I perused a few tables with books layered amongst each other and saw some interesting titles, but I went right to the independent literature section. Any indie lit is my cup of coffee; I grabbed a couple.
My wife came up behind me and handed me a book by Oliver Sacks called An Anthropologist on Mars. I noticed it earlier but passed over it. She suggested I get it, so being a book, I purchased it.
I’ve read other Oliver Sacks books, namely The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Musicophilia. He is a neurologist, naturalist, historian of science, and writer. When Sacks narrates his cases, he does so with great detail, concentrating on the patient experience. Despite their neurological condition, the patient seems always able to adapt.
At the end of his preface for An Anthropologist on Mars, he concludes:
“I have taken off my white coat, deserted, by and large, the hospitals where I have spent the last twenty-five years, to explore my subjects’ lives as they live in the real world, feeling in part like a naturalist, examining rare forms of life; in part like an anthropologist, a neuroanthropologist, in the field—but most of all like a physician, called here and there to make house calls, house calls at the far borders of human experience.”
He’s happy among the people he finds fascinating—those with conditions the rest of us can’t see.
I may scoff at such things: a man parking in a disabled space yet walking in the building without any visible problems; the girl who has to sit down every half-hour to “gather her thoughts”; that kid with the annoying stutter.
I am sick of seeing the world this way. I have to assume differently. I need to think differently.
There is social change within storytelling, and I want to tell it.
I want to find people who have secret illnesses—conditions they’re afraid to tell the world because of what that might do to their position in life; these people shoulder unique emotional baggage, after all.
There is stigma, financial stress, and workplace challenges. The American Archivist highlights how a workplace can help those with hidden disabilities.
“The best way to achieve inclusivity is to encourage all employees to model the behavior you want to see in others and to normalize disabilities and accommodations. In an environment where accommodations for everyone are normalized, many of the micro- or macro-aggressions may be eliminated from the workplace, as it can help remove the stigma surrounding disability.”1
I want to tell their story, but beyond that, I want to collaborate with them. I want their voice to feel empowered; they must tell their story for themselves and us.
Maybe it’s your story.
I am working on a prompt sheet that will inspire thoughts, emotions within those thoughts, and concrete language.
I can’t wait to finish it. I may contact you.
If so, I’m excited for you.
And thank you to everyone who’s reached out to me.
For anyone who feels ready, click the link below.
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Here’s a quick run-down of what I mean by hidden illnesses and conditions:
Mental Health Disorders
Depression
Anxiety Disorders
Bipolar Disorder
Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder
Autoimmune Diseases
Lupus
Multiple Sclerosis
Rheumatoid Arthritis
Chronic Pain Conditions
Fibromyalgia
Chronic Fatigue Syndrome
Migraines
Neurological Conditions
Epilepsy
Parkinson’s Disease (Early Stages)
Autism Spectrum Disorder
Endocrine Disorders
Diabetes
Thyroid Disorders
Digestive Disorders
Celiac Disease
Irritable Bowel Syndrome
Crohn’s Disease
Cardiovascular Conditions
Hypertension
Arrhythmias
Aneurysm
Genetic Disorders
Marfan Syndrome
Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome
I want people to see what people are going through daily; inclusivity will become natural.
This is the change I want to see.
Ann Abney; Veronica Denison; Chris Tanguay; Michelle Ganz. 2022. Understanding the Unseen: Invisible Disabilities in the Workplace. The American Archivist 85 (1): 88–103. https://doi.org/10.17723/2327-9702-85.1.88