Image Description: In the foreground, a massive, muscular figure seen from the back wears a graduation gown and mortarboard, holding a book labeled “DIPLOMA.” They loom over a much smaller, scruffy student in the boxing ring.
Author Statement: “High school was a huge struggle for me. There were times when I thought I wouldn’t be able to graduate because it was so overwhelming. Every time I would go to school I felt panicked. Thanks to the support of my wonderful teachers and advisors I was able to graduate. They helped me set goals that I could achieve and pushed me to keep going. They never made me feel bad about needing accommodations and helped me build the confidence I needed to start advocating for myself more”
About the Author
Image Description: A person with light skin, wavy blonde hair, and round glasses smiles and wears a patterned teal shirt and a gold ring necklace.
Image Description: A artwork with 4 drawings. A black outline of a fish, a pink and purple object with pride written in it, a black outline of an eye with pride written under it, and a cluster of pink and purple dots. it is signed JM
Artist Bio: Jae Jae is a bisexual artist who explores identity, visibility, and self-acceptance through bold, symbolic linework.
In a conversation with Jae Jae, they shared that being accepted for their disability and sexuality through community was the most empowering.
As a student, I have always prioritized showing up, being attentive, and putting forth my best effort to be a strong and successful scholar. Not only for myself, but I also felt as though I owed it to my university, educators, peers, and loved ones to show up and succeed at all costs. However, it was not that simple. It was through experiences during my secondary education that I was able to accept the fact that I have a disability—and that is okay. My name is Chyna Jones, and I live with severe anxiety and depression.
Alone, the term disability presents a complex concept and is often associated with a negative connotation. At its core, it can be explained as a condition in which an individual experiences limitations due to physical and/or mental impairments. In my case, I experience mental illness, specifically severe anxiety and depression. As an individual, completing simple everyday tasks can be extremely challenging, as I often feel consumed by negative thoughts and sadness. Although I was diagnosed as an adolescent, it was not until my secondary education that I felt as though my disability controlled me and altered my thinking about myself and my experiences. For as long as I can remember, I had a clear vision of exactly what I wanted out of college, how I would get there, and the experiences that aligned with achieving those goals. Once I got to college and things were not exactly as I had envisioned, I felt triggers and symptoms from my disability creeping in faster than I could respond.
For instance, I ended up switching majors and selecting a different location for schooling, all within my first three semesters of college. In addition, I was working part-time, experiencing unstable housing, and caring for a parent who also suffered from similar disabilities. This was never part of the plan I had set for myself, so it felt impossible to accept. One may think, “These are ‘normal’ college student experiences,” but to me, they felt crippling and impossible to overcome. I often felt like a failure. I felt insufficient. I felt as though my time was running out. However, the most overwhelming feeling was self-doubt and disappointment. Over time, these feelings began to consume me, and the only thing I wanted to do was nothing.
Rhetorically, how does a full-time student succeed by doing nothing? The answer is that they do not. One by one, I watched my grades decline. I watched opportunities come and go. I watched my relationships with loved ones and educators weaken over time. All the while, feelings of disappointment, anger, and sadness increased and consumed me. Yet, I had no motivation, no drive, and no will to address these concerns. These were all clear signs that my mental health was worsening, yet I remained in denial about my disability. It was not until I was on the verge of losing my financial aid eligibility that I finally understood how serious the situation had become.
At this point, my advisors, educators, and close family members were concerned, and the issue could no longer be ignored. My parents encouraged me to be open and honest with my healthcare provider about my situation and the feelings I was experiencing. At the same time, my advisors and professors encouraged me to explore the resources offered to students with disabilities at my university while offering their support. This became a pivotal moment in my college career, because for the first time, I felt comfortable admitting and addressing the challenges influenced by my mental health. My physician implemented resources and shared vital techniques for managing my anxiety and depression. Simultaneously, I was approved for Accessible Educational Services (AES) through my university. The resources provided through AES were monumental in supporting me academically and in helping communicate my needs related to my disability to my professors.
With the implementation of appropriate resources and the realization that so many people were rooting for me, I was able to finish college strong and graduate in December 2025. A key component of my success was first accepting and acknowledging my disability. Once I accepted it without allowing it to define me, I felt free and empowered. Another important factor was taking advantage of available resources. These supports exist for a reason and should be utilized without feelings of inadequacy, judgment, or fear. Lastly, honesty played a crucial role in my success. Being honest with myself, my educators, my family, and my advisors was incredibly rewarding and beneficial to my mental clarity. Instead of judgment, I received support and gained insight into myself and ways to improve my daily life while living with a disability. In the end, everything worked out, and I was able to enjoy the conclusion of my college journey and look forward to the opportunities ahead.
About the Author
Image Description: Head-and-shoulders’ portrait of the applicant, Chyna Jones, turned slightly toward the camera. She is smiling and wearing a dark top against a light, neutral background.
Chyna Jones is a recent graduate seeking career opportunities in Health Information Management (HIM). She has developed a strong foundational understanding of managing patient health records, supporting healthcare information systems, and ensuring data integrity, privacy, and security. Chyna is detail-oriented, highly organized, and committed to contributing to the quality and efficiency of modern healthcare.
* CONTENT WARNING: This post deals with suicidal ideation.
To me being safe comes from feeling loved, accepted, wanted, needed, and valued. What happens when someone does not feel that way towards themselves? Meet me and my long struggle with depression and suicidality. My family and friends did provide those things. I just could not feel it towards myself. That dissonance seemed insurmountable, and it only made me feel worse, like nobody understood. Nobody saw the true me.
Did I feel safe? That is a resounding NO! I have a wonderful faith, and I just wanted to go to my heavenly home. No, it was not a hopeful wish. For many years, I was frustrated, worn, and wanted to die, but I did not want to hurt anyone I loved and cared about. It was this push/pull that exhausted and shamed me for what seemed like a lifetime. At times, I just did not care about how others would feel, which landed me in the psych ward too many times to count.
It was a rough road and a lot of unsafe years. God eventually put two strangers in my way, a very stubborn, patient and caring counselor and a gracious, thoughtful pastor I had heard preach once or twice that I now call friend. They just would not give up on me. My counselor just kept saying to hang on until WE get through this. She gave me room and support to share, heal and grow. My poor pastor, I would pour out all the ugliness I felt into emails that he would faithfully answer with gentleness and grace. I believe sometimes it was a nightly thing. I was never “to much to take.” Although they did not know each other, my counselor and my pastor, from time to time they would ask me what the other thought.
They were safe. They had not known me beforehand and had no idea who I was, if I was loveable, acceptable, and valuable. Now, of course, a counselor and pastor would think a person was loveable, acceptable and valuable, but that did not matter. They did not know me and therefore, there were no expectations I could fail to meet.
Through a lot of hard work, support, meds, and an encounter with God. I began to love and accept myself, to feel that I was wanted and needed, and I found my intrinsic value. I was able to accept the love and support my family and friends had to offer without feeling like a fraud.
I feel safe when I am heard.
In writing this, I left out so many memories, good and hard, that I could fill ten or twenty pages. I had supportive friends and family and other very good counselors throughout my struggle. I also left out that I have Cerebral Palsy which adds another layer of complexity. This was not on purpose. My depression was never about “if I could only speak clearly, or walk, or… then I would be happy.” I wanted to tell you about feeling safe.
My life was hard, but it is good.
About the Author
Image Description: Jennifer is smiling broadly with her long hair pulled back and wearing a purple shirt.
Author Bio:
I have been working with ICADV/IDJ since 2020. I have several disabilities, Cerebral Palsy and recurring depression. Working with and helping others are my favorite activities. I believe in promoting equality, equity and justice among all marginalized people. Faith is very important in guiding me through enjoying what life has to offer.v
