Keisha Greaves is the founder of Girls Chronically Rock, an adaptive fashion consultant, and a self-advocate. In a new blog series, Keisha will share her story, as well as her perspective on key issues for the disability community. In this entry, Keisha writes about the mental health challenges of living with a disability.
Living with a disability is complex. It’s a full-time job layered with unpredictable emotions, physical challenges, and bureaucratic hurdles that can weigh down even the most resilient spirit. Add mental health into the mix, which is a real and often invisible companion to many physical disabilities, and it becomes a constant dance between surviving and thriving.
This blog post is deeply personal. I’m not just writing as the founder of Girls Chronically Rock or GCR Adaptive Solutions, I’m writing as Keisha. As a woman living with muscular dystrophy. As a Black disabled entrepreneur. As someone who has both laughed and cried within the same hour. Someone who’s had insurance claims denied, caregivers cancel last-minute, and systems that don’t always see or support the full picture of what living with a disability really looks like.
This is my truth, and I hope it sheds light on why mental health and disability need to be talked about in the same breath.
The Good Days (And Yes, There Are Good Days)
Let me start with this: I’m not here to paint a picture of constant pain or sadness. I have good days. Days when I feel powerful, energized, and deeply connected to my purpose. When Girls Chronically Rock gets a shoutout, when I hear from someone that my story inspired them, when I’m designing something adaptive and beautiful, those are my highs.
On those days, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. I laugh. I post silly TikToks. I plan events. I brainstorm new product ideas. I Zoom into meetings and feel like a total boss. That’s the power of passion, it fuels me when my body feels like it’s running on fumes.
But even on good days, the background stress of living with a disability is always present. There’s never really a moment when I’m “off.” And that mental load? It catches up.
The Bad Days: The Ones People Don’t See
Bad days are rough, not just physically, but emotionally.
Let’s talk about the sheer weight of it all. Dealing with insurance companies that deny claims for no good reason. Trying to get access to equipment that’s medically necessary. The number of phone calls, forms, appeals, and “we’ll get back to yous.” It’s exhausting. And it’s dehumanizing.
Then there’s caregiver coordination. When you’re dependent on someone to help with basic daily tasks, getting out of bed, dressing, preparing food, and they call out last-minute or just don’t show up, it’s not just an inconvenience. It can derail your entire day. Sometimes your entire week.
You can’t go to a meeting. You can’t film content. You can’t even go to the bathroom without assistance. You’re stuck, and feeling stuck triggers a spiral of frustration, helplessness, and shame.
There have been days when I’ve sat in my room and just cried. Not because I’m weak, but because I’m tired.
There’s a whole system we have to navigate just to survive, and that system is not built for us.
The Invisible Side: Mental Health in the Disability Community
Here’s the thing most people don’t talk about: having a disability often comes with a host of mental health challenges. Depression. Anxiety. PTSD. Burnout.
And it’s not just because of the physical limitations, it’s the isolation, the societal stigma, the pressure to be “inspiring” when you’re just trying to make it through the day. Sometimes I feel like I have to put on a brave face, even when I’m struggling inside. People see the accomplishments, the brand, the media features, the speaking gigs, and they assume I’ve got it all figured out. But behind the scenes, I’m managing chronic pain, making sure I have PCA coverage, worrying about the next round of insurance paperwork, trying to pay bills, and holding it all together with duct tape and prayer.
I’ve been through therapy. I’ve taken breaks from social media. I’ve disconnected when I needed to reset. And still, the mental health journey is ongoing. It doesn’t end.
Coping Methods That Actually Help
So how do I deal with all this? How do I cope?
I’m not going to pretend I have all the answers, but here’s what’s been helping me, in real, tangible ways.
Laughter Is Medicine and Yes, TikTok Helps
Sometimes, I just need to laugh. And TikTok has been surprisingly powerful for that. I love watching funny videos, dance trends, disability content creators, and just silly stuff that takes me out of my head for a few minutes. Those videos might seem small, but they’ve saved me from spiraling on many occasions.
It’s also a space where I can show my personality, my style, my sense of humor, my realness. Being seen and being myself in a world that tries to box us in? That’s liberating.
Creating Is My Therapy
Girls Chronically Rock was born out of a desire to express myself, to tell my story through fashion, and to empower others. Working on my brand gives me purpose. It grounds me. Whether I’m designing new apparel, planning an event, or sketching out ideas for adaptive products, creating gives me something to look forward to, even when my body is in pain.
Boundaries and Saying No
I’ve learned the power of “no.” Not every opportunity is worth my mental energy. Not every request deserves a yes. I’ve started protecting my time and peace like it’s gold, because it is.
Connecting with Others Who Get It
Support groups. Other disabled entrepreneurs. Friends who understand. That community is everything. When you’re dealing with stuff that most people can’t relate to, it’s important to find your tribe, people you don’t have to explain everything to. Sometimes just venting to someone who gets it is enough to shift my mood.
Rest Is Not Laziness
I used to feel guilty for taking naps or stepping away from work. But now I know, rest is part of the hustle. My body requires more downtime, and that’s not a weakness. It’s reality. So I rest. I sleep. I unplug. I recover, and I don’t apologize for it anymore.
What I Want People to Learn
If there’s one thing I want people to take away from this post, it’s this: disability is more than what you can see. The mental health challenges, the emotional labor, the constant advocacy, it’s a lot.
So if you’re someone living with a disability, I want you to know you’re not alone. Your struggles are valid. Your pain is real. And your joy is still possible.
And if you’re not disabled, but you care about inclusion, listen. Learn. Believe us. Don’t minimize our experiences. Advocate with us. Ask how you can help, and then follow through.
To My Fellow Fighters: You Are Enough
To every person out there dealing with disability and mental health challenges, I see you. I am you. There are going to be days that feel impossible. Days where you want to give up. Days where no one shows up, systems fail you, and you feel invisible.
But your life still matters. Your voice is powerful. Your story, your whole story, not just the shiny parts, is worthy of being told.
Keep showing up. Keep laughing. Keep resting. Keep creating. Keep being you.
And remember, we are chronically rockin’, even on the days we don’t feel like it.