Eyes on Me: Living with Disability and Being Seen (and Judged)

Living with Visibility

Having been visibly disabled for around seven years now, I’ve become quite used to the stares I get, sometimes even comments, if people are feeling particularly bold or, let’s say, unfiltered.

You’d think that maybe, over the years, it would get easier to brush off. The truth? I might be more used to the attention, but it certainly doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.

These constant eyes on me have almost definitely amped up my anxiety when leaving the house. What should be a normal trip out is now laced with the quiet expectation of judgement.

The Daily Stares

In my experience, the worst culprits have always been the elderly. I know, it’s not what you’d expect. The same people so quick to wag a finger at younger generations for being “entitled” often don’t hesitate to act the same way, at least from what I’ve seen.

Those stares, subtle as a sledgehammer. Bless them, they genuinely think they’re being stealthy, but they really aren’t!

It’s always a trip when you catch their eye and suddenly there’s this big pantomime of "Oh, I was just looking over there." Even in my failing body, my reactions are apparently still quicker because I spot them every time.

Blue Badge Encounters

Take today at my doctor’s for example. In the UK, if you’re disabled, you might qualify for a Blue Badge. A scheme meant to make life a bit simpler. It lets us park closer to where we need to go, or at least in those mythical designated disabled bays.

So, I parked up in a disabled bay at my doctor’s surgery, put my Blue Badge in the window, and was just about ready to get on with the appointment. As I stepped out, I noticed an elderly couple circling the small car park, clearly on the hunt for their own spot. Unfortunately for them, every bay was taken. As they drove past, both of them locked their eyes on me. Instinctively, I stared straight back. And, like clockwork, they both whipped their heads away, feigning deep interest in a tree, a sign, or whatever non-disabled drama was happening nearby.

It happens ALL THE TIME.

Generational Double Standards

Look, I don't deny they were likely just as entitled to park in a disabled bay as I was. I'm not saying younger people are saints, either, far from it. But you can read people, you know? The look you get sometimes isn't just curiosity; it's that quiet, loaded judgement. Like, somehow, their need is greater purely because of their advancing age.

It's such a naive view to hold, really. Age doesn't grant exclusive rights to struggle. I know a few incredible ninety-year-olds who walk better and quicker than me, who probably have less chance of tripping too. But there's this idea that you must look a certain way to deserve help or access, and that's where the problem lies.

Mobility Scooter Memories

When I first became unwell, things went downhill fast. My balance left the building, vertigo hit hard, and driving became a non-starter. The only way to get around for a while was using a mobility scooter. I get it, seeing a man in his early thirties on a scooter isn't exactly the daily norm. Still, it happens.

And honestly, the reactions I got? Young people were, more often than not, understanding. They'd offer a smile or a kind word, just basic empathy. The older folks? More often a sideways glance and a stack of assumptions.

That's not to say everyone fits these patterns. Some younger people can be just as oblivious, and some older folk are absolute diamonds. But in general, this is how it's played out.

Why the Judgement?

The thing is, I just don't get the constant need for people to size up a stranger and suddenly act as if they now know their life story. It's wild. Staring at someone for a couple of seconds tells you nothing about their struggles, what they're living with, or what might have led them to this point.

I never judge the older folks who park in disabled spaces and then stride off at speed for their errands. Maybe they look spry, but maybe they're masking their own pain. It's none of my business; it's literally that simple.

Final Thoughts: Perspective and Privacy

Maybe, if we all took a breath and remembered that appearances tell such a tiny part of the story, things might feel a bit less heavy for everyone. I wish more people would look past the surface, better yet, not bother looking at all. Just let people get on with surviving in the ways they need to. That's all any of us are really trying to do.