The Double Standard I Didn’t Know I Was Living By

I’ve always held myself to higher standards than anyone else. Part of it comes from necessity—when you’re a physically disabled woman navigating a world that wasn’t built for you, you don’t get the luxury of being average. You don’t get to have an “off day.” You can’t show weakness, because the moment you do, some people will decide that’s all you are.

So, I expect myself to be mentally sharp, emotionally grounded, and spiritually tough. Because I have to be. I don’t have another option. I’ve spent a lifetime proving that I belong, that I can do it on my own, and that my disability doesn’t define me.

But here’s where it gets tricky. Those expectations I have for myself? They’ve bled into how I view other people. And not always in the best way.

I Don’t Have a Lot of Patience—And I’m Owning That

I’m not the most patient person. If you’ve ever been around me when someone is whining about their broken pinky finger like they just lost a limb, you know I’m not the one. I can empathize—at first. Pain is pain, after all. But if you sit in that complaint for too long, I’m mentally checking out. Maybe physically, too.

Because in my head, I’m thinking, You have a choice. You can wallow, or you can get up and figure it out. I didn’t get the option to wallow, so why do you?

And here’s the kicker: If you dig up a copy of my high school senior yearbook (Sunset Knights, I’m talking to you!), you’ll find a survey where we were all asked, “If you could wake up tomorrow with one new trait, what would it be?”
My answer?
Patience.
So, you see—this lack of patience didn’t just appear in adulthood. It’s been tagging along since before I even knew how much it would shape the way I move through the world.

And the truth? That’s not always fair.

Not everyone has had to build the kind of mental and emotional strength I’ve been forced to develop. Some people haven’t had to, and others don’t know how. I remind myself of that all the time. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

Why It’s Hard to Accept Help

Part of this comes from another truth I rarely talk about: accepting help is hard for me.
And not because I’m too proud (though, yeah, I’m a little proud). It’s because I’ve seen what happens when you say yes to the wrong people.

Some people offer to help, but it’s not genuine—it’s transactional. They do one small favor and then expect a favor in return that’s ten times bigger. They keep score. And worse? They use that one time they helped me as leverage to keep asking for things over and over again. It’s like they believe I’ve signed a lifetime contract because they showed up for me once.

That’s not help. That’s a setup.

I’ve learned that when someone offers help with strings attached, it’s not a gift—it’s a leash. And I’ve worked too hard to live life on my terms to get caught up in someone else’s conditions.

I’m not cynical. I’m careful.

There’s a difference.

So, when I do accept help, it’s because I trust you. Completely. And even then, a part of me is watching, hoping you’re the exception.

The Truth About My Double Standard

I hold myself to impossible standards because I’ve had to. But it’s not just because I’m physically disabled. That’s only part of the story.

The other part?
I’m Gifted.

And I don’t mean that in a “look at me, I’m better” way. It’s just how my brain and spirit are wired. My teachers noticed it early on, even if I wasn’t officially placed in a Gifted program until 6th grade. Back in New York, from pre-K through 5th grade, they found other ways to challenge me. I was given more responsibilities—helping in the school office like an unofficial aide, assisting kindergarten teachers during my 5th-grade year, and even taking French classes with the 6th graders. They saw something in me before I fully saw it in myself. And that early recognition shaped a lot of who I am.

Some people now call it being an Indigo Child. Others just stick with Gifted. Whatever name you use, the experience is the same: I’ve always processed life differently. Even as a kid, I saw the world in ways most people didn’t. I noticed things others missed. I asked the questions no one really wanted to answer. And I felt things—deeply. I still do. I’ve learned to embrace these qualities. These are my personal standards.

That doesn’t go away just because you’re no longer a child. Being Gifted isn’t something you outgrow. It’s how you experience the world. And with it comes a deep desire for justice, for truth, for authenticity. I can’t stand hypocrisy. I have little patience for people who don’t want to grow—because I’m always growing. It’s not something I do. It’s who I am.

And sometimes that intensity can be a lot—for me, and for the people around me.

I know I’m not the only one. There are plenty of people with physical disabilities who live this layered existence. It’s not one or the other. It’s all of it, stacked on top of each other, shaping how we show up in the world.

And I’m learning to give myself grace for that complexity.

This Staycation Is For Me

This spring break, I’m giving myself a staycation. No travel, no chaos—just me, doing what I love.
I’m writing, reading, painting, watching mysteries, and—probably the biggest one—focusing on me. Quietly. Intentionally.

And when I say I’m working on myself, I mean all of me. I’ve got my mani/pedi supplies ready to go. I’m giving myself facials and taking care of my skin. I’m making time to care for my body because I deserve to feel good in my own skin. Physically disabled people aren’t told often enough how important that kind of self-care is. We’re told to be practical, to focus on the essentials, but this is essential. Self-care isn’t a luxury—it’s a reminder to ourselves that we matter.

And while I’m at it, I’m digging into books that feed my mind and soul. I’m thinking about how I want to live with more purpose, how I can keep evolving. It’s inside-out work.

But let me be clear: this isn’t about softening for everyone. That’s not realistic, and frankly, it’s not smart. I’ve seen what happens when I let my guard down around people who are takers, manipulators, or what I call “get-overs.” It always leads to more friction—professionally and personally. There are people who see softness as a green light to take advantage, to push boundaries they have no business crossing.

So I’m not being cynical. I’m being careful. I’ve earned the right to protect my peace.

This season of my life is about learning when to soften and when to stay hard. When to open the door and when to deadbolt it shut.
And I’m realizing… that choice, that discernment, is where real strength lives. That’s a standard I won’t change anytime soon.

Your Turn

What about you? Have you found yourself holding impossible standards for yourself that you’d never expect from anyone else?

And if you could wake up tomorrow with one new trait… what would it be?

Thank you for reading my column, Just My Bellybutton.

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