There are four words I never thought I’d hear.
“You’re permanently disabled.”
I went to my doctor’s appointment expecting to renew my temporary handicap placard for another six months.
Instead, my doctor looked at me and said,
“You have EDS. You’re permanently disabled.”
Logically?
It made perfect sense.
There was no point in renewing a temporary placard every six months when my condition wasn’t temporary.
Part of me was even relieved.
No more paperwork.
No more appointments.
No more proving I was still disabled.
But relief wasn’t what stayed with me.
Grief was.
A few weeks later, my new placard showed up in the mail.
I opened the envelope and just…stared at it.
Across the top, in giant letters, was one word.
PERMANENT.
Four extra letters.
One completely different future.
I wasn’t grieving a parking placard.
I was grieving the life I thought I was still working toward.
Grief Doesn’t Always Look Like Loss
When most people think about grief, they think about losing someone.
But sometimes grief looks like losing the future you thought you’d have.
I’ve lived with POTS for a couple of years now, but this year I was finally diagnosed with what many people call “the trifecta”: POTS, hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos syndrome (hEDS), and Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS).
The diagnosis didn’t suddenly make me sicker.
It made things…real.
I realized I’ll probably never know another day without pain.
That’s a weird sentence to type.
It’s also true.
I don’t take simple things for granted anymore.
Taking a shower.
Walking through a parking lot.
Going to an event without checking how far I’ll have to walk first.
Getting out of bed and not feeling like I got hit by a Mack truck.
Those little things?
They’re luxuries now.
And honestly…
That still sucks.
I Had to Stop Fighting My Body
For a long time, I treated my body like it was the problem.
If I needed a nap, I felt guilty.
If I had a migraine, I pushed through.
If a flare knocked me out for half the day, I spent the other half beating myself up for it.
I wasn’t listening to my body.
I was fighting it.
Eventually I realized something.
My body wasn’t asking me to prove how tough I was.
It was asking me to listen.
So I did.
I stopped apologizing for slowing down.
I stopped feeling guilty for resting.
I stopped measuring my worth by how much I could get done in a day.
Instead, I started asking a different question.
Can I build a business that still works on my worst days?
That question changed everything.
Working for Myself Isn’t Luck
People love telling me,
“You’re so lucky you work for yourself.”
The truth?
It isn’t luck.
It’s accessibility.
My body doesn’t operate on a 9-to-5 schedule.
Some mornings I feel great.
Some mornings I can’t get out of bed without pain.
Sometimes my best work happens at 2 a.m.
Sometimes I need a nap in the middle of the afternoon.
Owning my business lets me work with my body instead of constantly fighting against it.
That’s not a luxury.
It’s the only reason I can do what I do.
Asking for Help Didn’t Mean I Failed
This one took me a while.
I used to think asking for help meant I wasn’t trying hard enough.
So I carried everything.
Every client.
Every email.
Every deadline.
Every decision.
Sound familiar?
Eventually I realized something.
If I wanted to build a sustainable business, I couldn’t keep acting like I was the only person allowed to support it.
Hiring my OBM, Sarah, has been one of the best decisions I’ve made this year.
Not because I can’t run my business.
Because I shouldn’t have to carry every piece of it by myself.
Now, even when I’m having a flare day, my clients are taken care of.
Projects keep moving.
Nothing falls apart.
That isn’t weakness.
That’s leadership.
Success Looks Different at 40 Than It Did at 30
There was a time when I thought success looked like…
More clients.
More money.
More hustle.
More hours.
Now?
Success looks like sustainability.
Financially.
Physically.
Mentally.
Success is building a business that supports my life instead of consuming it.
Success is resting without guilt.
Success is working with clients who respect boundaries.
Success is knowing my business can keep moving even when my body needs me to slow down.
Honestly?
I like this version better.
Why I Care So Much About Disabled Entrepreneurs
This journey has introduced me to some of the most compassionate, creative, resilient people I’ve ever met.
People doing incredible work while navigating barriers most people never even think about.
That’s why I’m so passionate about supporting disabled founders.
Not because they need someone to save them.
Because I know what it’s like to have big dreams and limited energy.
I know what it’s like to wonder if your business can keep up with your body.
I also know what the right strategy, systems, and support can do.
Sometimes the biggest barrier isn’t talent.
It’s capacity.
And capacity deserves strategy.
Marketing Shouldn’t Feel Like Another Full-Time Job
One thing becoming disabled has reinforced for me is this:
Marketing shouldn’t leave you exhausted.
It shouldn’t feel like another job you have to squeeze into an already full life.
You don’t need to be everywhere.
You don’t need to post every day.
You don’t need to chase every trend.
You need a strategy that works for your life.
Not someone else’s.
That’s true whether you’re disabled, chronically ill, raising kids, caring for aging parents, or simply tired of hustle culture. That’s the same philosophy I bring to every client I work with, whether they need a one-time strategy session or ongoing marketing support.
Your business should fit your life.
Not the other way around.
A Different Life Doesn’t Have to Be a Lesser Life
I used to think I was grieving the life I’d lost.
Maybe I was.
But somewhere along the way, I realized I wasn’t just grieving.
I was rebuilding.
A business that works with my body instead of against it.
A life with more compassion.
Better boundaries.
More support.
Less guilt.
Is it the life I pictured ten years ago?
No.
There are still days I wish I could say yes without thinking about how much energy it will cost me.
There are still days I wish I could wake up without pain.
There are still days I grieve.
But grief and gratitude can exist at the same time.
I can miss the life I imagined.
And still love the life I’m building.
Because here’s what becoming permanently disabled has taught me.
A different life doesn’t have to be a lesser life.
The same goes for your business.
You don’t have to build it the way everyone else says you should.
You get to build one that supports your life, your values, and the version of success that actually matters to you.
And I think that’s a pretty beautiful thing.
If this resonated with you…
If your marketing feels harder than it should, or you’re tired of wondering why your content isn’t connecting, I’d love to help.
My Social Media Audit is designed to uncover what’s working, what’s getting in your way, and where to focus next so you can stop guessing and start marketing with intention.
Because the best businesses aren’t built by pushing yourself to the brink.
They’re built to last.
About the Author
I’m Devin, founder of Creative Gravity. I help service providers build sustainable marketing strategies that attract the right clients without burning them out. As a disabled entrepreneur living with POTS, hEDS, and MCAS, I’m passionate about creating businesses that work with your life, not against it.