I recently realised that learning to be disabled and confident in my body meant first accepting that this is the body I’ve got. I’m surrounded by doctors, family and friends trying to "fix" me, telling me they hope I get better soon instead of realising that this is a life-long condition. But they’re all still hoping one day I’ll wake up with a body like the women in the magazines, not because it’s skinnier or more toned, but because it works. Mine doesn’t work. And it's unpredictable; one day I’ll be able to go on a long walk, and then on another day not even be able to get out of bed. And I’m still not completely okay with that, not yet anyway, but accepting that this is the body I’ve got means I’m not as angry anymore.