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On a Thursday morning a couple of weeks ago, I found my keys in the kitchen sink. I had been frenetically searching for them amid the “rubble” of the recurrent earthquakes of unkemptness that seem to erupt on a regular basis inside of my 690-square ft. apartment. I finally waved an invisible white flag of surrender when the all-too familiar catchy couplet resonated in my mind: “St. Anthony, St. Anthony, please come around. My _____ (keys) have been lost and must be found!” I had to find them quickly in order to drive over to a local ATM prior work, as a friend who cleans my apartment would be arriving in a few hours. (Yes, I will painfully admit that I have been paying for assistance in cleaning such a small space over the past couple of years.) After conducting a speech-language therapy session at a client’s home that evening, I finally decided to respond to the conspicuous illuminated low fuel icon on my dashboard.
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A few months ago, I was sitting at a local coffee shop with my friend when I made a self-deprecating joke about my disability- something along the lines of:  “Yeah, but people like me weren’t meant to do stuff like that… because of, you know, being disabled,” I paused for dramatic effect. For me, this was a typical joke, and all in good jest. I didn’t think anything of it.
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One of the largest barriers associated with having NVLD is employment. I’ve been fortunate enough to of had several employment experiences alongside neurotypicals. These various experiences have negatively reinforced ableism and the isolating experiences that individuals with invisible disabilities such as myself face on a daily basis. Asking for verification, taking longer to process information and doing tasks a little bit differently should never determine my worth.
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It is 1am on a Saturday night, I can’t sleep and I have re-runs of The Office playing in the background to help ease the crisp silence of my dark room and dull the chatter in my mind.

As I sit here writing this post, I am hours into sobering up from what I finally started calling my “meltdowns.”
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Hi!! Everyone, my name is Benjamin. I live in Washington State. I just recently heard about NLVD, and when my wife brought it to my attention and I read about it. I almost wanted to break down. I am 38 and have spent most of my adult life, in service to our country. I joined the military at the age of 17. I started out as a Marine Reservist, so I could go to college because it was super important to my parents, and I didn’t wanna let them down. The problem was that I always had struggled in school.
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Its 1 AM and I just found out that my ex unfriended me. For nearly six years I was romantically involved with someone who saw me in a way I had trouble seeing myself. I was able to be myself around this person and I hardly ever had a melt down around them. *But when he wasn’t around boy did, he hear about it* Patience was not necessarily his strong suit, and neither is mine. But when it came to us as a “we.” We waited too long. We dated for 3 years the last 3 we were cuddle buddies/friends who sometimes go on dates. He was my best friend. He knew things about me I would never in a million years tell anyone else, not even my dog.
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