Travelling solo with invisible disabilities

by Memoonah Hussain (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

A leap into the unknown Australia

Cairns Airport, 4.20am: ‘Don’t you know there’s a queue?’, jokingly I replied: ‘I don’t follow the rules’. My hostel roommate scoffed looking disgusted while the airline staff member returned to take me to the check-in desk. If you look at me, you’ll just see a short brown girl wrapped in many layers of clothing who looks 16 (although I’m actually 22). I don’t look much different to another normal person. And that’s the problem. I look normal. Travelling with invisible disabilities is difficult; they’re invisible. So, I didn’t really know what I was getting into when I decided to take the leap into the unknown and travel solo for the first time up the Australian east coast. Being a student means budget friendly hostels. But hostels have bunk beds and due to my disabilities, I can’t sleep on a top bunk. As a result, I’ve had hostels attempt to charge me to move to smaller dorm sizes for a guaranteed bottom bunk and I’ve been told to pay for a private room. The manager who said that also said she’d tell someone in a wheelchair to pay for a private room so they don’t end up being in a top bunk. After one hostel manager (in a different hostel) called me “unreasonable” for refusing to pay AU$5 extra for the room change, I called Australian Human Rights. They advised me on the 2010 Equal Opportunities Act and told me being charged extra was discriminatory. Hostels mean roommates. Sometimes you get inconsiderate ones. The girl who scoffed at my ‘I don’t follow the rules’ joke kept the aircon on despite the nights being horrifically cold. My bunk was right under the aircon meaning a lot of the cold air was hitting me and this was causing severe chest pain. I informed her of this so she switched it off. Shortly, she switched it back as she was in the bunk above me and could easily reach the switch. It was by pure luck we had the same flight to Melbourne booked meaning we could split the fare to the airport meaning we saved a lot of money. And then you have difficulties with actually exploring the beautiful city you’ve arrived in. As I can’t stand in one place for too long, there are time where I have sat on road because there are no seats at the bus or tram stops. When it comes to seeing the breath-taking viewpoints in national parks, I have to take frequent rest breaks especially if the terrain is steep uphill because I feel like I’m having a heart attack. When I’ve been with friends travelling I feel like a burden and nuisance asking them to stop because I need to rest despite their reassurances they’re more than happy to take their time and are understanding of my health issues. There are times when I’ve had to convince a friend to continue on without me because she didn’t want me to be alone while the rest carried on. Throughout the entire journey I’m having to struggle with the pain; I feel I’m being stabbed with a thousand knives all over my body. I can’t move, let alone walk. But it also impacts my mental health. My mother said if it wasn’t for my invisible disabilities, I wouldn’t have gone up the east coast and pushed myself. But I feel like if I didn’t have my health issues, I could do more and push myself even further. It just feels like I’m constantly facing battles and the pain really doesn’t help. However, having had said that, I am proud of the things I accomplished while travelling with my invisible disabilities. I’m proud I took that leap. I’m proud that I’ve been able to stand up for my rights and push the limits of my body. I’m proud that I managed to travel solo for the first time ever and had the opportunity to witness such magnificent sights. I’m proud that I’ve managed to deal with the barriers that people such as myself face when travelling. But that’s not something I should be proud of. Travelling with invisible disabilities, or even disabilities in general, shouldn’t be this difficult.