Emotional support serves as a cornerstone of mental and emotional well-being, especially for individuals facing the unique challenges posed by disability and/or chronic illness likely confounded by marginalization of already stigmatized identities. It provides a vital foundation upon which one can build resilience and face the world that marginalizes those very identities. In my journey, I have discovered that obtaining the necessary emotional support involves a delicate interplay between family, chosen family, vulnerability and openness, and pure tenacious grit.

For many, family forms the bedrock of emotional sustenance. In my case, this sentiment is made complex by the fact that I am a child of immigrant parents, with no formal education, who speak little English, and rely on their children to be their advocates as they navigate the American dream. My parents came to the United States with nothing and knew no one. However, through their unconditional love shown to my brother and me through their back-breaking labor, for which they make minimum wage, my parents did everything they could to set us up for success. For me, this meant that my father did everything in his power to make sure that I have the tools for my visual impairment - something he, himself, never had. He was not about to let history repeat itself for me even if it meant hauling boxes, and unfortunately, most recently, getting attacked by an inebriated coworker. Because my parents have been in survival-mode for so long, they never truly had the chance for emotional development in the ways that my brother and I have had the opportunity to have. This meant that I couldn’t necessarily go to my parents when I needed advice, help with school, or trouble with friends. My parents were busy enough, trying to put food on the table and putting aside money for rent along with my unexpected and worsening prognosis. And, of course, they were never to be blamed for this. I exist today because of the sustenance, ambition, and values that my parents instilled in me.

At a very young age, I realized that there are ways in which my parents don’t seem to understand me, even if I didn’t have the words for it then. That is how I came to build the support of my chosen family. To some, these folks might just be considered “friends,” but to me, I hold them even more dearly than that. Although dynamic and ever-changing, I’m incredibly grateful for my chosen family and their unwavering love, understanding, and care for me. From something as simple as humoring my nuanced sense of humor, to listening about the complexities of being a female – identified, Asian-American, young, disabled, chronically ill, and queer but closeted living in a low income household, in a sexist/homophobic/medically underserved community, my chosen family - by their own right - chooses to stick around. How can one simply not find genuine love, rejuvenating comfort and judgement-free care in that? Although I haven’t quite yet found a singular person who identifies with this combination of identities, I’ve been fortunate to find that, in sharing my vulnerabilities and being open, there are individuals who I am fortunate to call my chosen family who do share one or some of these identities.

However, being completely open and disclosing my disability and chronic illness have not always been as well received. This is where the pure, tenacious, unrelenting grit is needed. Oftentimes, these barriers show up in the form of larger institutions, of which I navigate the accommodations for all the environments and spaces that I occupy. As a student in the school of medicine with a schedule, location, requirements, and professors that change month-to-month, or even day-to-day, I must constantly be calculating the amount and contents of my disability and chronic illness in which to disclose. This is where I must rely on my own grit - my inner sense of unrelenting determination used to respectfully but firmly fight tooth and nail to make sure my needs are met in the system that is not particularly made for folks like me - to maintain my emotional and mental stability. After that, I allow time and space to feel, reflect and dissociate. Because at the end of the day, I should owe myself just that.

In the tapestry of my life, emotional support is woven through the threads of family, chosen family, and my own grit with each element contributing to a symphony of resilience. Through the life-sustaining and nurturing embrace of loved ones, and the introspective power of life lessons learned, I have forged a path towards emotional well-being that is uniquely tailored to my needs and circumstances.