My Story
Hi everyone!
I’m Clara, and I use she/her pronouns.
A little bit about me I am extremely passionate about disability advocacy, especially when it comes to Service Dog education. I visit schools, co-present for NAMI, and speak to the public about service dogs, accessibility, and accommodations. I’m currently a junior at Carleton College in Minnesota.
Back in high school, I started the first Disability+ affinity group at Interlochen, which served as a safe space for disabled, chronically ill, and neurodivergent individuals to share experiences and build community. I was also part of the Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion Student Voice Team, where we launched the Accessibility Series—creating performances accessible to people of all abilities. I continue this advocacy work in college, collaborating with a variety of organizations that support the disabled community.
I’m incredibly passionate about this work and hope I can be a helpful resource to all of you.
I want to preface this by saying I’m not a medical professional, but I’d like to share my personal story with mental illness.
I have what's considered an invisible or hidden disability. I was diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder at age 4 and later with Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD), Social Anxiety, Panic Disorder, ARFID, and OCD at 14. Eventually, I was diagnosed as Autistic—which helped make sense of all the previous diagnoses.
Things became especially difficult during my sophomore year of high school. At that time, I wasn’t eating, leaving the house, attending school, taking care of basic hygiene, or socializing. I could only tolerate being in my room as it was the one space that didn’t overwhelm me. If I had to go out, I’d come home and immediately hide in my closet under my clothes, with a weighted blanket and noise-canceling headphones to calm myself down.
Thankfully, my family noticed something was wrong and stepped in to support me. I wasn’t thrilled about this at the time, but I’m deeply grateful they did. In January of my sophomore year, I began treatment.
This included eight months in an Intensive Outpatient Program, regular sessions with an OCD specialist and occupational therapist, and ongoing therapy and nutritional support with a dietitian, whom I still see today. I also began medication, which helped me through Exposure Therapy and other treatments. Through it all, I learned so much about how my brain and body work—and don’t work.
After that very long year, things began to improve. I built up my executive functioning skills, though I still faced the daily challenges that come with being autistic. Being diagnosed with an autonomic nervous system disorder, POTS, made all of this 10x harder.
To support me further, I applied for a service dog through a program called Ultimate Canine.
Nine months later, on December 4th, 2021, I met my best friend, Cassie.
Cassie helps me function daily by performing tasks such as alerting me to medical episodes like syncope and presyncope, which can help prevent fainting or reduce the risk of injury. She also monitors my heart rate and provides deep pressure therapy. For psychiatric support, she interrupts harmful behaviors, turns off lights, provides tactile stimulation, performs crowd control, and more.
Every one of her tasks plays a role in helping me navigate the world more safely and comfortably.
In addition to Cassie, I rely on a variety of resources. For example, I have more frequent dental appointments and use a special toothbrush because brushing can be difficult for me. I only wear a specific brand of socks that I can tolerate. I carry fidgets, headphones, and earplugs for overstimulation. I even have a sensory swing. These tools make a real difference in my day-to-day life.
But above all, the most valuable skill I’ve learned is self-advocacy.
This didn’t come easily. It took time and practice, and it still takes energy. Advocating for your needs can be frustrating and exhausting, especially when people don’t understand or doubt you. But for me, it has been worth it.
At the start of my junior year, I worked with our school psychologist, Dr. Kern, to create a presentation for my teachers. I explained in detail how my disabilities affect me in the classroom, at home, and during group work. It was scary to be that vulnerable, but in doing so, I gained the support and understanding I needed. I’m incredibly lucky to have teachers who care about my success and well-being.
When I first began advocating for myself, I started small: asking my mom to bring me a snack when I didn’t have the energy to get up. Eventually, I worked up to requesting accommodations from teachers.
Despite being in a supportive environment, I still deal with people doubting me and my needs. When I say I’m autistic, I’m often met with responses like, “Are you sure?” or “But you seem so normal.” I’ve even been told, “My sister’s son has autism and he’s non-verbal—he’s nothing like you, so you can’t be autistic.”
But I am. And along with the very real struggles of being autistic, I also have to deal with constantly explaining those struggles just to receive the support I need.
There are times when I feel shame for having needs. Times when I feel isolated because of my disabilities. I often feel like I have to prove I’m struggling, because my disability isn’t visible. I mask, a common coping strategy for people with mental illness and neurodivergence. Because I’ve masked for most of my life, people perceive me as "functioning." But perception isn’t always reality.
That’s why sharing my story matters. It’s why we must work to end the stigma around mental illness and disability.
One of the most important things I’ve learned through this journey is that everyone has needs, and everyone deserves to have those needs met. We all struggle, and it’s okay to talk about it. It’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to use tools and resources that support your well-being.
My treatment team often reminds me that recovery is not linear. That phrase has stuck with me. It’s helped me offer myself grace on hard days and gratitude on the better ones. I didn’t go from being completely isolated to traveling and advocating overnight. It’s been a two-year process, and it will likely be ongoing. But I’m no longer just surviving. I’m thriving.
If you take anything away from my story, let it be this:
You are not alone.
You are allowed to advocate for yourself.
And you don’t have to be afraid to ask for help.
Thank you so much for reading my story. If you have questions about my journey, treatment, service dogs, or anything else, feel free to reach out. I’m here as a resource and an ally.
