The Resilience Report
Hard-Won Wisdom, Fresh Perspectives, and a Little Humor to Keep You Going
Thanks for checking out The (dis)Abled Writer! If my words make you think, laugh, or feel a little less alone, consider subscribing for free to get new posts. If this post resonates with you, hit that ❤️ below—it helps more people find my work on Substack. Want to keep up with future posts? Just drop your email below and hit subscribe. And if you’d like to support my work (and fuel my writing with some much-needed caffeine ☕), you can click here and BUY ME A COFFEE 🧡—because good stories deserve strong coffee!
Let’s roll…
I want to be useful.
That’s a phrase that echoes in my head more often than I’d like to admit. Maybe you’ve felt it too—that restless longing to contribute, to build, to be more than what the world sometimes sees.
For so long, I measured usefulness in movement, in doing. When I lost the ease of that—when cerebellar ataxia rearranged my life—I started questioning where my value lived. If I couldn’t be the same person I was before, then who was I now?
That’s the hard part about change, isn’t it? The way it asks you to redefine yourself, to let go of what you thought made you you, and find something new to hold onto.
In my new book, A Good Calamity: Useful Essays and Poems on Living with a Disability, I wrestle with this idea—what it means to keep reaching, even when your hands don’t work the way they used to. Here’s a piece from it that I think you’ll understand:
Still Reaching
Like a bridge across a raging river,
strong, desperate to reach the other side.
But my arms—they feel locked,
frozen in place,
as if forgotten
under the weight of too many years,
like the earth itself has decided
it’s done holding me.
I stand here,
feeling I could be so much more—
not just a body that needs help,
not just a list of things I can’t do,
but someone whose hands can build,
whose heart can hold a million dreams.
I want to shout, “Let me help!”
but the words get caught in a throat that remembers
when the body could give,
when it could be useful.
I want to plant trees,
sign my name,
make someone laugh.
But my hands—
they tremble,
they can’t grip what they can’t reach,
they feel so small next to the world,
and the world keeps spinning,
moving forward as if I’m not here.
I sit still,
waiting for the weight to lift,
waiting for my throat to speak,
waiting for my body to remember how to move,
how to stand on its own,
like the strong ones I see walking past me.
But they don’t see me.
They don’t know the map of my struggle,
the roads I’ve traveled inside my head,
how every small step feels like crossing a desert
while carrying an ocean.
I want to be part of the giving,
not just the one asking.
But what if the giving isn’t in the hands?
What if it’s in the words we say,
the way we listen,
the way we show up when we can’t
pick up the pieces ourselves?
Maybe there’s value in that.
Maybe the world needs hearts
that know how to hold without needing to touch.
I keep wanting to be the one who moves mountains,
but maybe the mountain is already moving me.
One inch at a time,
one breath at a time.
I’m still here,
still reaching,
still dreaming of a day
when I’ll wrap my arms around the world
and make it better.
Until then,
I’ll do what I can—
one poem,
one thought at a time.
Maybe you’ve felt this too—the weight of change, the grief of things you can’t do anymore. Maybe your challenge isn’t physical, but you still know what it’s like to feel like you’re reaching for something just out of grasp.
Try This: Redefining “Useful”
💡 What if your greatest contribution isn’t what you do, but how you show up?
So many of us tie our worth to action—to crossing things off a to-do list, to being productive, to proving ourselves through what we accomplish. But what if usefulness isn’t about movement? What if it’s in how we listen, in how we support, in how we share our stories?
For one day, pay attention to all the ways you already bring value—without lifting a finger. The way you encourage someone. The way you make someone laugh. The way your presence, your insight, your kindness, matters.
Laugh (So You Don’t Cry)
😆 My hands are often so unreliable that my coffee cup has a better chance of making it to the floor than my mouth. On the bright side, my floors have never been more caffeinated.
Words to Carry With You
📢 “However, despite my generally positive outlook, I cannot deny that recent times have challenged me, causing me to question my optimism. Opening up about personal hardships is daunting because my instinct is to remain silent and shield myself from vulnerability. Yet sharing these struggles serves a purpose: It reminds others facing similar battles that they’re not alone.”—Matt Lafleur, from his article “When faced with health challenges, I aim to be resilient”
Read all of Matt’s articles in his column “Little Victories” in Friedreich’s Ataxia News.
Your Turn
When’s a time you felt like you had nothing to give, but you actually made an impact? Hit reply—I’d love to hear your story. And if this spoke to you, share it with someone who might need the reminder.
You may not always feel useful. But you are. And if today, all you can do is keep reaching—then that’s enough.
I’m looking to add more resilient voices to this newsletter. Want to share your story? Contact me at writeonfighton@gmail.com or via Substack.
Be well,
Jay
Give a listen to my interview on the Two Disabled Dudes Podcast.
🚨 Don’t wait. This book matters. 🚨
Life doesn’t ask permission before it knocks you down. But resilience? That’s something we build. A Good Calamity: Useful Essays and Poems on Living with a Disability isn’t just my story—it’s about all of us who’ve had to find strength in the wreckage.
If you’ve ever faced a challenge that changed everything… if you’ve ever had to grieve the life you thought you’d have… if you need a reminder that laughter and struggle can coexist—this book is for you.
Out Now!!!
Episode 63: Why Bother?
Is writing worth it? Is chasing a dream built on rejection, self-doubt, and long nights of questioning your sanity really the best life choice? In this episode of The Frustrated Writers’ Club, Gail and Jay wrestle with the big question: Is writing worth the pain? They dig into the emotional toll of putting words into the world—the self-doubt, the frustration, the fear that no one will care (or worse, that they will). But they also explore the reasons we keep coming back to the page, despite it all. Tune in for a candid, witty, and slightly existential conversation about the cost of creativity—and why, in the end, we still choose to write.
Jay Armstrong is an award-winning author and speaker who refuses to be defined by his diagnosis of a rare neurological disease. Despite challenges with movement, balance, eyesight, and speech, Jay continues to press forward with determination, humor, and hope. As the leader of the Philadelphia Ataxia Support Group, he’s dedicated to helping others find joy, peace, and meaning in their lives, no matter the obstacles they face.
Love the glasses! They're just the right look for a professional writer. 😎