It still blows my mind that The Golden Girls—a sitcom with cheesecake jokes and shoulder pads—handled chronic fatigue with more empathy than most institutions do in 2026.
In the two-part episode “Sick and Tired,” Dorothy is exhausted, foggy, in pain, and constantly dismissed. Doctors tell her it’s stress, menopause, depression, being “a woman of a certain age.” Sound familiar? She’s poked, prodded, patronised, and politely gaslit until one specialist actually listens and names what’s happening. The relief isn’t a miracle cure—it’s recognition. Validation. The radical act of being believed.
That episode aired in 1989.
Let that sit for a second.
A mainstream sitcom, written decades before “long COVID” entered our vocabulary, showed the diagnostic merry-go-round, the medical sexism, and the emotional toll of invisible illness with painful accuracy. And yet here we are, decades later, still fighting to prove that chronic fatigue is real, disabling, and worthy of care. Still explaining that rest isn’t laziness. Still collecting diagnoses like loyalty cards because one doctor’s disbelief wasn’t enough.
What The Golden Girls understood—and what too many systems still don’t—is that people with chronic fatigue aren’t asking for pity or praise. We’re asking for competent healthcare, research funding, and the basic dignity of being taken seriously.
If Dorothy Zbornak could get there in the ’80s, why can’t we in 2026?
Now excuse me while I lie down dramatically, Golden Girls-style.
Holocaust Memorial Day asks us to remember the six million Jewish people murdered by the Nazi regime. It also asks us to be honest about the full scope of who was targeted—and who is too often left out of the narrative.
Disabled people were among the first victims of Nazi ideology. Long before the concentration camps reached their deadliest scale, the regime carried out the so-called “T4” programme: the systematic murder of disabled children and adults deemed “unfit to live.” People with physical disabilities, learning disabilities, mental illness, chronic conditions, and neurodivergence were sterilised, institutionalised, experimented on, and killed. Their lives were treated as burdens. Their deaths were processed as paperwork. Their names were erased.
This history matters. The Nazi regime was a truly terrible thing, and I hope with everything in me that we never have to witness anything like it again. Remembering disabled victims of the Holocaust reminds us how quickly dehumanisation can become policy when society decides some lives are worth less than others. I do have to say, that I don’t find the current political climate reassuring at all feels like we’re going backwards rather than forwards. I fear it’s history repeating itself.
On Holocaust Memorial Day, remembrance must be inclusive. Disabled victims were not incidental—they were deliberate targets. Honouring them means acknowledging that their lives had value, and committing to challenge ableism wherever it appears today, in systems, policies, and everyday attitudes.
Remembrance is not passive. It is a refusal to forget, and a promise to do better.
Right now, it feels like we’re in a Cormack Mcarthy novel mixed with The HandMaids Tale. I feel like as a content creator and writer with a platform whose primary focus is helping people, that I must say my piece. I’ve been sitting on this for awhile now and it needs to be said, regardless of whether I’m no political expert.
It’s not right that people are disappearing, being harmed and having rights taken away. It’s starting to feel like the 1930’s are repeating themselves and, honestly, it’s sad because you’d think humanity would have learned its lesson by now. Watching what’s happening in the US is unsettling, because it’s not as far away as we like to think — if certain politicians had their way, the same erasing of rights and dignity could happen here too. These things don’t arrive loudly; they’re introduced as “common sense” or “protection,” targeting the most marginalised first while others stay comfortable.
Brutality isn’t always visible violence — sometimes it’s laws deciding whose bodies matter and whose suffering is acceptable. Just because it isn’t happening to you doesn’t mean it isn’t happening at all.
This isn’t about panic, it’s about paying attention, caring sooner, and refusing the lie that it could never happen here.
These unstable politicians need to be stopped before it becomes too late. We can’t let them creep in.
Yes, it’s yours truly back from her blogging hiatus, and so much has happened since we last spoke! I’m thrilled to announce that I am now officially a content writer for a wonderful company called Sekond Skin, which promotes overall body positivity and great mental health through their yoga and mindfulness classes via their app, catering to all body types and levels of mobility and impairments. The best part? They are even working towards creating a yoga certification specifically aimed at people with various disabilities to help them qualify as yoga instructors! Personally, I think it’s amazing that we now have a space where the able-bodied and disabled communities can come together, bridge the gap, and experience positive exercise—possibly for the first time in their lives. I also love that all body types are reflected in each class; what I mean by this is that the instructors are just like the pupils, with various levels of mobility and different impairments. I truly believe that seeing yourself reflected back in exercise classes fosters confidence and overall body positivity. It shows that it can be done, and it will be done.
If you’re interested in finding out more about Sekond Skin Society, please click here to try their classes today! You know me; this blog is all about honesty, and I wouldn’t promote a product or company if I didn’t think it worked! Since starting the yoga and mindfulness classes, I actually look forward to fitness now. Thanks to the range of bodies in the classes and the lovely open community they have, I finally found a space where I don’t feel judged for my level of mobility.
In this month’s first installment of the newsletter, we are going to tackle the toxic idea of the “New Year, New You” mentality and discuss how to set realistic resolutions and stick to them. If you found this blog post through the community at Sekond Skin, I’ll also share a little about myself and my overall fitness and mental health journey.
If you like what I have to say, please feel free to stick around and subscribe via email on the homepage to have my wonderful posts emailed directly to you. Why not check out some of my other content while you’re here? This blog is all about my life with a disability, my voice, and finally doing things my way (with a hint of sass and sarcasm!).
Why The “New Year, New Me” Mentality is Toxic and How to Properly Set Manageable New Year’s Resolutions
Dearest readers,
Happy New Year and welcome to 2026! Today marks my first monthly newsletter at Sekond Skin, written by yours truly! But before we get down to business and I explain my mission behind these letters, I thought it best to introduce myself and start us off on the right foot. My name is Raimie Jeffery, and I am a twenty-seven-year-old disabled writer and content creator from South Wales. I have Cerebral Palsy and am a full-time wheelchair user. I run the Instagram @Disableddahling and a blog (which is in desperate need of an update) under the same name.
I generally write about life as a disabled woman with a particular penchant for fashion, film, and books. My blog has evolved since 2022 and now serves as my platform for showcasing prevalent issues in the disabled community while promoting open and honest conversations about mental health and body positivity.
I think that’s enough about me for now—after all, a friendship isn’t built in one newsletter! I want you to open your email each month and look forward to reading my nuggets of wisdom. I want you to feel like you have a friend in me because, after all, Sekond Skin is about fostering connections with people while promoting a healthy body and a positive mind—it’s all connected! Wellness isn’t just about the physical aspects, you know!
I discovered Sekond Skin in late May this year while trying to find an integrated wellness program that catered to disabled individuals with various degrees of mobility, without separating able-bodied and disabled individuals into different camps. My view is that ultimately we’re all sharing the human experience in the same society. While I acknowledge that people have varying perspectives, we’re not that different.
At the end of the day, we’re all learning to treat our bodies with respect so that we can continue living long and fulfilling lives. I won’t say that after your first few classes, your life will drastically change; ultimately, this journey to body acceptance takes time. As your body begins to adjust, so will your mindset. Think of Sekond Skin classes as a form of self-care—a time to focus on you and your well-being, even if it’s just an hour a week.
I have been taking the yoga and meditation classes for six months now, and they’ve become a vital part of maintaining my health, just like my medication. Honestly, they’ve made me feel better about myself. Even though there isn’t a vast difference physically for me, I feel centered and calm, which puts me in a great mood and mindset for the rest of the day, making me more productive.
The teachers are incredibly supportive, and it’s lovely to see instructors who mirror my own body in terms of shape, size, and disability. Sekond Skin and its community have unlocked something in me; it’s a place where I feel like I belong in terms of wellness.
Growing up, physical education was sorely lacking for me as a disabled person, especially as a teenager, which left me feeling inadequate. The lack of adaptation and inclusivity resulted in a lot of internalized ableism and negative feelings about my own body. Physical education in school was torture for me; by treating me like everyone else, it made me feel like I stuck out like a sore thumb. What able-bodied people, particularly educators in the early 2010s, don’t realize is that some situations require accommodations rather than a one-size-fits-all approach. Growing up, that wasn’t encouraged or suggested.
With Sekond Skin, it’s the opposite; I finally feel like I can ask for help and have programs altered to fit my body and its limitations. Sekond Skin recognizes that there is no one-size-fits-all approach to exercise and wellness; the idea of equality instead of adaptation is abandoned here. I finally feel comfortable in a room full of people with bodies that match my own as well as mindsets.
Over the years, I have battled with body dysmorphia and severe mental health issues, but that hasn’t stopped me from trying to thrive in my position. Instead of wanting to change things or make my disability go away to make others comfortable, I’ve tried to make myself comfortable with it, which is why I started blogging again.
After a few months, my blog became a space where I could provide others with insights into my health battles, hoping it would help them. I focused on disabled women in particular because I realized there was no dedicated space to discuss women’s health issues—both disabled and able-bodied—where we could connect. Mainstream media often caters to the able-bodied gaze, so when one of my fans met Lee Anne, she suggested I branch out and write for everyone after my own success with the program. Given that our ethos matched in terms of our separate ventures, it was a win-win, and I jumped at the chance (although not literally!).
With the scene set and the backstory spun, let’s finally dive into today’s topic: why the whole “New Year, New Me” movement is harmful to both able-bodied and disabled fitness individuals alike.
I may or may not be a Grinch here, but I disagree that just because it’s January and a new year has passed, we need to change ourselves in the name of resolutions to fit into the small boxes society loves to put us in. To understand why, I need to be open and honest: when I was 15, I had just started antidepressants in January 2025 after my mental health breakdown in September. Honestly, I didn’t want to be disabled anymore. Why would I want to when I was constantly told that my body and mind were worthless? I remember being told to be more positive and to set resolutions, but how could I do that when the biggest aspect of all seemed like a trip up Kilimanjaro? Along with my struggles, there was also exam pressure, January blues, and a general blanket of bleakness shrouding me at every opportunity. That is until I started therapy, where I realized that this whole rhetoric was harmful considering I couldn’t change my body or circumstances. My therapist told me that I would never be able to change who I am; I can only improve myself with small changes, not big ones that feel insurmountable.
Did you know that January is the most challenging month for people with mental health issues? Did you know that over 70% of disabled people feel feelings of loneliness and isolation during the holidays? That’s a massive number when you consider that many places aren’t accessible, festive activities aren’t inclusive, and support networks are temporarily disbanded. So, let’s not add the harmful “New Year, New Me” rhetoric on top, shall we?
A huge part of my healing process was accepting that my disability and its challenges are a part of me; it’s something I have to learn to live with and be proud of. It doesn’t matter what society says, and I certainly shouldn’t change myself for the comfort of others.
As I’ve said before, January can seem bleak and anxiety-inducing at the best of times. Hopefully, we can all learn to accept each other and show a little kindness.
Instead, let’s think about giving ourselves a monthly goal. Together, we’re going to promise not to overwhelm ourselves and not to fill our plates to the brim, leaving space for the events of the year ahead. We need to break down our resolutions into small, achievable goals, and then it becomes a plan for how we can succeed. As a society, we must remember that New Year’s resolutions are about our own advancement and learning, and that growth mindset is essential. For example, my resolution is to recognize that I am not in control of people’s reactions; sometimes, their reactions aren’t a reflection of how they feel about me but rather how they respond to the situation. This year, I’m trying to be kinder to myself and ease the anxiety I feel. My plan is to continue with my weekly meditation and yoga classes and keep a daily journal to monitor my anxiety and triggers. It’s not about reaching a specific weight or achieving x, y, or z; I see that as more of a to-do list than a resolution. When sitting down to write your resolutions, get introspective, and instead of just listing common changes that society thinks you should make, ask yourself these questions:
How does this resolution serve me and me alone?
Where does the need to create this resolution come from? Is it a pattern of behavior you’ve noticed?
Does it stem from a knee-jerk response to a comment or an event?
How will achieving this resolution improve your life and aid in your personal development?
To be honest, I could use some more goal-setting inspiration, so what do you say, folks? Fancy giving your girly here some ideas? I’d love to hear about any plans you’re making for this year, even if it’s the smallest thing like going for a daily walk, to big things like conquering your fear of airplanes and going on holiday, and all the little bits in between. I believe that if we’re going to conquer our goals this year, we need to stick together and motivate each other. If you think there’s something I could improve on resolution-wise, please let me know in the comments; it’s a two-way street. I’m by no means a professional health expert, nor am I perfect; I’m far from it.
If you’d told me ten years ago that I would now be writing for a major lifestyle brand while running my own blog, I probably wouldn’t have believed you. The girl I was then could barely get herself out of bed and dressed. I don’t want any of you thinking that I know better than you; at the end of the day, we’re all on this journey together. Think of this as a monthly letter from a good friend setting you up for a great month. It doesn’t mean that I don’t need a boost from you all every so often!
If you’ve loved this newsletter, I want to hear from you! Send a message over to @Disableddahling on Instagram and let me know what you liked and didn’t like in this letter. I promise I won’t take offense if there are topics you want me to cover; please let me know. After all, this newsletter is about building bridges and creating a community, and I believe communities should have their say in the resources provided.
Go and put the kettle on and have a cup of tea. Hopefully, I’ll see you next month, Bestie.
Lots of love, DisabledDahling xoxo
Click the logo to learn more about Sekond Skin Society
Today’s creative vibes at Art Group were very Elphaba coded. I’m so very grateful to the members of my art group not only for the wonderful set of chalk pastels they gave me but, for their friendship. Tuesday mornings are a real highlight of my week.
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“We are not the ones that need to change… It is the society around us.” – @theheumannperspective
Disability History Month is essential for fostering genuine inclusion in our society. While the disabled community fights for equality, we must not be penalized for needing accommodations. The challenge is finding the balance between promoting independence and making necessary adjustments.
The real issue lies within societal attitudes, not our bodies. To change this, we need to learn from the past and build on the ideas introduced by disability advocates. Integrating Disability History into school curriculums is vital. Without this celebration, the momentum for change in inclusion stalls.
Inclusion doesn’t happen overnight; it requires relentless effort. We must understand our history to pave the way for authentic inclusion.
As Judy said, why should the disabled community conform to make others comfortable? The real problem is a world that refuses to meet them halfway.
While able-bodied society may claim to have made strides, a closer look shows that we still have a long way to go. Accessibility is more than ramps; it’s about acceptance and a willingness to learn and grow as a society.
Let’s ignite the fire for change. Celebrating Disability History Month is a crucial step toward a society where everyone truly belongs.
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Hey there, everyone! Today was quite the adventure for me. I’ve been out since 9 o’clock this morning and only just got home about an hour ago. The weather was lovely—sunny with a light breeze, perfect for a day out.
I kicked off my morning at the library, where I spent an hour and a half browsing through some books. There’s just something calming about being surrounded by all those stories. After my library visit, I headed over to Asda to pick up some flowers for my friend Suze. As luck would have it, she was already on her way there to meet me for lunch! We bumped into each other at the Asda café around 11 o’clock and enjoyed a nice cup of tea together. It was great catching up!
After our tea break, we strolled down to the garden centre for lunch. The flowers were in full bloom, and the place smelled amazing! By 1 o’clock, we had made a quick pit stop at Greggs for dessert—because who can resist a good pastry, right?
At half past one, I said goodbye to Suze and started my walk home. But I couldn’t resist going back into Asda to use the toilets and grab a couple of thank-you cards for my new carers. Once that was done, I returned to the library to write the cards, which took about half an hour. It felt nice to take a moment to express my gratitude.
After the cards were written, I ran into my friend Vivian at the jigsaw table. We chatted for an hour, sharing laughs and stories, which was just what I needed. Finally, I made my way back home.
When I got home, I squeezed in a Portuguese lesson before my carers arrived. Now, I’m lounging in my comfy armchair, all snuggled up in my pajamas. I just had a lovely FaceTime call with Gramps, and now I’m planning to spend the rest of the evening drawing while listening to some music. It’s been a full day, but I wouldn’t have it any other way!
Thanks for hanging out with me today. Until next time!
You know what I absolutely love? Writing! It’s my go-to escape, where I can dive into stories and completely lose track of time. When I sit down with a blank page, it feels like stepping into a whole new world that I get to create. There’s something so exciting about letting my thoughts flow and seeing where they take me.
What really gets me hooked is how my characters come to life and guide me through their adventures. They have their own quirks and challenges, and as I write, it’s like I’m on this rollercoaster ride with them. Sometimes they surprise me, leading me to twists and turns I didn’t see coming. It’s pretty cool to discover new sides of myself while I’m at it!
And let me tell you, when I have that pen in hand, I feel powerful. Writing gives me a sense of purpose—like I’m not just putting words on a page, but creating something that could really connect with people. In those moments, everything clicks, and I realize just how much I love this whole writing gig. It’s not just a hobby for me; it’s a part of who I am!
It’s me vs me. I’m not watching their race; I’m running mine.
After six years since my last publication, a 1950s Historical Romance novella ‘Carefree and Consequences’ (inspired by #Grease—#Linkinbio), I’m excited to share that I’ve been reworking an old idea and planning my new novel!
Today is day one of writing ‘The Salt and The Sand’—a dark fantasy about inner strength, secrets, lies, acceptance, and love.
✨ By January 2026, I hope to finish this 85,000-word tale, with dreams of a summer release shimmering on the horizon. Every two-hour writing session at the library brings me closer to a story where a fiesty, determined princess and hidden worlds collide.
Join me as secrets whisper between salt and sand, and a girl learns to believe beyond the shore.
Disableddahling 