Chronic illness made me reimagine my career. Now I focus on myself more — and I'm both successful and happy.

• Jayne Mattingly is a therapist, recovery coach for eating disorders, and disability advocate.
• Being diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome led Mattingly to take a more flexible approach to her work life.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Jayne Mattingly, a therapist and recovery coach for eating disorders. She also created the "And" initiative for disability advocacy. The conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

When I was in graduate school to be a therapist, I was able-bodied and healthy. I thought my journey as a therapist would reflect what I saw in the industry: spending nine hours in an office every day seeing clients.

But then I started getting sick — and it made me realize I could reimagine everything I thought I knew about how I work.

At first, I wasn't sure how I could continue working with my conditions

I train professionals to work with eating disorders, and I have neurological and autoimmune conditions that have led me to partial sight loss and using mobility aids like wheelchairs. When I was diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, which is a connective tissue disorder, my life stopped pretty quickly.

The therapists I'd looked up to in graduate school all had offices and saw clients in-person. I wasn't sure I could do it any other way — except that I knew a lot about the ins and outs of telehealth, like how HIPAA and consent play out in telemedicine.

That's when it came to me: There was a way to keep doing the work that fills me with purpose, but I would have to reimagine my career.

Now, the flexibility of my career works around my disability

When the pandemic hit and so many people had to transition to virtual work, I was already set up for success because I'd transitioned my business online. That first year of the pandemic was a huge time for clientele growth, especially because people were struggling with body-image issues and eating disorders at a much higher rate than usual.

I felt so lucky that I was able to help so many people while also taking care of my own health. I can be in bed recovering from a flare or surgery and still be helping clients.

In a way, my life has gotten smaller since becoming disabled. But it's also become much bigger. I have a wider reach, and I'm helping more people now that I focus on accessibility both for myself and my clients.

It's not easy to think outside of the box when it comes to your career

We all have an idea of what our working lives will look like, and for much of my life, I didn't imagine myself working from a hospital bed while recovering from surgery. But that's what I do sometimes, and I'm grateful to have that flexibility.

Sometimes, internalized ableism leaves me thinking I should feel guilty for working a certain way. But I try to fight through that and work in the way that makes sense for my body and my disability.

Work doesn't have to be such a singular experience of getting up, getting dressed, and going to the office for nine hours a day. That doesn't work for me, and it doesn't work for millions of other chronically ill and disabled people. It makes me sad that it took a pandemic for people to realize that we need more flexibility in our working lives, but I'm glad we're making these strides regardless.

When I first started working virtually, I got a lot of pushback from other therapists — and even family members — who couldn't see that I could do real, important, good work from home. It's just a different way of working, but it's still working.

I just want people to know that disabled people are not just disabled. I can be disabled and thriving in my career. I can be disabled and cute. I can be disabled and creative.

Able-bodied people often see disabled people as tragic figures, and even though tragic things have happened to me, my life is not tragic. I'm happy and successful and full of joy. Both things can be true at once.