Inclusivity at Work: 5 Additions For Non-Visible Disabilities

Many workplaces consider themselves inclusive, but how accurate is that statement? Was it verified by someone with an outside perspective or an unbiased opinion? Or was it a title self-given after making a few changes? Not every inclusive addition has to be grand; many are in the places you least expect them, and you might not realize their impact.

Through my own lived experience managing a non-visible chronic illness for the past seven years, I have seen many spaces consider themselves adaptive and inclusive, and while some were, many weren’t. Learning ways to improve your workplace is the first step toward designing a space that moves beyond surface-level acceptance.

From my personal perspective, here are five honest thoughts on how Narratives approaches diversity and inclusivity for someone with a non-visible disability, and how it differs from other environments I have experienced.

For me, there have been many times when an unexpected flare appears. You feel the discomfort, stress, and anxiety of knowing that the longer you remain in that position or space, the worse it can become. Occasionally, medication can help, but it rarely makes the symptoms vanish instantly.

Knowing that there is a designated space where I can rest, recover, and take my laptop to work in offers more than just peace of mind; it removes the feeling of having to hide in a hallway or cramped room, counting down the minutes while worrying that others are wondering where I went. It makes me feel that my needs were genuinely considered in the office’s design, rather than an afterthought, allowing me to take needed private time without having to rush home if I don’t want to or silently fight through my discomfort in a public space.

This detail is often overlooked, and I can understand why. Not all offices have a snack drawer, and when I first saw the one at Narratives, I thought it was a really interesting concept but believed there would be nothing I could eat without triggering an issue. However, when I opened the drawer and saw a diverse range of options that went beyond the standard granola bars and chips, I was deeply relieved.

It’s a simple thing, sure, but being able to grab a snack without relying on the one “safe food” you’re tired of eating, or needing to ask other staff members to leave that one specific food for you to enjoy, which makes you feel annoying and as though you’re being “dramatic” or bothering them, or even not having to constantly scan nutrition labels and end up disappointed because you can’t have anything, is a major breath of fresh air. It’s more than “just a snack”; it’s about being able to participate alongside your team members and feel included, rather than being on the outskirts of something meant for everyone.

 Every workplace has a washroom, but when I saw the ones at Narratives, I was shocked. Instead of the standard rows of sinks and bland grey walls that feel cold and detached, rushing you without saying anything, they feel like residential washrooms. One even had a shower! Having a washroom that feels welcoming and comfortable makes a major difference.

My condition, interstitial cystitis, often has me seeking out quiet places to compose myself and find grounding. Warm tones, embroidered fabrics, wall art, and soft scents all feel comforting and actually help calm my symptoms and mind when a flare spikes. I don’t feel hurried, I don’t worry about a lineup at the door, and I can avoid the sensory overload of a traditional public washroom, like the loud hand dryers, cramped spaces, and sterile environment.

This is what I am most grateful for. With flexible hours, I don’t feel the weight of anxiety or the lingering question: “What if I flare today?” In many environments, experiencing a flare-up before or during work throws your entire day and mind off schedule. Concentration becomes nearly impossible when everything is painful and overwhelming.

When I discovered that I could shift my hours to accommodate my health, I felt immense relief because I cannot always predict a flare. Instead of forcing myself through the day, staring at words that aren’t registering or watching the minutes pass slowly, I can step back and take care of myself, scheduling my work around my flare instead of forcing my health around my work. I also find this strengthens my output and creativity. It allows me time to regenerate, perform better, and reduce my flares because my stress is lower.

This does not mean that workplaces should remove dress codes entirely. I’m not suggesting we wear pyjamas to work, but knowing I can wear clothing that doesn’t have to fit rigid, uncomfortable corporate expectations like the traditional pencil skirts, heels, slacks, belts that press on me, or stiff button-ups unless I choose to wear them, was deeply reassuring.

For many people with chronic illnesses, attire directly impacts our overall state. For me, anything tight, restrictive, or made from fabrics that don’t breathe well can trigger instant symptoms. Being given the freedom to meet my health needs while still dressing professionally and comfortably makes the office feel genuinely inclusive.

But inclusivity is often built not through enormous additions, but through small, thoughtful changes that make life just one step easier for people like me, who live every day with a flare ready to appear, and that can have the biggest impact.