Every July I spend a bit of time reflecting on what it means to be disabled.

Not because someone tells me to, but because it’s a chance to look back at the journey and realise just how far I’ve come.

I can honestly say this:

I’m proud to be disabled.

Not because it’s easy—it isn’t.

Not because I don’t have bad days—I definitely do.

I’m proud because my disability has helped shape the person I am today.

It’s given me a purpose.

It’s introduced me to some incredible people.

And it’s shown me that there is more to life than listening to those who say, “You can’t.”

This month has reminded me why I do what I do.

From performing Blue Badge Bunch at Parallel Festival in Windsor, to celebrating disability with everyone at Kaleidoscope Festival in Chester, I’ve been surrounded by people proving that disability doesn’t define what we’re capable of.

One of the highlights of Parallel Festival was meeting the Fab Club team again.

That brought back so many memories.

Growing up, Fab Club gave me somewhere I belonged. It was where I met my first best friend, Vicky Walsh, who sadly is no longer with us but will always have a place in my heart.

We had so many adventures together—meeting Mr Blobby and Noel Edmonds, going on sponsored walks around Hyde Park, visiting the Dorchester and enjoying days out that, at the time, just felt like fun.

Looking back now, I realise they gave me something much bigger.

They gave me confidence.

Without experiences like that, I don’t think there would be a Blue Badge Bunch today.

I’m also incredibly proud of my family.

They never wrapped me in cotton wool.

They let me make mistakes.

They let me follow my own path.

Sometimes that path has been brilliant.

Sometimes it’s been hard.

But it has always been my path.

Because of that, I’ve built a life that I genuinely love.

I get to perform comedy around the country.

I get to create children’s shows that teach disability awareness.

I get to run Blue Badge Bunch.

I get to help disabled comedians through Disabled Cants.

I get to work on a farm, where nature gives me the break my mind sometimes needs.

And yes, I get to create artwork in my shed when my body needs a slower pace.

People often assume that disabled people don’t want to work.

The reality is very different.

Most disabled people I know work incredibly hard.

Some volunteer.

Some work part-time.

Some run businesses.

Some create art.

Some care for others.

Some do whatever they can around their health.

We all contribute in different ways.

For me, a full-time job has never really been possible.

My body doesn’t always allow it.

That’s frustrating, but I’ve stopped letting that define me.

Instead, I’ve carved out my own career.

It’s taken years, plenty of setbacks and a lot of hard work, but I’m getting there.

That doesn’t mean life is easy.

Some weeks the pain catches up with me.

Sometimes my body simply says, “Enough.”

I’ve had to learn that resting isn’t giving up.

It’s preparing myself so I can keep doing what I love.

That’s one of the biggest lessons disability has taught me.

Listen to your body. Not everyone else’s.

That doesn’t just apply to my physical health.

Sometimes my mental health comes back with a vengeance too. There have been times when I’ve pushed away people I love and respect. Looking back, I know that isn’t the person I want to be, but it’s something I’ve had to learn to understand and manage.

The strange thing about difficult times is that they also teach you who the people are that truly care about you. Some people stay, some people leave, and that’s just part of life.

I’ve said and done things that I regret, and I’ve apologised where I needed to. Not everyone will understand why mental health affects people the way it does, and that’s okay. I can’t expect everyone to understand my journey, just as I won’t always understand theirs.

I’ve learnt that it’s alright to let some relationships become memories rather than trying to force them to stay. I can still respect those people, wish them well and be grateful for the part they played in my life, while accepting that we’re now on different paths.

The important thing is to keep learning, keep growing and keep becoming a better version of yourself.

If you’re disabled and reading this, and you’re struggling right now, I want you to know something.

There is hope.

You don’t have to follow someone else’s version of success.

Find your own.

Tell your support workers what you want from life.

Go and meet people.

Try something new.

Volunteer.

Join a club.

Start a hobby.

It might feel uncomfortable at first.

Believe me, I know.

I’ve spent this past year making myself go out more, meeting new people and saying yes to opportunities.

Some days I’d rather stay at home.

But almost every time I push myself to get out, I come home happier.

You never know who you’ll meet or where that conversation might lead.

I’m also proud of the disabled community.

We’re not all the same.

We have different disabilities, different backgrounds and different opinions.

But when we support one another instead of competing with one another, amazing things happen.

That’s exactly what I saw at Parallel Festival and Kaleidoscope.

People lifting each other up.

Encouraging each other.

Celebrating each other’s successes.

That’s what Disability Pride means to me.

It’s not pretending disability is easy.

It’s being proud of who you are despite the challenges.

It’s recognising what you’ve overcome.

It’s having the confidence to say:

“This is me.”

So this Disability Pride Month, be proud of yourself.

Celebrate the little wins as much as the big ones.

Be kind to yourself.

Find your own path.

And don’t let anyone tell you what you’re capable of.

I’m proud to be disabled.

I’m proud of Blue Badge Bunch.

I’m proud of the people around me.

And I’m excited to see where this journey takes us next.

Happy Disability Pride Month.

– Benny Shakes