It can be someone speaking more slowly when communicating with a disabled person.

It can be taking a task away from a disabled person, even though they were already doing it.

It can be a decision being made on behalf of somebody because they assume that their disability makes it too difficult.

Each of these examples looks minor in isolation, but they accumulate. Over time, the pattern becomes obvious. Disabled people are not being measured by their actions or experience, but by someone else’s assumptions.
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Most of the time, people are genuinely trying to help so the difficulty lies not in the intent, but in the belief underneath it.

Disability has long been linked with inability in people’s minds. The word disabled means 'not functioning properly', which is fine if we're talking about a lift or a toilet. The problem arises when this association gets absorbed into our understanding of people because it shapes how they respond.

I'm not calling for an overhaul of language here - we're stuck with 'disabled' and 'disability' and we're going to have to learn how to own it - we just all need to be aware of how our subconscious understanding of these words can shift our behaviours.
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Reducing competence drift does not require dramatic change. It comes down to three consistent behaviours.

1. Ask before acting. A simple “Do you want a hand?” or “What works best for you?” prevents assumptions from taking over and gives the disabled person control of the interaction.
   
2. Listen properly to the answer. If someone says they are fine, believe them. If they say they need something different, take that at face value.
   
3. Create space for capability. That means stepping back enough for disabled people to show what they can do, rather than filling in the gaps with guesswork.
   

These three actions sound small, but together they shift the focus from assumption to respect and allow competence to be seen rather than quietly limited.

​Have you ever had your life turned upside down? Things are going great, then something gets flung your way that you never expected?
 
Yep, that happened to me… 
 
I had this awesome sports career that just got better and better. It was a bit of a whirlwind really. I started archery on my fifteenth birthday, made the Great Britain team three years later and jumped straight in as World Number 1. Year on year I outdid myself. World records, world titles, world firsts. I pushed the boundaries of my potential and redefined what I thought I was capable of.

Whenever I am asked about the important factors that lead to success in sport it can unreservedly be summed up in one word: passion. 
 
If you love what you do then you’re going to want to put in however much time and effort it takes to achieve scary, big goals. Passion is the thing that inspires you to keep striving for better. It ensures you keep learning and evolving, and think up creative strategies to drive performance. It’s your motivation to find a way around the obstacles that inevitably crop up and stops you from walking away when things get impossibly tough.
 
And I was passionate about my sport. I poured my heart and soul into it. Archery had changed my life in such a profound way, empowering me to live life on my terms when I became disabled. This was my purpose, my reason for getting up in the morning. And I was good at it.
 
But then something happened that I couldn’t prepare for. The International Paralympic Committee changed the rules around classification. Whilst I’d always passed this with flying colours, under the new rules it was decided that my disability did not affect my ability enough. And that was it. I was no longer allowed to compete as a Paralympian. Overnight I lost everything. 
 
My sport. My purpose. My way of life. My identity.
 
My life came crashing down and I quickly moved from shock to disbelief. The classifiers saw what I wanted the outside world to see and didn’t understand just how limiting my condition was, so I contested it. I appealed and protested, and I got nowhere. Failing again was almost worse than the first time. I felt angry, frustrated and alone. 
 
Lost. 
 
But life moves forward whether you want it to or not. My only option was to adapt to the situation. I could do nothing about the classification decision, but I could control my response to it. Instead of focusing on all the things I had lost, I focused on what I had left. I needed to find a new purpose, one that I was just as passionate about as my sport. 
 
And that’s exactly what I did. I reinvented myself, set up a speaking, training and coaching business – and I absolutely LOVE what I do now.
 
Life doesn’t always go to plan, but we are all capable of breaking through barriers. When you’re thrown a curveball here are three things that you can do: 
 

When stuff goes wrong it’s usually accompanied by an emotional response, making us feel pretty rubbish about ourselves and the situation. Emotions are healthy and we don’t want to switch them off, but we don’t want them to interfere in any decision-making processes either. When we’re thinking emotionally, we aren’t always able to see things with clarity. Putting things into perspective allows us to respond better. Acknowledging your emotions and practicing self-compassion is important, then take some time to reflect on the situation and the reality of it. 
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