PGP / SPD My story:

Speaking Up – Preparing for My Disability Awareness Talk By Sarah Wingfield 🌹 I’m so excited to have been invited to deliver a Disability Awareness Talk as part of my ongoing community advocacy work. It genuinely means so much to be trusted with a platform to speak honestly about lived experience, challenge bias, and offer insight into the realities of disability. This isn’t just a talk—it’s part of my mission to create safer, more inclusive spaces for everyone. What I’m Preparing My talk will blend personal storytelling with education and a strong call to action. I’ll be discussing things like: What dynamic and invisible disabilities are—and how they affect us day to day How language, judgment, and assumptions impact the disabled community Real examples of ableism and how we can dismantle it, together The importance of accessibility, understanding, and support in every space I’ve worked hard to make this talk engaging and inclusive. Even the introduction includes a visual description...

Image Alt text: Black background with white text: Event Accessibility Checklist by Sarah Wingfield. Image also has a white logo of a heart with Kawaii Doll Decora stated inside at the top. Accessibility Improvements – Ayclive: Comprehensive Inclusion Checklist, by Sarah Wingfield 🌹  Sensory Bags (Available for Borrowing or Renting) Each sensory bag should include: Noise-cancelling headphones or ear defenders Fidget toys (including different textures and types for sensory regulation) Mood cards (to help communicate feelings non-verbally) Sunglasses or coloured overlays for light sensitivity Tissues and grounding items (e.g. soft fabric, small weighted object) Laminated sensory cue cards with simple statements (e.g. "I need a break", "Please speak slowly") --- Disability Support Team A visible, designated team trained in autism, chronic illness, sensory processing disorders, and mental health conditions Staffed by individuals who are calm, respectful, and trained in ...

Improving Accessibility and Inclusion at Ayclive Festival I have emailed the following: Dear Ayclive Festival Team, I’m reaching out in the hope of initiating a constructive dialogue regarding accessibility and disability inclusion at Ayclive. Putting aside the personal bias I experienced in person from the manager, Paul Howarth, I want to clarify that I don’t hate your festival. In fact, I care deeply about making it better—not just for myself, but for all disabled residents of Newton Aycliffe. My goal is simply to see improved support and awareness for those with disabilities, particularly invisible illnesses, so that Ayclive can be a more welcoming event for everyone in our community. I was disappointed to be blocked from the Ayclive page, as it appeared to be a way of silencing legitimate concerns. Rather than shut people out, I believe there is real opportunity here to collaborate and grow. As an Independent Disability Advocate, I would be more than willing to work with your team ...

Seeking Compassion - Humour helps: One of my strongest memories from Ayclive is also one of the hardest. I was shaking, in pain, and sat on the floor at the entrance — overwhelmed, ignored, and treated with hostility. In the middle of all that, someone asked me for my ticket QR code. I said, “I’ll see if I can find that for you… and while I’m at it, maybe I’ll try and find some compassion too — it seems to be in short supply.” One of the few kind staff nearby chuckled, and so did I. I was having a PTSD flashback, completely caught up in a wave of panic and helplessness — but that moment of humour, my own defiance in the face of it all, snapped me out of it. Even as I relived the trauma, the memory of that small spark made me giggle again. And reminded me: humour is a valid coping strategy. Whoever said it isn’t clearly hasn’t needed it like we have. — Sarah Independent Disability Advocate #Disability #DisabilityInclusion #PTSDRecovery #DisabledAndProud #StrongerTogether #ChronicIllness...

 Re-Traumatisation Is Real — And We Need to Talk About It There’s a quiet kind of pain that doesn’t always get acknowledged. It hides in plain sight. It can be triggered by the smallest moment — a look, a tone, an act of exclusion — and suddenly, you’re no longer in the present. You’re back there. Back in the memory. Back in the pain. That’s re-traumatisation. And it’s more common than people realise. What Is Re-Traumatisation? Re-traumatisation happens when something in the present activates the same emotional or physiological response you had during a past traumatic event. It can be loud — like a meltdown, panic attack, or visible distress — but more often, it’s quiet. It looks like shutting down. Dissociating. Going non-verbal. Suddenly freezing. Shaking. Tears you didn’t expect. It’s the body remembering. It’s the nervous system going, “We’ve been here before — and last time, we weren’t safe.” This isn’t weakness. This isn’t overreacting. This is biology. Psychology. Survival. ...

 Turn pain and lessons into power and action. ❤️✨ Disability Rights: Alt text: An illustrated group portrait of diverse individuals of different ages and abilities, including children, adults, and elderly people. Several are seated in wheelchairs, one uses a cane, and others are standing, showcasing visible diversity in disability. The group is facing forward with calm, determined expressions. The text above the group reads, “Turn pain and lessons into power and action.” Below, it says, “Disability Rights.” A heart in the top right corner contains the words “Kawaii Doll Decora,” and the same name appears vertically along the left edge as a watermark . I’m exhausted by the state of the world — but more determined than ever to change it. People need a reality check. The disabled community needs authentic voices, because those merely playing at supporting disability are revealing their true colours. Masks are slipping. And ableism persists — even from within our own community. When a ...

 💔 After spending a full year supporting this event, I promoted it, interacted with their posts, planned extensively, invested money, and made sure I had a safe space (a tent) to manage my autism. I even left them their only positive review — which I’ve now deleted. I was hopeful. But in the end, none of it mattered. My disability ID, walking stick, visible lanyard… completely ignored. Accessibility was denied. I was mistreated, triggered into a POTS episode, and offered only blame instead of care. And I’m now waiting for a refund. If you're disabled, excitement about events comes with risk. We put in triple the effort just to be included — and too often, we’re met with ignorance, exclusion, or outright harm. I hope no one else ever has to endure what I did. Lessons can be blessings, I suppose — but right now, the only lesson I see is this: some people will choose bullying over empathy every time… and they’ll do it proudly. Sarah Wingfield ❤️ Independent Disability Advocate | Acce...