Studying abroad is often painted as a transformative adventure, an experience filled with discovery and personal growth. While that’s true to some extent, for disabled students like me, it can also bring unexpected challenges—challenges that test your resilience, demand self-advocacy, and force you to confront systems that often feel indifferent to your needs.
During my semester abroad in the UK, I faced a cascade of difficulties that no glossy study abroad brochure could have prepared me for. As someone with chronic disabilities my life is carefully balanced by medication, routines, and support systems. Yet, when my 90-day supply of medication ran out, I found myself in uncharted territory. Despite extensive efforts with NHS doctors and multiple pharmacies, I learned that my medication—and all alternatives—were completely unavailable in the UK.
The Impact of Losing Stability
Without my medication, tasks that were once manageable became insurmountable. I struggled to maintain basic routines like eating properly, cleaning, or keeping up with my studies. My cognitive abilities declined, my mental health deteriorated, and I found myself spiraling into a severe disability-related flare-up. Missing two weeks of classes was just the tip of the iceberg; the thought of failing courses, losing financial stability, or facing long-term health impacts weighed heavily on me.
What began as struggling to concentrate became a full-blown crisis. Everyday tasks like cooking and cleaning became overwhelming. I lost focus on my studies and my mental health took a hit. The places I went for help offered no real support. They apologized and threw out suggestions, like “welfare services,” that missed the real problem—I just needed my medication.
In an attempt to mitigate further damage to my stability, I made the difficult decision to leave the UK early and return to my home country, where I can access the care and medication I need. But leaving wasn’t as simple as booking a flight. I’m also leaving my housing security in the UK for the instability of searching for housing when I am back in the US.
That’s right… I’m choosing to fly home without housing waiting for me once I get there.
Housing and Institutional Challenges
My accommodation, managed by King’s Residences and Angel Lane, posed another significant hurdle. Since moving in, my flat’s kitchen window had been broken, leaving the space cold, damp, and uninhabitable. Despite months of complaints and escalations, the issue was only resolved—finally boarded up—three days before my departure, and only after I made a second formal complaint to escalate the broken window after receiving no repair for roughly six weeks.This simple repair took maybe 30 minutes to complete by construction workers (who have been onsite throughout my residency), and the fact that it took months to address is wildly unacceptable.
When I requested to terminate my housing contract early due to my disability-related circumstances (inability to access medication for symptom management has forced me to leave my residency early), my plea was dismissed without meaningful consideration. Instead, I was referred to “welfare services,” a suggestion that felt dismissive and irrelevant. The lack of empathy and understanding from the institution was not just frustrating; it was deeply disheartening.
Lessons in Advocacy
This experience taught me that advocating for yourself as a disabled student often feels like shouting into a void. Despite multiple attempts to communicate my needs and explain how these challenges were directly tied to my disability, I felt unheard. The processes were overly bureaucratic, and the solutions offered were either insufficient or irrelevant.
These challenges have taught me the power of persistence and determination. Every email, every escalation, and every attempt to explain my situation is a step toward asserting my worth and demanding the respect and accommodations I deserve. I’ve also learned how to stand up for myself in a new way: for my rights as a disabled student. But it should not feel like shouting into a void. It shouldn’t take so much effort just to get basic help and kindness.
What Needs to Change
Institutions like King’s College London must do better for disabled students, especially those navigating unfamiliar systems in a foreign country. Disability is not a one-size-fits-all experience, and offering generic, surface-level solutions without truly listening to individual needs perpetuates harm.
My experience highlighted systemic issues that go far beyond me:
- The lack of flexibility in housing contracts for students with extenuating circumstances.
- Insufficient access to critical medications for international students.
- The dismissive attitude toward disability-related appeals.
Moving Forward
Studying abroad was supposed to be an amazing chapter in my life. And it was—just not the way I thought it would be. Instead of cultural exploration, I learned about the struggle to be heard and the cost of being disabled in a system that doesn’t adapt. I’m leaving the UK with a mix of exhaustion, frustration, and hope. This isn’t the ending I wanted, but it gave me an opportunity to reflect on the resilience it takes to live authentically as a disabled person in systems that often fail to accommodate us. It’s an experience I’ll use to continue advocating for change.
To any other disabled students facing similar challenges: your voice matters, even when it feels like no one is listening. Keep speaking up.
If there’s one thing this experience has taught me, it’s this: We deserve better.
As always, please feel free to share your thoughts and revelations with me in the comments.
Until next time,
Audrey
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