Over the past few weeks I have been spending a lot of time filling in funding applications. Anyone new to running a charity will tell you how time consuming, yet vital, this work is. It’s not a skill that comes naturally to me, and it requires a huge amount of effort. I sometimes get frustrated – I want to guide people in their sewing and sustainable use of textiles, not fill in forms all day every day. But the something happen, and it makes you stop and think. I have just submitted a form about disability and inclusion.
I live with invisible disability myself, and I’m neurodivergent. Most of the time I don’t talk about that much on Làmhan’s social media, because I want the spotlight to be on the work, the people we support, and the skills we’re passing on. But it is part of me, and part of what drives this charity. As I type this, I am sitting on my sofa at home in my pyjamas, feeling pretty sore. I have got an operation coming up at the end of the month, and I’ll be taking some time off work afterwards to recover.
Living with disability means you see the world differently. You know what it feels like to be underestimated, or to have your good intentions misunderstood. It’s tough and it can be utterly heartbreaking, but it has also given me a strong sense of purpose: to create spaces where people feel safe, included, and valued just as they are. And that’s exactly what seems to be happening at Làmhan.
We’ve noticed something really special: people who are neurodivergent, or who live with other disabilities, are gravitating towards us. It feels like we’re creating a space where everyone ‘gets’ each other, without needing to explain or apologise. A space that is comfortable, supportive, and authentic. That’s not something you can manufacture — it grows organically.
It helps that I am not the only one bringing this perspective. Most of our board members and colleagues also live with disabilities and/or neurodivergence, and that lived experience shapes everything we do. We do not just talk about inclusion; it’s at the heart of every decision, every workshop, every policy we put in place. Recently, we signed up to become an Endometriosis UK Friendly Employer — a small but important commitment that reflects our belief in recognising hidden conditions and making workplaces kinder.
I can’t talk about inclusion without mentioning my team and trustees. They are extraordinary. They’ve been nothing but supportive as I’ve prepared for time off, stepping in and making sure things keep moving. Their patience, encouragement, and sheer belief in what we’re building together make all the difference. I’m so grateful for them.
When I think about what this looks like in practice, I think about the workshop we held on Saturday with a group of young people. It was amazing to watch them discover new skills and learn new stuff. We also talked about different types of fabric and how they can be used more sustainably, drawing on Eden’s expertise from her MRes research in this area. We talked about embroidery, and I showed them some work I did a few years ago. The energy in the room was full of curiosity and possibility, and moments like that remind me exactly why we do this work.
So yes, filling in funding applications can be exhausting, especially when you live with disability and chronic illness. But every time I see a young person light up at mastering something new, or hear someone say they feel included and understood in our space, I know that it is worth it. Inclusion is not just a line in a form — it is a daily practice, it is what sustains us, and it is the one of the main reasons Làmhan exists.