Why I Can’t Work — but Can Run a Webshop: Living with Complex Disability, PTSD and Purpose

Why I Can’t Work, But Can Run a Webshop

— and why that’s not a contradiction

Why I’m writing this blog

Recently, a series aired on Dutch television (NPO) about people receiving disability benefits.

And like clockwork, it stirred up the usual discussion:

Who “deserves” support? And when are you just a “benefit scrounger”?

I notice it myself too.

I often get comments thrown at me online like:

“You could just work, right?”

“Why do you get benefits if you run a webshop?”

“You seem smart enough, no reason for you to stay home.”

And to be honest? I get where it comes from.

I come across as articulate — especially in writing.

People often assume I function better than I really do.

Because yes: I can do a lot. I am strong.

But there’s also a lot I can’t do. And that’s where I crash.

I live with complex PTSD. I have multiple personality parts.

I’m autistic — severely, though high-functioning.

I have many talents, yes. But I also need help. Every day.

What people often don’t see:

They see me on good days.

The moments I “seem fine.”

They don’t see what it costs. How long I need to recover afterward.

How much planning, pain, stress, and pacing it takes to do one thing.

What you see is just the tip of the iceberg. The rest isn’t hidden — it’s just often overlooked.

That’s why I’m writing this.

Not to complain. Not to ask for pity.

But to offer openness.

So that maybe you’ll understand my story before judging it.

And maybe — someone reading this will feel a little less alone.

I really tried — three times, actually

Before I had to stop working, I tried everything.

My health issues started even before college, but I pushed through.

I began one degree. It was physically too much.

So I switched to a second. That didn’t work either.

No accommodations were available. So I chose something else entirely —

because I just wanted to do something.

“Doesn’t matter what, I have to do something,” I told myself.

Eventually, I started a work-study program at a lower level than I was capable of —

not because it was my dream, but because I just wanted to participate.

Because standing still wasn’t an option.

Because society constantly asks: “So what do you do?”

But no matter how hard I tried, I hit the wall.

Physically. Mentally. In the healthcare system. In the bureaucracy.

I didn’t stop working because I didn’t want to.

I stopped because I simply couldn’t — no matter how hard I tried.

And when society doesn’t have space for you…

you build your own space.

My body and mind don’t follow a 9-to-5

I live with medical and psychological conditions that affect my daily life.

I take heavy pain medication — including chronic morphine.

I rely on a mobility scooter.

And it’s not just one diagnosis. It’s a complex puzzle:

🩺 Chronic pain, movement limitations, orthostatic intolerance (NAO),

heart and lung issues, chronic fatigue, neurological & rheumatic disorders, and acquired brain injury (ABI/NAH).

Any one of those would be a challenge.

But the combination makes “holding a job” virtually impossible — physically and mentally.

And I’m also stuck in a system that has no space for complexity.

No treatment. No perspective. Still — I won’t give up.

I live with complex PTSD and multiple personality parts.

Not metaphorically. Literally.

At least seven parts function independently — each with their own memories, reactions, and needs.

Daily life becomes intense.

But I’ve learned to manage it.

In my own space. With structure, clarity, and calm.

I’ve applied to over 35 clinics for trauma treatment.

Every one of them said no.

“Too complex.”

“Too high risk.”

“Not treatable within our framework.”

So yes — I’m officially “untreatable” in the Netherlands.

And no, I’m not okay with that.

But I have learned how to survive.

And how to build something — against the current.

I communicate in writing (and sometimes through someone else)

I express myself much better in writing than in speech.

It gives me structure, calm, and control.

In important conversations, I often have a personal assistant speak for me.

She knows me well, translates when I freeze, and helps avoid miscommunication.

(Of course you can call me — but I might not remember the details later 😅)

And no — I write my letters myself

Some people assume I let AI write everything.

But no.

I write my own letters. My content. My voice. My choices.

Yes, I sometimes use ChatGPT to help polish tone or structure —

just like someone might use spell check or a draft notebook.

But the voice is mine.

For years, I wasn’t allowed to do

anything

What makes it even harder?

Even the things I could do — weren’t allowed.

Reading to seniors? Not allowed.

Helping at school? Not allowed.

Volunteering? Not allowed.

Because the benefits office said:

“If you can do that, then you can work.”

I fought for five years just to be allowed to contribute in my way.

And now that I finally can…

people say I’m abusing the system?

No.

I didn’t exploit the system. I survived it.

SuperheldenHulphond: my self-built day program

When my official day support got cut, I had no choice.

Other options were too far away — physically impossible.

So I built my own space.

My webshop.

And that means:

🛏 Sometimes I work from bed.

🪑 Sometimes from the couch.

🧍🏽 Sometimes standing at a work table.

🪫 Sometimes I lie flat for days.

🏥 And sometimes I work from the hospital.

Sometimes I manage an hour at night.

Sometimes I do nothing for weeks.

My products are carefully chosen and adapted to what I can handle.

They’re not all handmade from scratch — but they’re thoughtfully created.

I build what’s sustainable.

Even on my worst days.

Legally? It’s all above board

Yes, I receive benefits.

Yes, I run a webshop.

And no — that’s not a secret.

✔️ I have permission from the Dutch benefits office (UWV)

✔️ The tax authorities are informed

✔️ My trademark is filed and nearly approved

✔️ My income is modest and transparent — and within legal limits

I do this carefully. With transparency and intention.

No profit — but plenty of value

My webshop currently runs at a loss.

And that’s fine.

I want to contribute.

For other service dog teams. For people stuck in the system.

For those looking for accessible, real-life tools.

That’s why I offer free downloads.

That’s why I build affordable, useful products.

That’s why I create — with everything I’ve got.

To everyone who doubts people like me

I get it.

A webshop and benefits? It seems odd.

But please, look deeper than what’s on the surface.

I can only do this, because I’m not in regular employment.

I contribute — within my capacity. And that counts too.

In closing

I’m not sharing this for pity.

I’m sharing it for clarity.

For recognition.

For everyone who wants to contribute, but can’t in the way society expects.

For everyone who has to defend themselves over and over again.

You are not lazy.

You are not dishonest.

You are contributing.

In your own way.

And that’s enough.

— Rebekka

SuperheldenHulphond.nl