I went on exchange with a disability. Here's what I learned
Ida, DenmarkEven though I have a disability, I want to live a life driven by desire and dreams. So I decided to give it a try - That is what I would encourage anyone to do. Adjust things here and there if doing so brings you closer to a positive experience with something that feels overwhelming or frightening. And, above all, give yourself credit for trying.
I went on exchange as part of my degree. That may sound like a relatively ordinary achievement, but for me, it was a huge hurdle to overcome.
In 2021, I fell while roller-skating and hit the back of my head hard against the paving stones beneath me. I sustained a concussion and whiplash. I had to take a year off from my studies, and I still struggle with long-term symptoms every day, including post-traumatic headaches and migraines. My day-to-day life as a student of Danish at the University of Copenhagen is carefully structured around these symptoms: lots of short breaks throughout the day, physical rehabilitation, and a ruthless weighing-up of how much of a social life I can afford to have.
That was why the prospect of going on exchange seemed like an insurmountable mountain. My everyday life already felt like a fragile house of cards, and I was afraid that if I tried to transport it beyond Denmark’s borders, the whole thing would come crashing down.
More specifically, I was worried that being taught in English would be cognitively challenging, and I was nervous about having to explain my low energy levels to a whole host of new people. Would I have enough energy to form friendships while simultaneously navigating an entirely new city and living situation?
When you acquire a disability, you experience your old self crumbling between your hands. Many of the activities I used to enjoy and identify with are no longer things I can take part in. Simply not being in control of how you spend your time, because a migraine attack can strike without warning, leads to a loss of personal agency. I had always wanted to go on exchange, preferably to Paris. Did I really have to give up yet another of my many dreams?
As the application deadline for exchange programmes began to approach, I therefore went to my SPS adviser — SPS being the Danish system for Special Educational Support — with my dilemma.
In Socratic fashion, she asked me why I wanted to go on exchange. It annoyed me. Because why does anyone want to go on exchange in the first place? Surely the answer is: well, why not? You do not go on exchange with a specific purpose in mind; it is precisely the uncertainty of the experience that makes it appealing. Whether you have a disability or not, going on exchange is both expensive and a hassle. And yet thousands of University of Copenhagen students go abroad every year because, why not?
Her question made me feel as though having a disability meant I ought to have a compelling argument for applying. A good reason or a purpose that could justify taking on the additional stress an exchange semester would inevitably involve.
But even though I have a disability, I want to live a life driven by desire and dreams. So I decided to give it a try.
As the saying goes, if you have to eat an elephant, you do it one bite at a time. So I took matters into my own hands and got started.
My strategy had two parts. First, I made an agreement with myself that I was allowed to back out at any point. Going abroad and completing the semester would not be the measure of success. The attempt itself was the goal. Second, I would make the whole process as easy as possible for myself.
I chose my destination carefully. I was determined to choose an EU country because that would automatically make me eligible for an Erasmus grant. No stress of applying to foundations for funding. Students with disabilities are also eligible for a Fewer Opportunities top-up. Having more money at my disposal would make the whole experience considerably easier.
I had to let go of my dream of Paris. It would simply have been too challenging, as teaching at the host university would primarily have been in the national language.
The same applied to countries such as Spain, Portugal and Italy. At Dutch universities, I could see that many courses were taught in English, but warnings about Amsterdam’s housing crisis put me off.
I decided instead to take a closer look at Eastern European countries, where the cost of living is also lower than at home. And so I settled on Charles University in Prague.
Since I had never been to Prague before, I went there for a long weekend to get a feel for the city. Knowing the place a little before putting so much effort into moving there gave me a sense of calm. It made what I was working towards feel more tangible.
As I write this, I have just completed my semester in Prague.
At first, learning how to navigate the host university’s systems was stressful. Then there were all the rules surrounding credit transfers when studying abroad. A truly Kafkaesque experience — and in Prague, of all places!
It took extra energy to form new friendships with the other Erasmus students, but I rose to the challenge and discovered that although the others could go out drinking beer several nights in a row and still have the energy for weekend trips to other cities, we nevertheless shared some of the same worries — albeit to different degrees.
I can now conclude that feelings of inadequacy and the fear of doing exchange “wrong” are rife among all Erasmus students. It is like a revival of that adolescent form of FOMO. A new city lies open before you, and suddenly you have to do Everything.
But nobody can do Everything, and because of my long-term symptoms, I was nowhere near able to do everything I would have liked. But those of us with disabilities tend to develop an immunity to FOMO over the years.
Once you have missed enough parties and festivals, eventually you stop tormenting yourself over it. You have to.
It is a useful skill to bring with you on exchange — and through life in general.
I have to admit, though, that this immunity can come with side effects: it can kill the spontaneous desire for fun and new experiences.
My attempt at the exchange adventure brought that desire back to life.
My stay was educational and, in many ways, wonderful. But the most enriching part was actually the simple decision to put desire in the driver’s seat and try to go in the first place.
We usually only celebrate those who manage to fulfil their dreams exactly as they imagined them. But for those of us living with chronic pain or other forms of disability, there is something admirable in simply continuing to dream and continuing to try to make those dreams a reality.
Sometimes dreams can come true if you are willing to adapt them a little. That is what I would encourage anyone to do. Adjust things here and there if doing so brings you closer to a positive experience with something that feels overwhelming or frightening. And, above all, give yourself credit for trying.
Updated on Friday, 21/08/2026