From ballroom to hip-hop, I tried many dance classes growing up, but nothing stuck. My body never found its rhythm, I quickly got exhausted, and I concluded I just wasn't made for exercise. My theory was confirmed at 13 when I was diagnosed with Friedreich's ataxia (FA), a rare progressive neuromuscular disease causing nerve damage, muscle weakness, and mobility loss. Now 29 and in a wheelchair, I still love to dance but rarely get the chance.

Three years ago, I read an opinion piece by Kate Stanforth, a professional wheelchair-using dancer, and followed her career with delight. Stanforth started ballet at age two, trained pre-professionally from eight, and continued dancing after becoming unwell as a teen until forced to stop. Diagnosed with ME (myalgic encephalomyelitis) and later Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, she founded the Kate Stanforth Academy of Arts, an award-winning inclusive arts organisation. "Ballet was never simply a hobby," she said. "Even when I became unwell at 14, that passion never disappeared."

When I heard she was hosting an adaptive ballet class with the Royal Ballet School, supported by Allied Mobility, I jumped at the chance - even from Dublin to London. Entering the school, I felt like an impostor passing young girls in the hallways. But any nervousness melted when I saw a dozen wheelchair dancers in a circle doing warm-ups. The class, led by Stanforth and Rachael Hunt, started at the barre. My movements weren't perfect, but my abilities were accepted, and that meant everything.

We worked on repertoire from Giselle, a 19th-century romantic ballet. I watched dancers cross the room one by one, arms gracefully extended between synchronized wheelchair pushes. They looked like they were swimming through the air. It was beautiful - and it seemed stage productions are doing themselves a disservice by not including these fabulous dancers.

After the class, I felt a satisfied tiredness, the opposite of frustrated exhaustion. Stanforth said sessions sold out in minutes, with hundreds on the waiting list. Dancers came from all over the UK and even the Netherlands. "This community is not small or rare - it has simply not always been visible," she said, referring to 500 disabled dancers worldwide. "As that visibility grows, so does the possibility of a more open, inclusive future for ballet, where no dancer has to question whether they belong."

It's now obvious there's a place for disabled people in dance. The industry needs more like Stanforth to make dance accessible. When the class ended, I had new motivation to turn adaptive ballet into a hobby. If a class like this existed closer to home, I'd be a regular.