There are lots of assumptions made about disabled people. It’s assumed that we are unintelligent, have no desire for independence, are lazy, ungrateful, uncooperative, and only our mothers could ever love us due to our needs. It’s assumed we’re not educated, employed, or even able to break the law (disclaimer: I am not a criminal, I’m making a point, please don’t call the FBI). There is, however, one assumption that to me seems the most problematic, and is responsible for a lot of the disagreements between able-bodied and disabled people: our mobility aids are seen as a prison.

Less than a year after contracting viral meningitis I was told by a physiotherapist, who at the time was advising my parents to buy me a wheelchair, not to become overly dependent on said wheelchair. It instilled within me a fear of my wheelchair and I used it as little as possible, unable to admit to myself when I really needed to rest. I almost seemed to be in denial that I was ill in the first place. That, among other factors such as being denied the right to drop some classes including gym and dance, and the very same physiotherapist pushing me through Graded Exercise Therapy far too quickly, led to the deterioration of my health. I spiralled out of control until I was begrudgingly using the wheelchair every time I left the house.

At this point I faced a difficult choice, neither of which could be defined as right or wrong. I could “give in” to my illness and embrace the use of a wheelchair, or I could shut myself indoors in the hope that I would get well again. Essentially I had to sacrifice either my health or my education. Spoiler alert: I let my health take the fall.

My wheelchair was never a prison. It enabled me to finish school, go to university, get a job I hated, get a job I loved, have a social life, and GET FRICKING MARRIED. I go shopping, I go for meals out, I go for drinks, I go to the cinema, and I’ve even been clubbing once or twice as a student (not really my scene). My wheelchair isn’t a prison, it’s my freedom (and now the title of this post makes sense).

I strongly believe that if more people understood this they would stop feeling sorry for me, and therefore they would be able to see that I’m a (relatively) normal person trying to do this “adulting” thing. The notion that “surrendering” to the use of a mobility aid is a bad thing is a terrible notion. Yes, being in a wheelchair has its flaws (see the entire rest of this blog for evidence), but I don’t for one second regret getting into the habit of using it simply because my quality of life has actually improved. I’m not confined to a wheelchair, I’m liberated by it.