Why I love my wheelchair

I used to feel bad for people "in a wheelchair". When I was a healthy, able bodied person I had that common thought that people were "confined to" or "trapped by" their chairs. But as my mobility and strength worsened and I had to start to use mobility aides myself, I began to realize what I think all disabled people already knew all along. None of these tools are traps. None of them are confining or something to be pitied. For me they all represent freedom. Especially my wheelchair.

My mother was commenting the other day how I've always done things fast. Walk fast, eat fast, finish tasks fast, clean fast... That's very true. My son and I both walk very fast and have very long legs. My husband (whose the shortest one in the family) was constantly struggling to keep up. Until my mobility became a challenge. Then of course everyone was waiting on me. My chair gave me back that sense of freedom and independence, but it also gave me something else. SPEED!

I didn't even realize "going fast" was at all something I was missing. My husband will confirm that I used to not enjoy going for walks because it was too slow of a mode of transportation for me. I still remember the first time I sat in my chair and zipped down the street that thrill that I had in my chest. It was the same feeling as a little kid zooming downhill on their bike. And every time I'm alone and get to go fast in my chair out in nature I feel that same thrill.

For me my chair means independence. It's a physical extension of my body. It's nothing I'm "confined to" but rather something I'm fortunate to have! That's also why I like to name my mobility tools. Because to me they're much more than tools. They're blessings.