All I wanted to do was use the restroom.
That’s it — something simple, something ordinary.
But the aisle leading to the bathroom at my local Target isn’t wide enough to turn my scooter. I sat there for a second, staring at the corner, trying to figure out the logistics. There was no graceful way to do it.
So my SO held my hand and helped me down the hallway — one slow step at a time — while I tried to balance between pain, frustration, and the quiet embarrassment that comes from needing help with something so basic.
🩶 The Invisible Weight
Accessibility isn’t about convenience. It’s about dignity.
It’s about being able to exist in a world without constantly having to explain, apologize, or ask for help.
That short trip to the bathroom left me fighting back tears — not because it was dramatic or catastrophic, but because it was one of those moments that sneaks up on you. The ones that whisper, “The world wasn’t made for you.”
I didn’t cry in the store. I waited until we got to the car.
My SO wiped away my tears while I tried to laugh it off, saying something like, “Well, that was fun.” But my chest ached in that way grief does — not sharp, just heavy.
🐾 The Comfort of Home
When I got home, Moosie was waiting — tail wagging, thoroughly sassing us out for leaving. He snuggled into me like he always does, somehow sensing the sadness I didn’t say out loud.
It’s funny how animals just know. They don’t need explanations or context; they just show up.
And in that quiet moment, I remembered why I share these stories — not for sympathy, but to remind myself (and maybe someone else out there) that the struggle doesn’t erase the beauty.
🌿 What Accessibility Really Means
When people talk about accessibility, they often think of ramps or buttons on doors.
But it’s so much more than that. It’s being able to move freely, to exist comfortably, to not need permission for basic things.
It’s being able to go out into the world without rehearsing backup plans in your head — without that quiet fear of, What if I can’t get there? What if I can’t fit? What if I can’t do this without help?Accessibility isn’t a luxury. It’s belonging.
And belonging shouldn’t depend on who’s available to help you that day.
☀️ Hope, One Aisle at a Time
Until then, I’ll keep showing up in the world however I can — sometimes on wheels, sometimes on crutches, sometimes just in words like these.
Because every story shared is one more reminder: We’re here. We matter.
Maybe someday, stores will think about people like me before the shelves go up — when designs aren’t just about maximizing space, but about making space.
And we deserve room to turn.