(Lack of) Awareness?

Today’s episode of my random, inconsequential musings features another little story for you all. How exciting.

The other day, I was super early for class and asked another student to grab me a more supportive, accessible chair to sit in (the chairs in the auditorium are inaccessible. They swivel out, they don’t pull out like a regular chair. Shocker!). So, the classmate grabbed the better, more comfortable, ergonomic chair. That was all nice and good. Mind you, that was probably the most interaction we had since the start of the semester. I mean, this person probably couldn’t tell me my last name.


Wait though, there’s more. This classmate asked me, “How much longer do you need crutches for?”

A new one, right? I couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit. This idea that the crutches, which are practically extensions of my arms, are temporary. Ha! If he only knew! I guess my classmate interpreted my chuckle to mean I was offended, because he immediately started apologizing. Repeatedly. Ah, yes. Guilt. Embarrassment? Nah, probably fear of getting canceled. It was like he was scared I was going to bite him or something. Or take my crutches and clobber him on his head. Bro, I wasn’t going to bite you. I wasn’t going to clobber you, either, because I wasn’t offended. I was amused. I have to say, it was a little fun to watch him squirm in discomfort….at his own question. What’s that expression again? Right…curiosity killed the cat. Relax, I’m kidding. He did make it really awkward though, unnecessarily. Chill out. Let’s talk.

I replied, “I’m disabled. I don’t foresee getting off the crutches anytime soon.”

I guess all the times I walked into the auditorium and around the school building, on crutches, wasn’t a giant enough clue for this person. Oh, I sit next to him in class by the way. I’ve literally never changed seats because I sit in the accessible space, built for wheelchairs. It’s what allows me to sit in an ergonomic chair in the first place. …Man. I wonder…is it a lack of awareness on his part? A lack of knowledge? Lack of exposure to disabled people? Who knows. You would think, though, that he’d understand the crutches aren’t temporary, seeing as I physically can’t walk down the hall or leave my seat without them. No matter the distance or where I need to go, I use the crutches.

You might be wondering if I’m sad about that reality. I used to be. Back when I was an impressionable teenager, young adult who had no idea what I was doing, back when I thought the crutches made my life harder, not easier. I was wrong. I mean, sure, it can be frustrating to be unable to carry anything in my hands or to rely on crutches a whole lot. Nothing is perfect. I get callouses on my hands, dry skin, cuts, what have you. I mean, I finally had the sense to upgrade my crutches a while ago so that the handles were soft, yet the callouses appear without fail. You can stop playing the world’s smallest, sad little violin now – I haven’t finished.

The fact is, the crutches give me way more freedom to move around. At this point, I’m so experienced with them that I zoom around everywhere. Fast, apparently. I consider that a gift. If I didn’t have the crutches? If they broke or got stolen? I’d be in deep trouble. That’s why people often see me gripping them for dear life, especially when I’m on the subway. It’s also why I refuse assistance, especially from strangers. The lack of trust is real.

On another note, it’s so interesting to discover other people’s perceptions of me. The interaction with this classmate felt like I was experiencing myself from the outside. Imagine that. Crutches that I could abandon to walk unassisted. To me, that possibility is in the past. I truly don’t foresee being able to get off the crutches. Yeah, yeah, make that sympathetic, sad face and get on with it, please. I mean it, stop playing that violin!

At this point, my reliance on the crutches is probably a mental thing. You know, because of The Fear. Yes, I capitalized that for a reason. The fear of falling, of causing irreparable damage, which can totally happen if I don’t fall properly, the intense mental block that hits when I’m faced with walking across a wide open space without that extra support the crutches faithfully provide. I’ve written about The Fear before. It’s a real thing. It’s very strong. It’s easy to say, “just trust yourself and walk.” Too easy. The Fear is difficult to rupture. And I feel someone non-disabled would only understand that if they took a little visit to the inside of my head.

The Fear is likely intertwined with lack of trust in myself….doubt that my legs will hold me up on their own. It’s definitely linked to anxiety, which has only gotten worse as I’ve aged. Fun fact: those who have cerebral palsy are much more likely to live with anxiety than those who are non-disabled. To me, the connection is obvious. The Fear. The Startle Reflex. Feeling about five times more vulnerable physically in many situations than my non-disabled colleagues, friends and total strangers. I’m willing to bet on that.

Another thing. Honestly, the crutches aren’t some spectacle or grand thing. They’re just crutches. They help me walk, whether you’ve had exposure to them or not. They’re not a big deal. I’m not that different from you, non-disabled reader. Don’t read that as me being salty. It’s an aside.

Okay, today’s episode has now concluded. Hope you’ve enjoyed or maybe even learned something. Not that I want to teach, really. See ya.