Why Am I Feeling This Way?

Hello and welcome to another week at Humbly Courageous. If you are new, I am so glad you stopped by. Each week, it's so exciting to see how many are reading. It's been a labor of love, so when I see that this little blog is reaching others, it makes my heart happy!

The weeks leading up to my spring break trip with my family and some of our friends, I couldn’t figure out why I was feeling so hesitant. Every time I would think about going, I wasn’t feeling the excitement I used to feel leading up to a vacation to the beach. I used to count the number of sleeps before a beach vacation. 

Now, as the date got closer and closer I started to panic a little more. It was bugging me and I was frustrated with myself because it’s certainly something to be grateful for. 

Then, it hit me. The reason I was feeling this way. Going to the beach has become increasingly harder for me with each year that goes by, and my disease and age take away my strength. It makes me cry to think about how once a favorite place to me has become something I almost dread. Beaches aren’t accessible places. My scooter has to be left at a certain point and then I have to somehow get to wherever we will be sitting. Luckily, I have help from my husband, for which I’m immensely grateful. 

The walk through the sand is treacherous for me and completely exhausting. What once was possible, is now nearly impossible. Once seated at the beach, I’m stuck. I can’t hop up to go cool off in the water, go for a nice long walk on the beach, or leave to use the restroom on my own accord. It's a production if I have to go to the restroom. I will sit uncomfortably until the last second, so I don’t have to interrupt someone else’s relaxation with my needs. 

I sit and watch all the people on the beach doing all the things I want my body to do. Playing beach games, standing up because they are tired of sitting, simple things. I find myself fixated on couples leisurely strolling along the beach. I wish I could do that with my husband. It’s silent torture. I don’t feel bitterness towards them, only sadness for me. I wonder if they even realize how lucky they are? Probably not. We tend to gloss over our abilities, myself included.

To many who don’t understand these feelings, I will come off as ungrateful and as feeling sorry for myself. You would be correct. Sometimes, that’s unavoidable I suppose.

Being on vacation isn’t as relaxing for me anymore. I’m out of my routine and my familiar territory, which I’ve memorized and know the steps I take. My week is spent figuring out how to navigate new types of flooring, trying to get into a bed that isn’t mine, new shower, where I will sit to get dressed etc. By the time I get comfortable with it, it will be time to leave. 

This time, the place was fairly accessible thank goodness. From the pictures we saw beforehand it seemed to be, but until I arrive, I never really know. For me, when I first get to a new location, I have to access things carefully. This time, we had to remove several area rugs because those are definitely a tripping hazard. 

As I was getting the hang of things, I got sick, so that added another layer of difficulty into the trip. Luckily, it was pretty short lived, and I was able to enjoy the rest of my vacation with my family and our wonderful, supportive friends. Speaking of supportive friends, not long after we arrived, I got a text with a picture from my friend. She told me that at the end of the boardwalk to the beach, there was a beach wheelchair there for those who needed it. I can't tell you how much worry weight that took off my shoulders. There was a young man who was working at the beach that week. He was my chauffeur most days, which also took that stress off my husband. He was incredibly kind and helpful to us, and never once did I feel like I was putting him out to get my needs met. If you've ever pushed anything through powdery sand, you know it's not easy! 

My ride for the week at the beach 

With the beach packed, it was intimidating to ride in the beach wheelchair with many eyes glued on me. People are curious. If you've never been in that kind of situation it's hard to explain what that feels like. It kind of feels like being fully naked and standing in a room full of people staring at you. It's uncomfortable, and often times you hear comments you wish you never heard. That's the part I hate the most. Each time, I brace myself for those comments and try and tune them out the best I can. The good news is, most people were nice and many even offered to help us. 

One thing that also happened, many of the beachgoers were choosing to leave their shoes on the boardwalk, which blocked accessibility. Most days I had to park my scooter pretty far back because of the shoes. It made it harder not only for disabled people, but also for people who were  bringing strollers or wagons to the beach. 

By the end of the trip, I felt relieved that everything had worked out so well. I was able to relax and enjoy myself quite a bit, which was so nice. How lucky I am to have such a wonderful family, and friends who understand and support us in any way they can. 

It takes humble courage to step outside our comfort zone. We often spend a good deal of time dreading these moments. More times than not, things work out and we end up being glad we did those things. 💚

For more on my story, you can follow me on Insatgram @ashinneman

Check out my weekly column, "Disability in the City" in the Hamilton County Reporter. https://readthereporter.com/running-the-boston-marathon-part-2/