The lack of ease in disability

Yesterday, I was at home sitting at our dining room table when the whole apartment filled up with the sunset light. It does this every day in the winter, and it's one of my favourite things. 

And as I sat there, surrounded by golden light, I took a deep breath and felt my body relax into itself. I felt entirely at ease. 

And it made me think. There are only a handful of scenarios in which I actually feel fully at ease in my body. Most of them are when I'm at home, or with friends and family that know to proactively look out for my needs, or in environments that have been curated for the disabled experience.

If I dig a little deeper (thanks, therapy) I can say that this sense of ease is one of the primary reasons I envy non-disabled people.

I'm not really bothered by the fact that non-disabled people can access places I can't or can do things I can't. I've managed to come to terms with that. Plus, engaging more with the disabled community, building up my vocabulary around disability advocacy, and tapping into the little voice in my head that demands justice makes me more mad than sad about those things. 

(It's also not the fault of the non-disabled individuals that can do these things, but ableist systems that keep disabled people on the sidelines.)

What I envy is the ease of movement they feel. How easy it is for them to shift from one position to the other. Their ability to get immediately comfortable in space. The lack of need to assess the layout of their environment and wonder if they can get from one corner to the other. 

Because disabled people rarely feel that ease. We are constantly aware of our environments and how our bodies fit into them. We constantly think about how to move, find clunky ways to fit in, and have to compromise with feeling slightly uncomfortable in most spaces. 

And — going back to the parenthetical statement above — this is because of the systems in place that make it so that true accessibility feels like a luxury, not a commonplace reality. 

It should be commonplace. I should be able to feel comfortable and at ease everywhere I go. And so should every other disabled person.