Meeting Halfway

I was talking to someone about getting together in person, and I first suggested, “Can we meet at my place?”

It was far enough of a trip for them that they asked if we could meet somewhere midway.

I paused.

There was a tinge of pain inside me.

Because I wanted to.

Genuinely.

I would love to go out and hang out somewhere.

I would love to go out and get some fresh air.

I would love to have a social life that does not require a million calculations and research tasks before I even know whether I can safely leave my home.

Reality is not so simple, is it?

Someone with access needs can’t always just wake up in the morning and think, Oh, the weather is nice. I’d like to go to a park.

When I want to go out, I look at the temperature outside.

I look at accessible routes, if any, that I can use my wheelchair on.

Then I need to look at places where I won’t be exposed to smoke or strong fragrances or loud sounds that might mean I collapse or go unconscious.

Then, if somewhere is farther than I can travel by wheelchair, I need to find a wheelchair accessible vehicle that can accommodate my Permobil F5.

And if all that somehow aligns, I need to see how I pay for the whole thing, because I have $0 in every single account associated with me.

Magically, if all of those are taken care of, I still need to pack my to-go kit.

Cooling packs.

Heating packs.

EpiPens.

Swallowing support drinks.

Rescue inhaler.

Sound dampening tools.

Glasses.

Masks, even though I can’t breathe with them.

I have heard so many people say, “Yeah, I hate masks,” and I’m like, Oh, you see, I actually have collapsing airways, so I struggle to breathe on a good day. But I will still wear masks because I would rather suffocate than get sick or inhale smoke, in which case I need a rescue inhaler and hope I don’t go unconscious.

So yes, I understand you hate masks.

Can we please not equate our experiences, though?

And then there are a bunch of other things I can’t think of right now, but they are on a big list I have somewhere that reminds me what all I need to keep myself safe in the world we live in.

Can I tell you something?

I wish it wasn’t so freaking difficult to just live and socialize.

I remember, on my birthday recently, Mary, my neighbor who joined me, saw me pack all of them and said, “I never realized how much you had to prepare. I’m sorry.”

I remember I just smiled and said, “Yeah, I’m just grateful I am able to. Thank you for joining me and being patient.”

You know what is interesting?

I have been setting up my wheelchair, Oona, to be a full-infrastructure support for me when I am out.

I have so many things on her now, thanks to Tony, my wonderful Assistive Technology Professional.

Do you know what would help Oona actually become that for me?

Do you know what would help me actually live my life without at least worrying about temperature and sensory safety every single time?

A portable air filter attachable to Oona.

Portable cooling and heating attachable to Oona.

A second set of the things I need for my to-go kit, so I don’t have to scramble and pack every single time.

What about the vehicle and the routes and the places that are not accessible, you ask?

What a wonderful thing it would be to actually own a wheelchair accessible vehicle that I could ask an IHSS care provider to drive for me, so I don’t have to call multiple nonprofits, give them at least five days’ notice, and provide a set start and end time.

I could actually go and live my life.

I could actually come back when I want to come back.

About the routes and places that are not accessible, I won’t claim to know if one concrete thing might make a dent in all of that.

Wait.

Maybe a dent is what we need.

They are called curb cuts.

And ramps.

Well, here we are.

I even designed a portable door assist device, by the way.

It is one of the innovations in Sahana’s Innovations Archive.

Because whoever thought heavy swing doors were an awesome way to keep people out, you were successful.

Can we have another go with people who actually live on this planet, please?

People with injured arms.

People carrying groceries.

People carrying kids.

People without enough strength.

Or maybe, just maybe, people who actually live on this planet and have real needs.

I realize I have gotten quite sharp in this writing of mine.

Somehow, I still feel dull.

Because someone can know what they need with precision and still not have the resources to meet those needs.

I am one of those people.

So what did I do with the ask to meet midway?

I didn’t continue the conversation.

I teared up.

I felt that old ache rise up in me.

The one that says, maybe this is the moment where I tell them the constraints and they walk away because dealing with me is too much.

So here I am.

Writing this instead.

And believe it or not, I am NOT too much.

I am in a world that makes me feel that so often instead of meeting me for me.

Dealing with me might not be “easy” or “worth it” for many people.

You know what is easy?

Thinking you know someone from their struggles or constraints.

You know what is worth it?

Opening a conversation enough to see how to meet them halfway, even if it is not physically halfway.

You know what?

I will return to the conversation and open that door, so I can see for myself.

I might not be easy.

I am very much worth asking to be met halfway.