I know there are differing approaches to travel with pros and cons to all of them. I have always been a “get your money’s worth” sort of gal. I acknowledge that I am privileged enough to get to travel and experience the world, but it isn’t something that I can do frivolously or at the drop of a hat. It is a special event that is planned for and budgeted for. I can’t just fly to Paris on a whim for a weekend; traveling to a new place might just be my one and only chance to visit that place. That mindset has always pushed me to then when traveling feel like I must do ALL THE THINGS.
I know that there are philosophies of travel that differ from this approach on principle. That encourage people to just be in an area, relaxing, trying to live like the locals, and not stress about doing any of the typical touristy things. I see the appeal in that approach, but I also know that if I, for instance, am going to be in the city (Milan for example) where a work of art (Da Vinci’s The Last Supper) that I have studied and read about my whole life and that has shaped numerous cultural discussions then I will do whatever I can to go see that work of art. Those cultural stories hold meaning for me and getting to bear witness to that history and somewhat place myself as part of that story is something I value.
So, I was that person who overscheduled every trip. Who put in 20K+ steps each day. Who at Disneyworld would be there from rope drop to a dinner reservation starting 5 minutes before park closing. Who would visit the maximum number of sites allowed on the London City Pass card per day, then catch a West End musical in the evening. I’d sleep when I got home – travel was about the experience, and I wanted to experience all of them.
Then my body very abruptly said STOP. With travel, with life, with hobbies, with everything. Genetic disabilities from Marfan’s Syndrome and complications from multiple scoliosis back surgeries it had caused caught up with me and a surgery left me unable to use my left leg. The healing took time, and I never regained the mobility I had before. I was faced with a new normal that included a body that had more limits than I was used to and needed mobility aids to get around. And I struggled to comprehend how to be in the world under this new way of being.
At first, I fought it. I would push myself to do things under the belief that my life needed to go back to the way things were. But I would constantly push myself too far. And my body paid the price. Just because I was capable of pushing myself beyond my limits for one day did not mean my body could handle it long term. I would be in severe pain, not able to do basic functions for days after I pushed myself. If I kept trying to push through the pain, my body would fight back and in my weakened state I would get sick, catching every cold and virus I encountered it seemed. I was doing damage to myself just so I could do all my errands in one day, or walk nearly a mile to an event so we could get the cheap parking, or try to travel with just my cane.
I was not being kind to myself. I had bought into the lie that if I just tried harder I would get better. And I made myself miserable – both physically and emotionally in my attempt to do so. I love to travel, and so I attempted to travel like I used to – at a frenetic pace, overscheduling everything. I took trips where although I made use of wheelchairs in the airport, I only had a cane for navigating my destinations. So, I went to Las Vegas – instead of getting to fully enjoy the sites, I ended up sitting in a chair in the middle of Area15 while my companions got to explore. We took a bus then walked down the Strip to a Cirque de Soleil show and when I arrived, I was in so much pain and so dizzy from exhaustion that I could hardly pay attention to the show. I went to Tulum and wanted to visit the ruins, but by the time I did the walk to the main ruins area I was too exhausted to explore them and sat on a picnic bench outside to wait for my companions. I sat on a bench at the Tower of London and the British Museum. I spent the money to visit Meow Wolf in Santa Fe and saw maybe three rooms – the ones that had benches I could sit on. I thought that since I *could* walk with a cane (somewhat) that I had to at all times – but I was not actually experiencing the very things I had traveled (and paid) to see.
A metaphor I learned and have come to love (that speaks to be geeky heart) is based on the beloved show Star Trek. Viewers know that in times of crises when it is absolutely necessary the Starship Enterprise can travel at Warp 9 – but doing so puts severe strain on its systems. So, most of the time it travels at Warp 5 or 6 and only pushes itself when absolutely necessary. If it travelled at Warp 9 all the time it would put itself and its crew in danger. Just because a runner can beat every record on the 50 yard dash does not mean they are capable of sustaining that speed for a marathon or even the 100 yard dash. Just because I could as a one-time feat push myself for a longer walk or activity, does not mean that my body with all its nerve and circulatory damage is capable of doing that everyday (or should ever if I am honest.)
I was living and traveling under an outdated paradigm, and I needed to shift. I needed to accept the new me and get over my internalized ablism. I needed to accept that using mobility aids was not a failure, but a path to freedom. If attending an event or location using just my cane causes me to be limited later or too much in pain or exhaustion to enjoy the event, then I can’t really say that I am capable of doing that thing with just a cane. That is not ability that is self-harm. I need to embrace that to care for my body – not just in the moment, but wholistically – I need to use my rollator or wheelchair. I needed to get over my guilt of causing others the hassle of accommodating my wheelchair when I *might* have been able to navigate a particular thing with just my cane (but then paid for it later in some way).
Learning to be kind to myself meant accepting that I am worth enjoying myself and not being in (much) pain. That any hassle or extra work my mobility aid causes is justified for me to live fully in the moment. That travel might look different for me now, but is still something I can enjoy and actually participate in (without just sitting on a bench not seeing anything). Yes, it takes a different kind of work (researching accessible travel takes time) but it permits me to enter into those experiences and stories that I always loved about travel.
So, I encourage you to be kind to yourself. Know the limits of your body, but don’t be afraid to care for yourself. You are worth it. You deserve to enjoy your life as best you can, it just might take some creativity or overcoming personal demons to get yourself there.
