<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8" standalone="yes"?><oembed><version><![CDATA[1.0]]></version><provider_name><![CDATA[Ballastexistenz]]></provider_name><provider_url><![CDATA[https://ballastexistenz.wordpress.com]]></provider_url><author_name><![CDATA[Mel Baggs]]></author_name><author_url><![CDATA[https://ballastexistenz.wordpress.com/author/ameliabaggs/]]></author_url><title><![CDATA[It&#8217;s strange to walk&nbsp;places.]]></title><type><![CDATA[link]]></type><html><![CDATA[<p>I walk to most places now.</p>
<p>It&#8217;s strange to not have to think about curb cuts, wheelchair-accessible bathrooms, and making sure that the nurse at my doctor&#8217;s office moves everything out of the way so I can back my powerchair into the room without bashing into things.</p>
<p>It&#8217;s strange to have to hunt around for chairs to sit down in.  Because just because I can walk, doesn&#8217;t mean I can stand indefinitely.  In fact, standing has always been harder than walking.  My cane helps signal to people that if I need to sit down, I need to sit down<i> fast</i>.</p>
<p>I am sure that the way I look to people has changed, but I have not yet been able to work out how.  In the past, I remember how people&#8217;s estimation of my cognitive abilities went <em>up</em> once I was in a powerchair full-time.  Because apparently I have some quality of my appearance that usually makes people underestimate me cognitively, but if I&#8217;m in a wheelchair, they can blame that quality on a physical impairment.  Now that I&#8217;m out of the chair, I wonder if I&#8217;ll be getting treated like a two-year-old more often again.  Or if enough has changed, that that won&#8217;t happen either.</p>
<p>I may be walking places, but my identity has not caught up with the idea of being a walking person.  I still imagine that I&#8217;m in a wheelchair.  Of course, I&#8217;m not fully out of the wheelchair, either.  I still use wheelchairs for distances I can&#8217;t manage yet.  But when I do walk, I still somehow imagine that I&#8217;m in a wheelchair, and I&#8217;m always surprised to find that I&#8217;m not.  Everything looks different when I walk, it&#8217;s all viewed from a different angle in more ways than one.  I&#8217;m still not used to it.</p>
<p>It&#8217;s not just a matter of identity, it&#8217;s a matter of perspective.  Literally the angles are different.  The places I can go are different.  The expectations I get from others are different, and not always what you&#8217;d expect.</p>
<p>And I feel like I haven&#8217;t quite caught up yet.</p>
<p>I also feel like very little about me has actually changed, and yet other people see a huge change because the categories of <em>full time power chair user</em> and <em>person who walks with a cane and may sometimes use a manual wheelchair</em> are so different in their minds. The equipment you use becomes how they see you, even other disabled people do this.</p>
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