It’s not often that I’m made to feel disabled.

Objectively, I know I’m disabled. I was born with spastic cerebral palsy and I have relapse and remitting multiple sclerosis. Despite that, or because of the disabilities that I live with, I do a heck of a lot. I exercise, I walk, I swim. I paint, I write, I create. I’ve stopped trying to do things to prove to myself that I’m not disabled. Instead, I’m living my life and embracing my passions to prove to myself that I can do anything I want to do, regardless of the disabilities that I live with.

Sometimes though, there are reminders that come along to remind me there are certain boundaries and walls placed in front of me. I must decide how I’m going to surmount them or if the mountain in front of me is worth climbing or finding a way around it.

One of my paintings is hanging in a café as part of an exhibition. I’m honoured and so very proud to have something I created hanging on the walls of the café. I’ve been wanting to go and see the painting in the café for some time now and that was my focus for yesterday. I wanted to go and have a cup of coffee, surrounded by the beautiful art that is all part of the exhibition.

Instead, I was met with a mountain.

Well, it felt like a mountain when it was three stairs. I stood there starting at these steps trying to figure out how I would get up them. There was no railing nearby that I could use to pull myself up. I normally do okay with stairs as long as there is a railing. I find going up stairs challenging, but going down is worse. I find that most places are like this.

Looking at those stairs, I felt small and unseen.

As I stood there trying to figure out my path forward, a woman asked me if I needed help. “You can be my good deed for the day!”

I let her help me up the stairs while at the same time, I tried not to be offended. She said this with a huge smile and while I was glad for the help, I didn’t want to be anyone’s good deed. She could have just helped me without saying that I was a good deed. That made me feel dirty, as if her act of kindness had an ulterior motive.

Inside the café, there were more stairs that I had to get around, but these were manageable because I was able to support myself with the walls. I found my painting and it looked gorgeous surrounded by all the other beautiful art. I got myself a cold brew coffee and a banana brownie and sat at a table. I should have felt overjoyed at seeing my art on the walls of a café, but I didn’t feel joy at that moment. I just felt hollow, sad and unseen. When I set out to go to the café, I hadn’t expected to be met with an accessibility issue. I was able to take a couple of photos of my painting and knew that I wanted to go home. I was too upset to enjoy the coffee or the brownie.

I was able to make my way down the stairs at the entrance of the café by using the door as a support. I held on to the door with one hand and my cane in the other. I went home and realized that I was angry. It’s been a bit since I’ve been made to feel less then and as the day went on, I found myself getting angrier. I decided to paint in order to change the narrative of anger that ran through me and eventually, I chose to write a short message to the café, letting them know how I felt. What good is it to have a voice if I don’t use it to speak up and speak out?

I decided to write to the café and tell them what it was like for me to visit their establishment as a disabled person. I thought I would never hear back from them, I always assume the worst. However, I heard back from them this morning. In the message, the said that they heard me loud and clear, and that they would be seeing what they could do to make sure that the space is accessible for everyone.

I learned a few things during this whole experience. I learned not to sit and hold on to anger, that I have a voice, so I need to use it if I see an issue. Don’t respond in anger, that never solves anything. I’m glad that I took the time to paint something beautiful, using a negative situation as the impetus.

Ultimately, I used my voice to try and right a wrong and that has to count for something.