Walk This Way: Through Spaces and Places

You have probably heard the phrase in some context or another that life is about the little things. For me, walking with CP, this idiom couldn't be more spot on. Navigating spaces and places is the hardest thing I do, apart from vision related things every day. 

As a kid, this came in the form of trip hazards and otherwise difficult obstacles. My approach at that time was to either work around or avoid certain situations and settings. But, what about when I couldn't avoid it? For instance, I grew up in a state with a lot of snow. Like many kids, I enjoyed going sledding. I had a pretty perfect spot for it, not too far from home. Now, I'd imagine it's hard enough for most people to climb up a snowy slippery hill in the middle of winter. Picture climbing up that hill when you barely have your feet under you on even ground. Navigating spaces and places, with the way I walk, has made even fun activities a chore, and that takes a lot of the fun out of it. 

Fast forward to high school, when your friends who can't drive yet want to go on an adventure. Translation, let's go for a several mile walk. I did a lot of these things. I wasn't one to shy away from every challenge, but I wasn't necessarily enjoying it the way my friends might have been. These kinds of activities have always come at a cost for me. Arguably, that's gotten even harder as I've gotten older. My body doesn't have the resilience it once did and it takes me longer to recover.

There's a little nuance that I haven't gotten to yet. At least, I haven't gotten to it clearly. I can do most things, if I'm willing and feeling up to it. I cannot do most things without having to think it through in great detail. Walking for me, is like driving a car for the average person, I have to pay attention to every detail in my surroundings. One patch of ice, one bump in the sidewalk, one tree root in the ground on the hiking trail, one misplaced step, or one uneven surface and I might be going down. I have fallen many times. Thankfully, I've never been severely hurt – oh wait, I take that back. There was this one time that I required surgery because of a fall. 

You might ask, what kind of fall would cause me to need surgery? An incredibly simple one. I was checking the mail. I caught my toe on a step, tried to catch myself, and put my arm through a freaking window. That required surgery and about six months of rehab. I still can't feel my fingers or at least not all of them. I was doing a daily activity. I got more hurt checking the mail that day than I did dangling upside down off the face of a rock cliff on a repelling trip. I was more hurt checking the mail that day than when I did a complete 180° flip after clipping a chunk of ice while skiing down a mountain. I'm incredibly fortunate and I was incredibly diligent in the process of putting myself back together after that fall. My point in this isn't to lament that I put my hand through a window, but to illustrate the simplicity of the activity that I was doing in contrast to the severity of the injury.

Even though I've spent my whole life mapping spaces when I walk anywhere, that particular incident is a reminder, even for me, that I have to pay attention all the time. I try not to be in a hurry physically because that's when things like that happen. I was running back into my house when I caught my foot on the step. I probably didn't want to check the mail because I had better things to do as a 20-year-old. I don't really remember, but I can tell you that to this day, I wish I had slowed down. 

When I'm in a crowded space, like a restaurant or some other public environment, I am doing so much mapping that it's not even funny. One of the things that happens to me frequently if I'm out and about with other people is that they are unaware of the fact that I'm doing this or they are unaware of the fact that I need more time to make a decision to move. Crossing streets is a great example of this. On more occasions than I can count, I've been with somebody crossing the street and they just start going, and I have to trust that they paid attention because I was not ready to go. Because I hadn't verified all of the obstacles, or oncoming traffic, etc. If you've ever gone on a walk with me, and thought I might not be listening to you while walking and having a conversation, this is why. I will not be 100% in that conversation unless I know exactly where I'm going, what's in front of me, and usually not until I'm sitting in front of you. If you add obstacles and elements to that, like ice, rocks, roots, bumps in the road, and so on, you can pretty much guarantee that I am focused on making sure I don't die. 

I lived in New York for a few years, not too far outside of the city, and this was one of the most difficult navigational experiences of my life. Every space you go into is cramped and usually tiny. Contrast that with where I grew up where most places you went to were kind of spacious. I do not enjoy the “cozy restaurant.” That's usually code for old, small, and compact spaces. I'm sorry, to a degree, to all of the people that I've ever been to a place like this with that are like, “Man why isn't he in a better mood?” If you combine my poor vision with that and make it a dark and cozy place, I am probably miserable. Why is that? Frankly, if I can't see where to walk, if I can't see where the steps are, if I can't see if someone's chair is too far out in the walkway, or whatever other obstacles there may be, it's not a space that's welcoming to me. Restaurants are not the only things that are like this. Conference halls and other events venues tend to have lots of chairs, tables and other things that I have to navigate around. I love open and clear spaces because it takes a lot of the stress out of the mapping process. I'm still mapping in open spaces too, but it's not as intense or exhausting. 

By far, the most difficult spaces for me are communal spaces. Unless there's a shared expectation that things will be put away in a specific way, it can make finding the balance of sharing the space and navigating safely very challenging for me. I don't want to trip over your things, but I also don't want to feel obligated to move them out of my way. The thing that's hard to ask of people is to maybe think about something ahead of time with me in mind. I don't want to be a burden to you, I don't want to divert you from the activity that you enjoy, but I want you to understand that there's a reason that I might be frustrated over going to a certain location, challenged by a certain activity, and longing to be understood when it comes to the state of the spaces and places I spend most of my time.

Thanks for tuning in for this edition of Cerebral Palsy and Intersectionality. If there's something you'd like to know more about, drop a question in the comments.