My Throne of freedom and empowerment

Let’s talk about something that often goes unnoticed: wheelchairs aren’t just for broken bones or injuries you can see. For those of us living with chronic pain conditions like fibromyalgia, that little set of wheels can be a lifeline. It’s not just about getting from point A to point B; it’s about managing energy, minimizing pain, and making life a whole lot more bearable. #livinglifeagain

When most people think “wheelchair,” they picture someone with a very visible disability—maybe a spinal injury or something obvious. But for me, and many others, chronic pain is sneakier. My pain doesn’t always have a clear shape or size, but it’s very real. One day I can wake up feeling like I could walk a marathon (okay, maybe just a mile), and the next day, even standing in the kitchen feels like climbing Everest. The unpredictability can be exhausting, it can be confusing.

Fibromyalgia makes my muscles and joints feel like they've been through a rock concert mosh pit—without the concert. It’s a full-body rebellion that often comes with the bonus of fatigue that no amount of coffee can fix. Using a wheelchair is my trusty sidekick that steps in when my body taps out. It’s not about being lazy or “giving up” on walking; it’s about being smart and choosing my battles.

Living with fibromyalgia is a bit like when your phone hits 1% battery, and you suddenly become the most efficient multitasker in the world, prioritizing what’s most important. There’s a popular analogy called the Spoon Theory, which explains how I, and others with chronic illnesses, manage energy. Imagine I only get a handful of spoons to use each day, with each activity (showering, walking, texting) using one up. Spoiler alert: I run out quickly.

When I use my wheelchair, I’m not trying to avoid movement altogether; I’m saving those precious spoons for something fun, like brunch with friends, instead of wasting them on walking to get there. It’s about preserving energy for what matters most. Want to hit up the park or go to a concert? My wheelchair has my back—literally.

Here’s where things get tricky. People often think, “But if you can walk, why are you in a wheelchair?” Well, that’s like asking, “If you can run, why drive to work?” The answer? Because it’s practical, and honestly, who wants to walk everywhere when you can make things easier? For me, and others like me, wheelchairs aren’t about being stuck—they’re about freedom. It’s like having a VIP pass that lets me skip the struggle and join the fun without burning out.

Unfortunately, society has some outdated ideas about what disability “looks like.” Not all disabilities come with a neon sign, and it’s time we retire the assumption that wheelchairs are only for people who can’t walk at all. Chronic pain is sneaky, and sometimes, using a wheelchair means choosing to live a fuller life rather than being sidelined by pain.

For me, using a wheelchair isn’t a prison; it’s a fast pass to independence. Without it, I might be stuck at home, missing out on the things that make life exciting. But with my wheelchair, the world suddenly becomes more accessible. It’s not just a seat on wheels; it’s a ticket to social events, work, and even spontaneous park dates.

Picture this: without my wheelchair, a day out could mean exhaustion, pain, and maybe cutting the fun short. But with it? I can roll through the day like the boss I am, conserving energy and skipping the crash that would’ve hit me halfway through. It’s about reclaiming control in a world where chronic pain often tries to steal it.

In a world that often equates ability with physical prowess, it’s crucial to understand that not all disabilities are visible. Wheelchairs aren’t a sign of defeat; they’re a tool that gives me back my freedom. It’s like having a bike for a marathon I didn’t sign up for but have to run every day anyway.

The more we listen to those of us living with chronic pain, the more we can understand that using a wheelchair isn’t “cheating.” It’s about making life livable on our terms, and really, isn’t that what we’re all aiming for? So the next time you see someone rolling through life with their trusty wheelchair, give them a nod of respect. We’re out here using every tool we can to live our best lives, and that’s something worth celebrating.