Invited Somewhere: An Ongoing Trauma

I am often being invited out to establishments, businesses or motels, hotels and other buildings for drinks, dinner with colleagues, travelling, a celebration evening, a conference, a new restaurant or an unknown café. As a person who uses a wheelchair for mobility, the invite automatically increases my anxiety and my head initiates a weird process. My mind suddenly enters a realm of pure panic and feelings of an inevitable explosion. My mind implements the creation of a badly designed mind map that has all the what ifs and the fears swirling around a pivotal point of whether I say yes or no.

After I have received the invitation, before confirming or declining my attendance, I find myself ringing the venue, checking maps for parking and the contour of the land and working out timings to get there to give me the freedom to stretch out before having to sit for the next few hours in my wheelchair. It is quite exhausting, yet I do this for my own peace of mind. Even after doing all of this and even after completing my vast repertoire of due diligence on the venue, the event and sometimes the other participants, things go wrong.

I have had far too many experiences that have found me unable to get into a restaurant or being embarrassed for the whole party having to move or change tables or rooms. I have found myself leaving within minutes of arriving because I just could not get into where I needed to be. I have been taken through kitchens and on service lifts to get to a table that the other invitees have reached by walking up three steps and through the front door. Then there are the times which are probably the hardest situation and the one that I struggle with the most when I find myself sitting, smiling and pretending not to be uncomfortable whilst praying the clock starts spinning at warp speed.

Why do I sit, smile and pray? Well, because in my mind and because of my understanding of what should occur, I will be the one that is not making a fuss or being an inconvenience. It allows me to feel like I am not embarrassing the people responsible for the event, the venue for not being accessible and the others in the group or even myself. As I sit there feeling horrible, annoyed and frustrated, it allows me to know that I am not the one who is causing others to feel guilt or shame. There are no bad feelings to be had by anyone.

Ok so here is where I am going to attempt to be brutally honest. That should read "there are no bad feelings to be had by anyone ELSE."

The reality is that I will be there sitting and smiling, but internally I, the disabled person, am feeling sad, hurt and beating MYSELF up for having allowed someone else to have the responsibility to ensure my needs are met. I am the one feeling ashamed of having the disability that has been forgotten about or perhaps overlooked, hating myself for trusting others or for my obviously poor skills or my complete oversight of correctly scouting out the venue. I continually place undeserved pressure on myself to work out an escape plan or an evacuation procedure where I am not a blubbering mess and all the while ensuring that no one else ends up feeling crap like I do when I eventually gain the courage to gap it or remove myself for the sake of my own mental health.

For me, these situations highlight the general lack of understanding of disability access needs. It can show the aptitude and attitude of true inclusion. It shines a light on just how disabling the environment can be. Finally, it also points out like a slap in the face that I have a disability.

Embarrassed, tired and fed up, I take myself home to cry myself to sleep knowing that in the morning I will have to view the group chat or email thread of what an awesome night everyone had and how it was so good spending time getting to know each other better. The camaraderie that has formed within the group, the bonds enhanced and the fun had all excluded me because I have a disability.

One thing that I find hard to understand is that following whatever has occurred, even though I may get one person or on occasion two reach out to me via text or message who will say "that should never happen" or "we need to do better" and sometimes, which can often come as a shock to me, will ask me if I am OK. I find it peculiar that these enquiries never happened BEFORE I have initiated the first contact. I am usually the first to send out a message to the group. I send a message where I find myself apologising to everyone for my hasty departure or lack of attendance, reiterating like in a Dear John Letter that it was me and not you.

Only then do I get a token gesture of "man that was not good" or "I am sorry you couldn't stay" usually followed by a reminder of what a great night was had by everyone. Well, everyone for whom steps, high tables or literally not being able to move around the venue because of the lack of space is just simply not an issue.

I struggle with an automatic and ingrained need that I have to apologise. My apology eases everyone else's discomfort about the whole situation. Although I admit that I am making a huge assumption that they are feeling discomfort. I am assuming from the lack of discussion that it is something they are uncomfortable talking about. Perhaps I have that part wrong, but then that would bring up a whole new set of complicated feelings as the opposite is that they don't care or it hasn't even crossed their minds. Anyway, my apology is to comfort them regarding the exact same situation that made me so uncomfortable that it was me that had to leave. Ironic? Stupid of me? Or simply it is what it is?

Then more dread hits me when I realise that I will probably have to face the group again at some point in class next week, at work on Monday or at another function in a month’s time. It is usually never long enough for all of them to have forgotten the event. It is possibly not long enough for my feelings to have been worked through and never far enough out that I can feel comfortable in their presence. There is inevitably a big neon pink and purple elephant sitting there with all its bling and sparkles shining bright, watching us all dance around whether I should, do or could say something about it. But because it is more comfortable for everyone, nothing is said.

I continue to say that I find it interesting because it does intrigue me how people can be a part of an experience, outing or situation where a disabled person is excluded and feels the need to either not attend in the first place or have to leave because of the situation, and yet it is so quickly brushed aside as a choice that the disabled person made. It is treated as a tiny moment or a blip that is so easily forgotten or moved past. On the flip side of that coin is me, the disabled person, for whom the experience will sit for days, weeks and even months. It plays over in my head and I have so many unanswered questions.

How does this still happen? How does everyone there really feel about it? Did they even give it a second thought after I left or was it just something that happened? Or is there some form of upset but it is pushed aside on the way to the bar to grab another drink? How is this just accepted within our society? Why are basic access needs like access into a building or bathroom, equity and inclusion still not being met? What is the thought process about people needing accessible access when building and designing new spaces? How is exclusion ok? Where is society's awareness of a person's needs and dare I say feelings? How are dietary requirements a normal question to ask yet access needs are often still not enquired about? Why is no one willing to, in the moment including me, say hey this is NOT OK and then take the next step to create a solution to the issue in the moment? How is it that "we will do better next time" is a solution to the current experience?

I am not sure of any answers, which is why I continue to ask questions. What I am certain about is that if it was not me at the centre of the experience, I would at least have some things I could do. First and foremost, I would have involved the individual in the selection of the venue so these issues hadn't even occurred. If I was part of the wider group, I would have reached out to the person immediately to check in. Actually, I would have probably left with them. I would be furious on their behalf and demanded some culture or sensitivity training for everyone involved. But instead I sit with the trauma and make a small promise to myself that I inherently know I will not be able to keep that I cannot allow this to happen again.