I have commissions open if you want to help me earn money while my disability claim is being processed. I can only handle 3 slots right now due to school and energy, but the slots will reopen once I have my established commissions completed.

I need my chair. I need my wheelchair to get through life. Maybe one day I won't need it, but right now it's the best thing for me. And I wish I could get doctors to understand that.

I wish all doctors could realize that asking for a mobility aid is a patient's last resort, not the first. It's a desperate plea for help, not the lazy way out.

You don't struggle to get through life with a mobility aid the world isn't built around because it's fun. You do it because you need to.

But when I can't walk, my chair fills in that gap for me, lets me still participate without destroying my health again.

I wish that doctors could see that. I wish I didn't have to measure my worth in this world by my ability to hold down a job. I wish not destroying my body wasn't a moral failing.

Part of that is thanks to my chair. I can actually get outside, and because I have to push myself around I'm getting more exercise than before too.

When I can walk, I do. Mostly around the house where I can sit and rest as needed, but I walk for very short outings too. I like walking.

I don't have an income right now while I'm waiting for my disability claim to go through. The last of my savings are being used for copays, which will run out here in a few months. But my health has improved so drastically.

I would have starved more often than not without my spouse.

I'm only able to accomplish those things now because I don't have a job that destroys my body nearly every day. And even now, some days I have to skip one or more if I want to accomplish my necessary tasks for a day.

And when I left, I had already crashed hard. Could barely function, wasn't showering or brushing my teeth because I couldn't stand long enough to do so. I would sleep because of exhaustion but also because it was easier than dragging myself downstairs to make food.

Believe me, I want to work. I loved my job as a lifeguard supervisor. In fact I stayed far longer than I should have given my condition, far longer than was safe for myself and the swimmers. That's ultimately why I left even though I loved it; it wasn't safe for me or the patrons.

I'll have to call off more than other employees due to disproportionate exhaustion, I won't be able to go into work on sudden notice. I'll have to take more days off for appointments. Even if I was able to work in my chair, I would have to navigate a workplace not designed for me.

The best way to handle it is to accommodate the symptoms and work around them or with them.
And of course improving things like my sleep schedule and taking my meds regularly has helped a ton. But I can't work anymore, not for now at least.
If I do, I'll quickly become unreliable.

I have a great doctor. He listens to me and tries to help. But he's still a doctor who's been trained on the medical model for disabilities, which is to try and cure or eliminate the disability or it's symptoms.

But ME/CFS doesn't work like that. There is no cure.

The hurdles aren't worth it if the aid doesn't help, and that's how I gauge my need on any given day. I ask myself "would it be easier to struggle with the chair or walk where I need to." If it's easier to roll around obstacles and fight with doors than it is to walk, then it's a chair day.

I didn't get the wheelchair because I was lazy. In fact, there's more effort into navigating a world not meant for wheelchair users than it would be to walk, if I was able to.
But walking the distances necessary to accomplish my errands isn't feasible or safe for me. So I roll.

There may be days where my wheelchair isn't necessary for me, and I'm always pleased to have those days, but my wheelchair is still a necessity for me to have any life outside my house. I cannot stand for long periods without exhaustion hitting me, and walking is even worse.

ME/CFS is an ebb and flow chronic illness. Some days will be worse than others. I may go months without any major issues before crashing down so hard I can't make my own microwavable food.

My improvement is temporary, and I always have to watch my exertion.