Defining my own limits

I often hear others discussing people with disabilities and the vision they have of us living beyond our limits. Implying that having limitations is a bad thing or makes us lesser than.

Everyone has limits. I accept and acknowledge that I have limits. That feels like an authentic way for me to live.

Some days my limits look quite different than other days, depending on my body that day. My body calls the shots each day, and I have learned to lean into that rather than fight against it. It is not always easy, but a much more peaceful way to live.

The problem with limits, from my perspective, is that limits are not something that others should impose through their assumptions. Often those of us with disabilities are categorized and our limits presented to us instead of the other way around.

I cannot tell you how many times that has happened to me during my lifetime. Others defining my limits, but at the same time expecting me to consistently go above and beyond those limits? It is a strange thing.

Last week, I went on a vacation with my family to celebrate our oldest son’s graduation and just spend some quality time together.

The airport is always a coin toss. Depending on who you get working with you, the experience can be a positive one, or a difficult one as a person with a disability.

Going through security is always interesting. I am usually asked if I want to get out of my chair and walk through the security scanner or opt to stay in my chair and get an extremely thorough pat-down. That day I felt I could walk through, so I told the TSA agent that I would get out and walk, if someone could help me into the scanner.

The next thing I knew, she was announcing to everyone within earshot, “she’s a big girl today, she’s going to get out and walk.” It took me a second to process what she had said, but fear not, I did not have to wonder long because she loudly announced to anyone listening again, that I was indeed a big girl because I was getting out of my wheelchair to walk through the body scanner.

Just what I wanted. All eyes on me as I awkwardly made my way out of my chair and through the scanner.

My shock was temporarily drowned out by the chaos of the security area. Once I made it through and got my chair back, I had time to really think about what happened. I did not understand it at all. I was trying to see something positive out of what she said in some way, but there was no way for me. I felt embarrassed and diminished. I felt sad that my trip began on that note.

I talked briefly with my husband about what had happened, and then I decided to let it go. This is something a few years ago that I would not have been able to release so quickly and would have shed a few tears over it. I have learned that as much as I can, I do not want to ruminate on the ignorance of others.

It is a waste of my time and energy. I do not want to stuff it down but process it quickly and see it for what it really was.

Traveling with a disability adds a layer of learning at every turn. Expect the unexpected.

Limits are human and always evolving. Be confident in your limits and your abilities.

Until next time …

Amy Shinneman is a former National Ambassador for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, disability blogger, freelance writer, wife, and mom of two boys. She is the recipient of the Reporter’s Winter 2025 Ink-Stained Wretch award. You can find her blog at humblycourageous.com and reach her on Instagram @ashinneman.