How my perception of independence has changed over the years

Independence has meant something different to me throughout my life. As our lives change, so does our independence. When we’re growing up, it’s all about finding our feet. When we’re stepping into adulthood, it’s about standing on those two feet.

When it comes to disability, independence is rooted in us in more ways than you could imagine. It isn’t always as simple as adapting or flying the nest. It’s a complex system with many twists and turns.

My journey with independence hasn’t been a straightforward one.

Despite all the upheaval, it’s taught me some valuable lessons.

Looking back, my perception of independence has shifted significantly over the years. It’s much different now than what it used to be.

So I thought we could take a look at these shifts and how it’s all come together to form where I’m at now.

Time to do some reflecting, I think.

 

Being made to believe that I had to do everything on my own

All throughout my childhood I was told that I needed to be independent. No matter how hard I tried, it always felt like I wasn’t good enough.

In my first years of education, it was infused into me that being independent meant doing something entirely on my own.

If I needed to find my PE kit in the giant pile alongside my classmates kits, I should search until I found it.

When I wanted to check the time, I should use my talking clock, even in the middle of a quiet classroom.

If I needed a piece of work in braille, I should find a way of getting that done.

When navigating from classroom to classroom, I was told to navigate a particular way.

There’s of course a lot of truth in many of these. Using technology to do tasks we might not give a second thought like checking the time contributes to some invaluable life skills. Honing my mobility skills has changed my life in many ways.

 

When I look back, I felt like I was being pushed. Having friends and family supporting me in everything I do was what helped me thrive. The opposite to that was having unhelpful principles forced on me. That’s not the way to encourage independence.

If I didn’t do something myself, I was said to be lazy.

If I asked for support, I was told that I wasn’t trying hard enough.

If I asked to make sure I knew where my friends were in the playground, I was told that I shouldn’t be relying on others.

The reasoning behind these makes sense – I’m not entirely critical. I get that it was coming from good intentions. What it failed to recognise is how my independence was being set apart from that of my sighted peers. They didn’t seem to have the derogatory (although well-meaning) comments I did, and they weren’t being scrutinised.

That leads me nicely on to the next point…

 

Pushing away support

I started to think that being independent meant doing everything by yourself. I began to tell myself that asking other people for support was a sign of weakness. I thought others would think that I couldn’t do something because of my vision impairment, not because I needed a bit of help from time to time, in the same way that everyone does.

It soon became rooted in me that independence was doing something on my own, because asking for support meant that I was being a burden. There were of course people that wanted to help. My family and friends didn’t fit the dynamic of seeing me as the problem in any way, shape or form. They wanted to see me succeed, no matter what that looked like. They wanted to support me, whether that meant watching from the sidelines or helping me out.

The external factors told me that I didn’t want anyone to take pity on me, so my only option was to do it by myself. A stubbornness kicked in, telling me to say that I didn’t need any support. What it failed to recognised was that I was only making it harder for myself and those around me.

 

Combatting against this made me think that doing it by myself was proving that you could do something, when the world tells you that you can’t. I had to prove people wrong. If I didn’t prove my capabilities, then I’d be failing as a blind person.

When I was offered support, my automatic reaction was to politely decline. I needed to prove to people that I could do it on my own. In reality, that wasn’t the case at all.

 

As I got older, I of course wanted to do more on my own. It’s a natural part of growing up.

The wheels started to turn; suddenly, people were questioning whether I could. My mind went back to the earlier point, I had to prove them wrong.

Then there were the people who panicked when they were told that I didn’t need support, questioning how I’d manage.

All of that contributed to pushing support away.

I had to prove myself, I had to change their assumptions. I didn’t want to have my hand held. And I didn’t want to seem incapable.

How could I do that when people were questioning my capabilities?

So I set out to tackle those assumptions. In all honesty, proving people wrong was satisfying. It still is if I’m being honest.

 

The turning point

I don’t think there was an exact point when everything clicked into place. I cannot tell you how glad I am it did.

Finding what independence means to me has opened up a world of fulfilment and possibilities.

Now, I see independence as the exact opposite of what I’ve previously described.

Here’s where I’m at today.

 

It’s more than okay to utilise support

Everyone needs support from time to time. I wish I’d realised that sooner.

Asking for support isn’t a sign of weakness. You don’t need to go it alone 24/7. Whether at work, at home, or whatever it might be.

There’s power in leaning on others from time to time. Chances are, they’ll probably lean on you too.

Nowadays, for me, independence is all about asking for support when I need it. Perhaps most importantly, it’s about requesting support and not feeling guilty for it.

I’ve come to realise that there’s no point struggling on my own. It doesn’t get me anywhere.

I’m not asking for support because I’m lazy or incapable, I’m asking for support because I’m human.

Sometimes I’ll need it, sometimes I won’t.

 

Independence is about knowing my own needs. It’s about taking control of the support I receive. It’s about having it on my own terms, rather than feeling pressured to doing something a particular way.

It’s about asking for support when something isn’t accessible, rather than struggling on my own.

It’s about knowing that asking for help doesn’t make me a burden.

Independence is about knowing what I need, and advocating for those needs. It’s knowing that that support enables me, rather than disables me.

 

It’s about doing it my way

Independence isn’t linear. There’s no right or wrong way of being independent.

If someone does something a certain way, then that’s what works for them. It doesn’t mean to say that it’ll work for everyone else. Doing it my own way gives me autonomy. It’s the greatest independence of all.

I’ve learned not to feel guilty for doing what works for me, because the benefits far outweigh the negatives.

If I utilise support available to me, that’s okay.

If I make use of tools and technology that make it easier to complete a task, that’s okay.

If I go it alone, that’s okay.

Doing it my own way helps me to succeed. I’ve never been in a better position since I realised that.

 

Independence is about working out what works best for you.

It means asking for support without fear or judgement. It’s about people having the trust and belief in you to do it whatever way you feel is best.

Only you have the key to your own independence.

 

Has your perception of independence changed over the years? If so, what has that looked like for you? I’d love to know in the comments.

Holly x