If you’ve ever felt embarrassed to use a cane, walker, or scooter because of your age or how “healthy” you look—you are not alone. This week, we’re breaking down the shame, judgment, and internalized ableism around mobility aids. I share my own experience using a rollator for the first time, plus tips and encouragement for anyone on the edge of making that decision. Because choosing support isn’t giving up—it’s choosing more life.

Memorable Quotes:

“Would you rather suffer in silence—or show up for your life?”“You are allowed to prioritize your joy, even if it makes others uncomfortable.”“Using a mobility aid isn’t giving up. It’s choosing more presence, more experiences, more life.” Links: The Unseen Sisterhood newsletter – Join for weekly encouragement and real talk. Contact Page – To share your story or first mobility aid moment. My Favorite Mobility Aids: Cane Rollator

TRANSCRIPTION

Welcome back to The Invisible Illness Club Podcast.

If you’re here today because you’re wrestling with whether or not to start using a mobility aid… this is the right episode for you.

I saw a comment in one of my chronic illness Facebook groups recently that just stopped me in my tracks. It said:

“I feel like I’m to the point that I need a mobility aid so I can actually go out and do things with my 3-year-old. I’m just so embarrassed and I know I shouldn’t be, but I am. I know people will judge since I’m so young. But I have to live my life. At this point, I’m just surviving—I’m not living at all.”

That hit me right in the gut. It made me sad for this person who is just trying to be a good mom. And if you’ve ever felt that tension—between what your body needs and what society expects—you get it.

So that’s what we’re talking about today:

Using mobility aids as a “younger”, non elderly person. The shame. The judgment. The freedom. The power.

Somewhere along the way, we got taught that mobility aids are only for people over 80 or people in visible distress. That if you’re young and walking with a cane, or sitting in a wheelchair at the zoo with your toddler… people are going to think you’re faking it. Or being dramatic. Or lazy.

And that’s ableism, plain and simple. Internalized and external.

We see it when strangers give us the side-eye at the store.

We feel it when we avoid using the cart scooter even though we know it’ll save us a pain flare.

We hear it in our own minds when we whisper, “I don’t want to look weak.”

But let me ask you something:

Would you rather suffer in silence—or show up for your life?

Because using a mobility aid isn’t giving up.

It’s actually choosing more:

More presence.

More experiences.

More life.

Let’s get real—people will stare. Some will judge. And you know what? That says everything about them and nothing about you.

You don’t owe anyone an explanation. Not about your illness. Not about your body. Not about the devices that help you get through the day.

I’ll be honest—this is something I’ve been walking through too. I recently bought a rollator. And y’all, the first few times I used it… I felt so awkward. I caught myself looking around, wondering who was watching. Wondering what they were thinking.

But I also knew this: without it, I couldn’t walk far without feeling faint or unstable. I needed support. And the rollator gave me that.

It wasn’t about giving up. It was about giving myself a chance to actually participate in my life—whether that meant going to an event, running errands, or even just walking through the parking lot without worrying I’d have to sit down halfway through.

If a mobility aid helps you take your kid to the park…

If it helps you enjoy Target instead of limping out in tears…

If it helps you feel like you again, just a little bit…

Then screw the stares.

Let them wonder. Let them assume. Let them be uncomfortable.

Because while they’re busy being confused or judgy, you’re out there living.

I want to give you permission right now. Not that you need it, but sometimes it helps to hear:

You are allowed to choose what supports you.

You are allowed to prioritize your joy, even if it makes others uncomfortable.

You are allowed to live outside the expectations that don’t fit your life anymore.

And maybe the cane feels awkward at first. Maybe the walker feels like a betrayal. But what if it’s not?

What if it’s your ticket back to life?

You don’t have to wait until you’re completely immobile or totally desperate to say: “Hey, I want more than just surviving.”

If you’re on the edge, wondering how to actually do this—here are a few things that might help:

•Start small: Try your aid somewhere safe, like the grocery store with a friend, or even just around the block.

•Pick something that makes you feel cute: Mobility aids don’t have to be ugly. There are so many stylish canes, fun stickers for walkers, cute seat cushions. (And if you want a roundup, let me know—I’ll share my faves.)

•Remind yourself: your energy is precious. You’re not wasting it trying to impress strangers anymore. You’re saving it for your people. For your life.

So if you’ve been holding back, thinking “I’m too young for this”… I want you to know:

You’re not too young.

You’re not giving up.

You’re not broken.

You’re choosing to live. And that is brave as hell.

If this episode hit home for you, I would love to hear your story. Send me a DM or email me through The Invisible Illness Club website. And hey—if you’ve already crossed this bridge, share your first mobility aid moment. What did it feel like? What helped?

Let’s normalize this. Let’s take the shame off it.

And if you’re not already part of The Unseen Sisterhood—our weekly email full of stories, tips, and real talk—go sign up. You don’t have to do this alone.