With the right access, everyone can enjoy the outdoors. We might need to do things a little bit differently, but it doesn’t make our time spent outdoors any less valuable.

The hard part is not pushing through. The hard part is slowing down.

Sometimes my adventures look like the happy, smiling photos I usually share on here, and sometimes my adventures look like this.

A list of my must have items, favorite brands, and most helpful features in outdoor gear for adventuring with my illnesses and disabilities.

Our limitations may look different and we may require a little extra planning and recovery time, but if we take the right steps to support our bodies, we can still enjoy being in nature.

A Guide for Chronically Ill and Disabled Folks

The biomedical model’s limitations, combined with its influence on our society, has led to extensive consequences for the patients whose cases fall outside of its narrow scope.

It can be difficult to find reliable or easy-to-read information about my illness, so in this blog post I put together a quick introduction into what CIRS is, how it is diagnosed, and how it is treated.

When people see me outdoors, I want them to know: disability does not mean inability. Just like some non-disabled people want to explore the outdoors, some disabled people want to explore the outdoors too!

I learned the hard way that sexism is still common in the medical world: the myth of “female hysteria” remains pervasive, women’s pain is often dismissed, and to some doctors, the only thing that matters is a woman’s fertility.

We need to learn to resist the urge to offer unsolicited and oversimplified medical advice for complex, incurable, chronic medical conditions.

In a world full of ableism, choose to be an Anna.

This body is strong. It is powerful, resilient and unstoppable. It is capable. It has gotten me through hell, and it is now getting me through the journey back.

I don’t have a body. I have an amorphous blob of pain floating somewhere beneath my head. It hurts so loud that my ears are ringing. An orchestra of nerve endings vibrating in excruciating symphony.

I don’t want to be pitied and I don’t want to be an inspiration, but those seem to be the only two categories in which people with disabilities are placed.

Severe illness can be traumatic, both for the person experiencing it, and the person who is forced to watch their loved one suffer.

Here, I offer a summary of my 15 years with MALS, Endo, CIRS, and cPTSD. It has been, as Francis Weller calls it, a rough initiation.

This account is a love letter to the younger me and anybody else who needs to hear this: It won't always feel like this. It is possible to enjoy the outdoors with disabilities. And every life has value, no matter its challenges.