I decided over a few months ago that I would not fight my RSD. I decided that I would not make my body a war ground. I would not battle against my nerves and my muscles and my joints. I would not try to overpower pain through sheer force of will. I decided I would work with my body instead.
That decision did not come from giving up. It came from being tired of treating every day like a contest I could only lose. Fighting sounds strong, but for me it often meant pushing too far, hurting more, and then paying for it later. Working with my body has meant paying attention, pacing, and accepting that chronic pain changes what is possible and how I get things done.
When the environment forces the fight
Even after deciding I did not want to fight my body anymore, the world around me kept trying to drag me back into that fight.
Winter was one of the worst examples. Snow and ice made getting around far more difficult, and campus routes that were already frustrating became exhausting and painful. There is a difference between living with a condition and being forced into a daily struggle because the environment is inaccessible. A body in pain is one thing. A body in pain trying to move through blocked, icy, poorly planned spaces is another.
That is one reason accessibility matters so much. Better routes, cleared paths, ramps, and practical design choices do not erase disability, but they can stop the environment from making it worse.
Physical therapy
For a while, physical therapy was wrapped up in that same idea of fighting. Keep going. Keep pushing. Improvement is just around the corner.
Sometimes that message helps. Sometimes it does not.
For me, there came a point where the whole process felt less helpful than everyone promised it would be. I was surrounded by people who seemed to believe that if I just kept trying hard enough, things would finally click into place. Meanwhile, I was the one living in my body, dealing with the pain, and feeling the difference between effort that helped and effort that simply drained me.
Watching other people improve while feeling stuck in the same place can be discouraging. So can hearing optimism repeated back to you when your actual experience tells a different story. At some point, I had to be honest with myself. I did not want every part of my life to be organized around trying to defeat something that was not being defeated.
New chair
One of the biggest changes came with getting a better wheelchair.
The right chair did not make me less independent. It made life more possible. A chair that fit me better and worked better with my body changed the way I moved through the world. It reduced some of the constant negotiation, strain, and frustration that came with using equipment that was not right for me.
That is what good assistive equipment should do. It should help make daily life more manageable. It should reduce unnecessary pain and effort. It should support the person using it instead of becoming one more thing to battle.
Our accessible apartment living article and wheelchair independence article speak to that same truth from different angles: access and equipment matter because they make real independence possible.
Negotiating instead of fighting
With this assistive equipment, I can accept the chronic pain without pretending it is not there. I can make decisions based on what my body is telling me instead of what other people think determination should look like.
I do not see that as surrender.
I see it as being practical. I see it as choosing a way of living that leaves room for energy, movement, and some measure of peace. There are enough things in life worth fighting for. My body does not have to be one of them.
I refuse to fight my RSD. I much prefer negotiating in this instance.
For broader disability rights and accessibility guidance, the ADA homepage and the W3C Web Accessibility Initiative are useful starting points.