Change can be terrifying. I think this is resonant and true across all walks of life. As a disabled person, I find things changing around and within me constantly, but I often forget that there are so many others going through the exact same things.

Recently, I was reminded of that fact after a moment of human connection that sparked a resonant viral Twitter thread , and it started in the womens bathroom at a movie theater. As a younger person with mobility aids, Im often stared at. I am frequently approached by strangers with invasive questions, and Ive learned to brace myself when someone approaches me, which is what happened while I was standing in line for the accessible stall. I saw her out of the corner of my eye, an older woman leaving the line and coming towards me. I went through all the possible uncomfortable things that could possibly be about to happen until she stopped in front of me.

She paused. And then she asked, How long have you been using a cane? Not the question I was expecting. Almost 10 years, I hesitantly replied.

And then she looked me in the eye and said, Was it hard?

We often expect elders to know better than us, to have more experience and answers than us, and I looked at this woman and I recognized fear, vulnerability, waiting to be rebuffed. And I knew exactly what she was asking. She was in the same place I was eight years ago, just before I started using my cane. She wanted to know if she was alone. She wanted reassurance.

Yeah. It was terrifying, I told her. It took face planting in a Walmart parking lot for me to accept that I needed help, and even then it was hard.

We ended up talking for a good several minutes, just standing by the sinks. She told me about her instability and vertigo, how it was mortifying and scary to have to ask strangers for help, but even worse to admit that she needed to make a change. I think thats something that almost all people who use mobility aids can relate to, regardless of how old they are. Choosing to move forwards with a mobility aid a wheelchair, walker, cane or crutches is a moment of intense vulnerability. Its stepping off of a precipice and not knowing whats going to happen. Do I leap? Do I fall? Who do I become now? How will this change me?

I have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. I struggle with joint dislocation and chronic pain, among other symptoms, and I started using a cane at age 19 or 20. I started using a wheelchair off and on at 21. Im now 28, and Im still making changes and adjustments to the way I interact with the world to accommodate my needs. In the beginning I fought it tooth and nail, telling myself, Its not that bad. Im not that disabled. But I was. I am. I remember so vividly that night in the parking lot, with my mouth full of gravel and pavement. That was the moment I realized something needed to give. I picked myself up, and I walked into that store, and I bought my first cane then and there. I still have that cane.