When I'm alone in my house, I always feel more hopeful about my future. I'm able to think and tinker without someone looking over my shoulder asking me what I'm doing. But when the front door opens and I'm no longer inside my fictional life, I'm reminded I'm a 34-year-old person with a disability who's been housebound since 26, and that the path to independence is far more winding than I try to imagine when I'm alone.
I know I'm not the only one with these obstacles. And I know I have a shorter path to independence than many more like me. We all deserve to have a life to call our own, whatever that looks like.