Montego Bay Meditations: How I Got Here - First Solo Trip with a Disability
- Melanin Mental Health and Wellness
- May 10
- 5 min read
Updated: 10 hours ago
Spoiler alert: I made it to Jamaica. Alone. Disabled. And absolutely triumphant.
Traveling solo is a leap of faith for anyone—but when you live with a disability, it can feel more like a tightrope walk with no net. My Mother’s Day getaway to Montego Bay was more than a vacation. It was a declaration: that despite neuropathy, fatigue, and a world built for the able-bodied, I deserve joy, adventure, and rest too.
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This post isn’t just about the miles I traveled—it’s about the mindset I had to grow into. It’s about learning to ask for help, making peace with my limits, and choosing grace over grit.
This is the second installment in my Montego Bay Meditations series—reflections from a much needed solo trip where I’ve been rethinking motherhood, healing, and the way I move through the world. If you’ve ever wondered how to hold strength and softness at the same time, this one’s for you.
Riding the Waves: Traveling with a Disability
Imagine setting out on a beautiful ocean journey. But instead of a cruise ship, you’ve got a rowboat. The sun is shining, the breeze is warm—but every mile takes muscle and mindset. That’s what travel is like for many people with disabilities: beautiful, but exhausting. Take a trip with me as I share the mental and emotional terrain of my recent solo trip—from unexpected flare-ups to moments of grace—and share insights on why accessible travel matters for mental health.
1. Parking Decks and Pain: When Every Step Feels Like a Marathon
Arriving at the airport, my plan was simple: park close with my handicap decal and glide into the terminal. But reality? All accessible spots were full. This moment highlights a frustrating truth: "accessible" isn't always truly accessible. I had to drive up to the third level of the parking deck, adding an unexpected obstacle to an already taxing journey. You don’t know how far "just a quick walk from the elevator" really is until your legs are tingling with neuropathy and the handicap spots are full. That’s how my trip began: on the third floor of a parking garage, trying to ignore the numbness creeping through my limbs. I was able to walk, but it was bordering on laborous.
Why it matters: According to the CDC, over 1 in 4 adults in the U.S. live with some form of disability. For many of us, mobility is unpredictable—even on the best days.
Pro Tip: Always build in extra time at airports, and if you're flying solo, don’t hesitate to call ahead for mobility assistance.
2. Swallowing Pride, Gaining Peace: The Power of Asking for Help
I spotted wheelchairs sitting near the elevator entrance and hesitated. I had never used one solo before. But given the distance to the terminal and the pain setting into my legs, I made the call to use it. I soon realized that upper body strength is not my superpower and the pain in my arms quickly reminded me of my limits. As I rolled myself through the parking garage, arms aching and legs tingling from neuropathy, I wondered if I’d made a mistake. But something in me refused to turn back.
I didn’t consider this a moment of failure. It was a moment of truth. Disability requires us to be hyperaware of our limits, and sometimes those limits mean letting go of independence in favor of support. I humbled myself and asked for wheelchair assistance at the terminal—and that decision changed everything. The staff didn’t hesitate. They loaded my luggage, offered me a smile, and wheeled me through security. Suddenly, the journey became lighter, smoother, my anxiety dipped, and I could breathe. I realized this trip wasn’t just about getting to Jamaica. It was about learning to show up for myself, disability and all.
Pro Tip: Know your limits and ask for help. Airport staff are trained to assist, and they want to help you. Pride doesn't get you to the gate. Support does. Also, request airport assistance in advance. It can be as simple as clicking a checkbox when booking your ticket.
"Independence is not doing things by yourself; it's being in control of how things are done."
- Judith Heumann, disabiity rights activist
3. Boarding Gracefully: When a Stranger’s Kindness Lifts the Weight
At the boarding gate, they called for passengers with disabilities. I hesitated to board early and almost didn’t get up. It felt strange to claim a space that, while technically mine, I often avoid out of discomfort. But then something unexpected happened: a young disabled veteran stood beside me, smiled, and insisted I go ahead of him. In that instant, something shifted. His small act of kindness helped me embrace my identity with more dignity. Disability is not just a label—it's a lived experience, and honoring it isn’t weakness. It's truth.
Why it matters: Recognizing and using disability accommodations isn't about taking advantage—it's about honoring your needs.
Pro Tip: Don’t wait for permission. If you’re eligible for pre-boarding or other accommodations, take them. You deserve ease just like anyone else.
4. Arrival Awareness: Ableism Is Everywhere—But So Is Support During a Solo Trip with a Disability
As the plane landed in Jamaica and a staff member cheerfully called my name for wheelchair pickup, I was surprised to feel gratitude, not shame. This time, I accepted the ride with no awkwardness. As I was wheeled through customs and to my shuttle, I watched people move effortlessly around me—rushing, walking, lugging bags—while I navigated the world with support.
It opened my eyes to how deeply our environments favor the able-bodied. Even in a tropical paradise, ableism persists. From uneven sidewalks to inaccessible transit, you become more aware of how much the world expects you to conform to it instead of the other way around.
Mental Toll: Ableism—intentional or not—can wear down even the most resilient spirits. Constantly having to justify your needs or adapt to obstacles impacts confidence and self-worth.
Why it matters: According to the CDC, adults with disabilities are nearly five times more likely to experience frequent mental distress than those without. And yet, leisure activities—especially travel—have been shown to significantly reduce stress and psychological strain and provide a greater sense of autonomy.
Pro Tip: Research your destination’s accessibility options ahead of time. Websites like WheelchairTravel.org or the AccessNow app can help.
5. Destination: Accomplishment
When I finally arrived at my resort, I felt something bigger than relaxation. I felt accomplished. I had navigated pain, pride, people, and planes—and I made it. My solo trip wasn't just about Jamaica. It was about reclaiming the parts of me I thought were lost to disability.
Pro Tip: Document your wins—big and small. Whether it’s a journal, a photo, or a blog post (hi there!), celebrating your journey reinforces your strength.
To everyone with a disability dreaming of travel: don’t let fear or inaccessibility steal your joy. Yes, the journey might be harder. Yes, you might need help. But the world is still yours to explore. And every time you take that solo trip with a disability, you make it a little easier for the next person.
Remember: You are not disabled. You are a person with a disability—and you are allowed to live boldly.
Written by Carlita L. Coley, LPC
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About the Author
I’m Carlita L. Coley. Living with a Multiple Sclerosis, I try to bring a deeply personal lens to my writing—sharing candid reflections on health, travel, and self-discovery. With a passion for storytelling that inspires and empowers, I hope to normalize disability and remind others that joy is still possible—even on the hardest days. When I’m not running (and minding) my business or blogging about life’s journeys, you can find me near some water, planning the next adventure.
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