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You Might Think I Need Help, but I Don’t

Ryan is shown in a hospital room wearing a white cap.

By Ryan Wilson

Team Trust, CEO

Because I have a disability, I think people assume I need help with everything.

They may think I need help with everyday tasks, and require a whole staff of personal assistants (PAs) to fill my needs.

This was the case for about 24 years of my life, but not any more.

I used to have a staff of about eight PAs in college, and I had an aid in elementary, junior and high schools to help me navigate crowded hallways and carry books.

I even had PAs up until the pandemic hit, and then the world shut down.

My PAs were all college students, and they were gone indefinitely. 

I had three options:

Stay with my parents for the duration of the pandemic;

Scramble to find any human being who would help me;

Forge ahead independently without any PAs.

I chose option 3, perhaps the riskiest of the three options.

While I had no help, I did have athlete friends with disabilities who led independent lives. 

They didn’t have PAs, and it seemed, with my increasing strength, I didn’t need PAs, either.

When I did have PAs, I carefully tested my strength and independence.

Could I cook without burning my home down? Yes.

Could I do laundry independently? Yes.

Could I transfer into the shower independently? Yes.

Turns out, I didn’t need PAs at all.

While this Is not universal for all persons with disabilities, it is one dose of a small, yet large achievement anybody with a disability has.

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How Trust Is Life or Death For Persons with Disabilities

Ryan Wilson poses with two occupational therapists in a hospital room.

By Ryan Wilson,

Team Trust, CEO

I am led to believe some persons with disabilities might have a more critical take on trust.

There are times when we have to rely on people, even strangers, to help us with very personal tasks, and I think we are all probably well aware of the inherent risks of such a level of trust.

When I transitioned to college, I, truthfully, had not spent much time away from my parents.

My mom and dad were always by my side, making sure I was safe and secure.

That was not the case when I lived in a dorm.

Mom and dad were an hour and a half away, and I had to immediately learn how to tell complete strangers how to lift me out of my wheelchair.

If they dropped me, I could break many, many bones.

So it was kind of a life-or-death situation.

This is not a rare scenario for a portion of persons with disabilities, especially if you have fragile bones like I do, but it does open our eyes to what really matters:

Trust. Security. Safety.

If I don’t trust you, you aren’t lifting me.

And if you don’t trust you, you aren’t lifting me.

Regardless of how physically strong you are.

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Ryan: Why My Shaq-Sized Wish Changed

A young Ryan is pictured with Shaquille O'Neal

I grew up in the middle of central Illinois.

It seemed I was the only disabled kid in the entire county, although that is not statistically accurate.

I was a huge Shaquille O’Neal fan.

He was my guy, my hero.

Super big, relatable and kind of funny.

I watched every NBA game with Shaq, and I dreamt of playing alongside Shaq, winning NBA titles like never before.

But, as I watched his games, I saw something that dimmed my Shaq-sized dreams.

It was the commercials of kids who looked like me, and even had my disability.

They were always shown in hospitals, wrapped in bandages like a mummy, plugged into a number of devices, and surrounded by friends and family as if the end was near.

Honestly, I know what it’s like to be that kid in the hospital

I did not need or want to see reminders of my days in the hospital.

Rather, what I needed as a kid was to see kids who looked like me living the dream I had.

Playing basketball.

And winning.

After developing personal relationships with many Paralympic athletes in the U.S. and around the world, I realized disabled people can play basketball, and we can win a lot.

A woman is shown pushing her black wheelchair racing chair.
When I spent time with Paralympic athletes, like Amanda McGrory (shown), my perspective on my own dreams changed

That’s why I created Team Trust: to show — and prove — that disabled people, sure, endure some challenges, but we also have very, very awesome lives.

To learn why and how to easily integrate disability into your marketing, check out our free disability marketing guide.

Consumers want brands to show diversity in their ads.

Diversity includes disability.