Dear Retailers: Not All Christmas Shoppers Walk Through Your Doors
A Note Before You Read
This article was originally written in October 2018 after a Christmas shopping trip with my daughter Rebecca.
As Christmas approaches once again, I have chosen to revisit it because the experiences described here highlight something that many disabled shoppers still face today: accessibility barriers that most people never notice.
I sincerely hope that some of the issues mentioned in this article have improved since it was first published. However, the wider message remains important.
As retailers prepare for the busy festive season, I would encourage business owners, store managers, and retail teams to take a moment to consider how accessible their premises are for wheelchair users, people with mobility difficulties, parents with prams, and those living with chronic illness.
For many people, Christmas shopping is a simple day out.
For others, it can take months of planning, careful energy management, and a significant physical cost.
Accessibility is not just about complying with regulations.
It is about ensuring that everyone has the opportunity to enjoy the same experiences with dignity, independence, and confidence.
More Than Just a Shopping Trip
To most people, a few hours spent Christmas shopping might sound completely ordinary.
A trip into town.
A coffee.
A browse around the shops.
Maybe a few festive purchases.
For me, it was something much bigger.
This day had been almost twelve months in the making.
Not because it took twelve months to organise.
Because it took twelve months to hope for.
Planning Christmas Before Christmas Had Even Happened
The story actually began the year before.
In October 2017, Rebecca and I were sitting on my bed discussing our Park Christmas Savings account.
Like many families, we saved throughout the year for Christmas. We talked about vouchers, presents, decorations, and all the little traditions that make Christmas special.
But we also talked about something else.
Hope.
We hoped that by the following Christmas my health might be good enough for us to enjoy a day out together.
At the time, that didn’t feel like a certainty.
It felt like a dream.
Living With Uncertainty
One of the hardest parts of living with Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (ME/CFS) is that you cannot predict what tomorrow will bring.
You can plan.
You can hope.
You can prepare.
But your body has the final say.
Days out are not spontaneous.
They are calculated risks.
Every outing comes with a price.
Every decision requires weighing up whether the experience will be worth the inevitable crash afterwards.
The Day Finally Arrived
On the morning of 16th October 2018, I woke up feeling well enough.
After months of hoping, postponing, and waiting, Rebecca and I were finally going shopping together.
Just the two of us.
A proper mother-and-daughter day.
The excitement in her voice when I shouted upstairs for her to get ready is something I’ll never forget.
After so many cancelled plans, this felt special.
The Hidden Cost of Leaving the House
For many people, leaving the house requires little thought.
For someone with severe ME, every outing begins with calculations.
How much energy will this take?
Will I manage the journey?
Will the wheelchair be enough?
How long will recovery take afterwards?
Most people only see the few hours spent outside.
They don’t see the days or weeks of preparation beforehand.
They don’t see the post-exertional malaise afterwards.
They don’t see the price we pay.
Accessibility Matters More Than People Realise
As we moved around Liverpool city centre, I found myself facing the same problem repeatedly.
Small changes in floor levels.
Narrow aisles.
Crowded spaces.
Raised payment counters.
Displays that blocked wheelchair access.
The barriers weren’t dramatic.
Individually, each one seemed insignificant.
Together, they became exhausting.
Every obstacle required extra energy.
Every inaccessible space reminded me that many environments are still designed with only one type of customer in mind.
It's Not Just About Aisles
What frustrated me most wasn’t a single shop or a single obstacle.
It was the constant reminder that the world wasn’t designed for people like me.
When you’re sitting in a wheelchair, you suddenly realise how much of society is built around the assumption that everyone is standing.
Cash desks are designed for people standing.
Clothing rails are designed for people standing.
Food displays are designed for people standing.
Even simply seeing where you’re going becomes difficult when you’re surrounded by crowds.
Being in a busy shopping centre is overwhelming on two feet. Sitting lower than everyone else, unable to see ahead, while people constantly cut in front of you is exhausting.
Every sudden stop causes a chain reaction. Your wheelchair stops. The person pushing you stops. The people behind you stop.
And all the while you can feel people looking.
Staring.
Watching.
Sometimes with curiosity.
Sometimes with sympathy.
Sometimes with irritation.
By the end of the day I wasn’t just physically exhausted.
I was emotionally exhausted too.
I was tired of asking for help.
Tired of needing assistance to do things everyone else seemed able to do without even thinking.
Tired of being reminded that independence isn’t something I can take for granted.
People often talk about accessibility as though it’s a luxury.
It isn’t.
Accessibility is dignity.
Accessibility is independence.
Accessibility is being able to shop for Christmas decorations with your daughter without feeling like the environment is working against you every step of the way.
When You Have One Chance
What frustrated me most wasn’t the inconvenience.
It was the knowledge that I might not get another opportunity.
For many people, an inaccessible shop means coming back next week.
For someone with severe ME, that isn’t always possible.
This wasn’t just a shopping trip.
It was a rare good day.
A day that had been discussed, planned, and hoped for over an entire year.
That’s why accessibility matters.
Because when opportunities are rare, every one of them becomes precious.
The Memories That Matter
Despite the frustrations, there were still moments that made the day special.
Sharing breakfast with Rebecca.
Buying our annual bottle of Snow Fairy from Lush.
Choosing Disney treasures together.
Talking about Christmas decorations.
Making memories.
Those moments are worth holding onto.
They remind me why we keep hoping.
Why we keep planning.
Why we keep trying.
We Are All Equal, Aren't We?
Accessibility isn’t about special treatment.
It’s about equal opportunity.
It is about ensuring that wheelchair users, disabled people, parents with prams, and anyone with mobility difficulties can experience the same spaces as everyone else.
Without barriers.
Without embarrassment.
Without having to ask for permission.
Because none of us should have to spend a year hoping for a day out only to discover that the world still wasn’t built with us in mind.
And yet, even after the disappointments, the thing I remember most is not the inaccessible aisles or the raised counters.
I remember spending time with my daughter.
And that made the day worth it.
Looking Back and Looking Forward
I genuinely hope that some of the accessibility issues I encountered have improved since then.
To be fair, Liverpool has made significant efforts over the years to become a more accessible city. From improved public spaces and transport options to greater awareness of accessibility needs, there are many people working hard to make sure disabled people can participate more fully in everyday life.
Is there still work to be done? Absolutely.
But progress deserves to be recognised too.
Accessibility is not just about wheelchair ramps or wider aisles. It is about ensuring that everyone, regardless of disability or health condition, has the opportunity to enjoy the same experiences, create the same memories, and feel included in the places they visit.
As I revisit this article today, I find myself hoping for exactly the same thing I was hoping for back in 2018.
That I get another Christmas day out with my Princess.
That we can browse the Christmas decorations, stop for a coffee, laugh at things we don’t need but somehow end up buying anyway, and make memories together.
Those moments are precious.
And no matter how many years pass, they will always be worth hoping for.
Love always,
Alisha ❤️
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If you’ve ever found yourself rethinking what life looks like, you’re not alone. These are a few other posts where I’ve shared more of that journey…
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What is Myalgic Encephalomyelitis ( A Simple Guide)
The things that have helped me navigate daily life—small changes that can make a big difference.
You’re not alone in this—whatever your version of life looks like right now.
Here are a few pieces that might help or resonate with you.
Take what you need, at your own pace.
Living With Non-Alcoholic Steatohepatitis (NASH): My Story, the Research, and What You Need to Know
ME Pyjama Party
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Help and Support for Myalgic Encephalomyelitis
There are organisations dedicated to supporting people living with Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (ME).
These charities provide reliable information, support networks, and advocacy to improve awareness and understanding of ME.
They can help you:
Understand your symptoms
Connect with others living with ME
Access support and resources
Stay informed about research and developments
Living with ME can feel isolating, but support is out there — and it can make a real difference.
If you ever need someone to talk to, or simply want to feel understood, you are always welcome here.
Get comfy for a cause!
The ME Pyjama Party is a powerful yet simple way to raise awareness for Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (ME).
During ME Awareness Week and Severe ME Day, we’re inviting you to wear your pyjamas in solidarity with those who are bed-bound due to this debilitating illness.
How to Join:
✔ Take a picture in your PJs
✔ Post it on social media using #MEPJPARTY
✔ Tag friends & spread the message!
Caring for someone with Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (ME) can be challenging, but you are not alone. 💙
Join the ME Carer Community—a safe space for support, advice, and connection. Let’s uplift one another. 🤝
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