“Trainers never matched my aesthetic”: The emotional impact of wearing AFO splints

I have worn an Ankle Foot Orthotic (AFO) on and off since the age of 7 and it’s fair to say that my relationship with them over the years has varied quite considerably. I’m now 21-years-old and I wear two fixed AFO’s. I now choose to wear them due to it allowing me to walk a lot further and I can’t really see there being a time when I won’t wear them – but that’s okay!

They didn’t fit the aesthetic

Over the years the importance of the right shoes has always been a big deal. I wanted them to look right and yet my feet had other ideas. They need to be supportive and be able to fit an AFO splint, this is not an easy task! Compromising the wants for a need is a common theme when you have a disability.

One of the main things which caused hatred towards my splints were the shoes I’d have to wear. Being a girly-girl at heart, pretty and pink was a firm aesthetic growing up. Yet bulky splints rarely made this a possibility. It’s not the first time on my blog that I have admitted to my fair share of shoe throwing when it yet again was a pair of trainers.

Trainers quickly became the enemy. Not only that, trainers made me feel less like everyone else. The shoes didn’t match the clothes I wore and I felt the outfit was never complete.

The relationship with shoes

I tried so hard to squeeze these ridged splints into a pretty shoe when I was about 10-years-old. Why couldn’t I wear the shoes I wanted to? Why can’t I be like everyone else? Resorting to trainers felt like a punishment and I felt it just made me standout even more.

On the rare occasions that a ‘nice’ shoe was found it would be such an emotional moment. My pink sandals when I was 9, brogues when I was 17 and Dr. Martens when I was 19. It was almost like a glimmer of normality. Everyone else just picks shoes because they like them, I had so many factors to consider. People must have thought it was ridiculous to be sat crying in the men’s shoe department with some black brogues laced up around moulds of plastic. I didn’t care they were men’s, and therefore wider to accommodate my splint, because they fit. It meant I could wear vintage inspired outfits with shoes that matched.

Due to this, shoes have had a high importance and emotional impact throughout my life. They say you are never fully dressed without a smile, yet I never feel completely ready if the shoes just don’t go. Finding the shoes that fit my splints and my preferences seemed like a needle in a haystack at times, yet it’s worth it in the end. It’s made me really appreciate nice shoes and it can feel like you are getting that slight control over your disability when it does work out. Yes it may just be a pair of shoes to someone else, but it can be hope for me.

A promising change

Let’s just fast-forward 4 years. It’s the Black Friday sales and I find myself scrolling through the the various offers, 20 minutes later and I’m on the Shue website looking at trainers! I’m willingly looking at, and considering, trainers. The very shoes I despised were now potentially a choice and I didn’t appreciate how huge that was at the time.

Trainers are a lot more varied then they used to be and not all of them are super sporty. They’re actually a pretty versatile shoe that will go with a more casual ‘jeans and a top’ kind of outfit. It also would be a lot easier to get splints in. To some extent, I’m convincing myself that this was okay. It’s not a bad thing to like a pair of trainers and this doesn’t mean I am ruining the years of repelling this kind of shoe. The brogues and Dr. Martens boots will still be waiting to fit the aesthetic of tomorrow.

I’m not even sure if this is something that will resonate with others who wear AFO splints. But if it does, I hope you can take some comfort from knowing you are not the only one. They aren’t ‘just shoes’ and you are allowed to be frustrated at the lack of suitable alternatives! I hope you’re able to be proud of your AFO’s and take things one step at a time.

– Chloe x