The cost of asking for help. There was a time when asking for help wasn’t a big deal.
When I had full sight, I could do almost everything myself. If I needed a hand with something, I simply asked. Like everyone else, I occasionally relied on family, friends or colleagues. It never felt awkward because it wasn’t something I had to do very often.
Losing Sight, Losing Ease
Then I started to lose my sight.
At first, the changes were small. I needed help reading the occasional document or navigating a website that wasn’t accessible. It was frustrating, but manageable.
As my vision continued to change, so did the number of things I needed help with. At first it was reading the occasional letter or asking someone to describe something on a website. Then it became checking invoices, filling in online forms, reading PDFs that my screen reader couldn’t understand and trying to make sense of websites that simply weren’t built with accessibility in mind.
Before long, asking for help wasn’t something I did every now and then. It became part of almost every day.
The strange thing is that the more I needed help, the harder it became to ask for it.
Independence Takes Extra Work
I’ve always been an independent person, and I still am. I use assistive technology wherever I can and spend a lot of time finding ways to do things for myself. There is a real sense of achievement when I can solve a problem independently. But there are times when technology reaches its limit, and that’s usually because the information in front of me isn’t accessible.
When that happens, I have to ask someone else to step in.
The Hidden Cost
The people I ask are wonderful. They never make me feel like I’m a burden, but that doesn’t stop me thinking about what I’m asking of them. They have their own work to do, families to care for and responsibilities to juggle. Every time I ask someone to read a document, explain a website or help me complete a form, I’m asking them to put their day on hold so I can get through mine.
Over time, you stop worrying about the task itself and start worrying about whether you’re asking too much of the people around you. That’s a much heavier burden to carry. It’s not because anyone has made me feel guilty. It’s because I know their time is valuable, just as mine is. Sometimes I’ll put things off because I don’t want to interrupt them again. Other times I’ll spend far longer trying to solve the problem myself, hoping I’ll find another way, simply because I don’t want to be the person who’s always asking for help.
Those feelings aren’t unique to me. Research published in the Journal of Communication Disorders found that ongoing communication difficulties can lead to reduced social participation, increased loneliness and poorer mental wellbeing. While the study focused on older adults, it highlights something many people with disability already know. When communication becomes a barrier, the impact extends well beyond the task itself. It can affect confidence, relationships and the willingness to ask for help in the first place
Privacy Still Matters
People often tell me, “That’s what support workers are for.”
Sometimes that’s true, but life isn’t that simple. I don’t always have a support worker with me when I need one, and even when I do, there are some things I simply don’t want to share. My banking details, medical information, legal paperwork and personal emails are exactly that, personal. Losing your sight, hearing or ability to move shouldn’t mean losing your privacy as well.
Why Standards Matter
People sometimes ask me why I spend so much time talking about digital accessibility standards. They can sound technical, and I’ll admit they don’t make for exciting conversation.
The truth is that I don’t talk about accessibility standards because I enjoy standards.
I talk about them because they give me something that every person wants, independence.
When organisations create accessible websites, accessible documents, accessible emails and accessible online forms, I don’t have to ask someone to read them for me. I can do it myself. I don’t have to hand over a personal email because it was sent as an image. I can read it privately. I don’t have to wait until somebody has time to help me complete an online form. I can complete it when it suits me.
To me, digital accessibility standards aren’t a checklist or a compliance exercise. They are independence built into the way information is created. They protect my privacy, preserve my dignity and allow me to participate in everyday life without depending on someone else’s time.
That’s why I’m so passionate about digital accessibility. It has never been about ticking a compliance box or meeting the minimum legal requirement. It’s about removing barriers that never needed to exist in the first place.
Most people don’t realise how much of life now happens online. We read emails, pay bills, sign documents, complete forms, access government services and communicate with businesses digitally. When those everyday interactions aren’t accessible, the barrier isn’t my blindness. The barrier is the way the information has been designed.
That’s an important distinction.
Blindness doesn’t stop me reading an accessible document. Blindness doesn’t stop me completing an accessible online form. Blindness doesn’t stop me navigating an accessible website.
Inaccessibility does.
Beyond My Experience
I don’t expect the world to remove every challenge that comes with blindness. Some things will always require support, and that’s simply part of life.
What I do hope is that I can read my own documents, complete an online form, check an invoice or open a personal email without having to ask someone else first. Those aren’t unreasonable expectations. They’re everyday tasks that most people complete without giving them a second thought.
I also know that I’m not alone.
While my experience comes from losing my sight, many people with disability face the same frustration. Someone who is Deaf may need captions or transcripts to access information independently. An autistic person may need clear, consistent layouts that reduce confusion. Someone with dyslexia may benefit from well-structured, easy-to-read content. A person with limited mobility may rely on being able to navigate a website using only a keyboard. The disability may be different, but the outcome is often the same. When information isn’t accessible, independence is taken away.
That’s why I keep talking about digital accessibility standards. Not because I love standards or enjoy talking about compliance, but because I know what happens when they’re followed.
Accessible websites, documents, emails and online forms allow people to participate without constantly relying on someone else’s time. They protect privacy, support dignity and give people the opportunity to manage their own lives in the way most of us want to, independently.
To me, that’s what digital accessibility has always been about. It isn’t simply better design or meeting a standard. It’s giving people the freedom to do ordinary things for themselves.
Continue the conversation
Every inaccessible website, document, email or online form creates a barrier that someone has to work around. Too often, that means asking for help when they should be able to do it independently.
Accessibility isn’t just about meeting a standard—it’s about giving people the opportunity to participate with confidence, protect their privacy and maintain their independence.
If you’re ready to create digital experiences that work for everyone, DASAT can help. From accessibility audits and document remediation to training and practical advice, we’ll help you build accessibility in from the beginning—so people don’t have to ask for it later.
Let’s work together to create a more accessible digital world, one interaction at a time.