Ryan Honick smiles beside his golden service dog, Lovey, who wears a blue Canine Companions vest. Conference branding and professional credentials appear beside them.
This morning, I had the joy of presenting at the 5th Annual Communication Always Matters Always (CAMA) Conference—and I’m still catching my breath from the energy in the (virtual) room.
Thank you to Alisha Magilei-Noterman, Lisa Sandoval, and the Dynamic Therapy Solutions team for the honor of speaking alongside such passionate, intentional leaders. Being invited to this community means the world—and being able to share my lived experience with a service dog by my side, once again, feels both deeply familiar and wildly new.
Canine Companions® Lovey and I have only been home for a week since our team training in Medford—but she’s already making waves. This is her legacy in motion. And it’s only just begun.
In the weeks leading up to my training, folks in my world were cheering me on—excited for this next chapter and all it represented. For many, it sounded like a much-deserved break—something akin to a working vacation. And in some ways, yes, it was a pause from my daily professional life. But what it really was? Two weeks of focused, intentional work—emotional, physical, and cognitive. The kind of work that builds trust, redefines access, and prepares two beings to move through a world that isn’t built with us in mind.
And when I returned, so many people offered kind words: “You’re so inspiring.”
I know the intent is kind. But here’s the thing: I’m not here to inspire you. I’m here to inform you.
Because inclusion isn’t admiration. It’s anticipation. It’s not “we installed the door button”—it’s “does the button work, and is anyone checking?” Inclusion is not a checklist. It’s culture. And culture is built in the micro-moments.
70% of disabilities are invisible. That means most access needs aren’t obvious—and yet still require support, flexibility, and understanding. Even as a wheelchair user with a service dog, I regularly advocate for the things you can’t see: fatigue, visual processing, coordination challenges, the need for breaks between back-to-back meetings to care for myself and my dog.
Inclusion must be proactive—not reactive. I didn’t start documenting my rideshare denials to become “the service dog guy.” I did it because it was the only way to get platforms to take accountability.
Lovey and I are continuing that legacy now—with presence, with persistence, and with joy.
And what hit me most today? That every single one of these stories—about team training, workplace access, invisible disability, and culture change—sparked real conversation. People asked questions. Shared reflections. Saw themselves in the stories.
That’s why I do this work. Not for applause, but for the dialogue that follows. For the shift it creates. And for the people who leave a little more ready to advocate—for themselves or someone else.
Change happens one conversation at a time.
If you're a leader: model inclusion.
If you're a coworker: ask questions.
If you're disabled: keep going.