After my stroke at 28, everything about how I moved through the world changed.

I lost the use of my right side, started using a wheelchair, and had to relearn not just how to navigate spaces — but how to recognize which spaces were actually built for people like me.

I don’t live in an apartment now — I live in a house with my parents and nephew — but I’ve lived in enough apartments to know that a pretty kitchen or “accessible” label doesn’t mean much if the layout traps you in a corner.

Let’s talk about why the layout of an apartment is one of the most important things to look at for real-world accessibility — especially when it comes to turning radius and open space.

Here’s something most architects miss: you need at least 5 feet (60 inches) of clear space to make a full turn in a manual or power wheelchair.

That’s the minimum to spin around without scraping walls or backing into furniture.

If a floorplan doesn’t give you that space, you’re stuck doing awkward multi-point turns — or just avoiding certain rooms altogether.

That’s not freedom. That’s a trap.

Tight layouts still make daily life harder. I have to line up just right to get into some bathrooms or kitchens — and once I’m in, turning around can be nearly impossible.

Here’s what you want to see in an accessible apartment:

Open space isn’t just nice to have — it’s necessary.

If you use a wheelchair, you need clear, predictable paths through your apartment, especially in high-traffic areas like hallways, living rooms, and doorways.

Hallways should be at least 36 inches wide, but more is always better. This gives you enough space to move through without bumping into walls or doing awkward side angles.

In the living area, it’s not just about the furniture you have — it’s about where it’s placed.

A beautiful space doesn’t mean much if you can’t get through it.

Make sure you can easily roll around coffee tables, under dining tables, and between chairs without feeling like you’re navigating an obstacle course.

Also, avoid layouts that require sharp turns to reach essentials like the bathroom or bedroom — especially if those turns happen near walls or furniture edges that can catch your wheels.

Doorways can make or break a space. Look for doors that swing fully open without hitting a wall or furniture behind them.

A door that opens halfway because of poor placement can block your turning radius or prevent you from lining up your chair properly. If you use a power chair or need extra space to reposition, that blocked swing adds stress and wasted effort.

Thresholds are another thing to watch.

A bump of even half an inch can stop your wheels cold or become a trip hazard. Aim for flat, seamless transitions between rooms — especially at the entry door, bathroom, and balcony (if applicable).

If you’re dealing with older buildings, this might mean asking the landlord about temporary ramps or whether the thresholds can be modified.

Kitchens are often the worst offenders when it comes to poor layout. Too many are built for people who stand and pivot, not roll and reach.

A truly accessible kitchen should have 40 to 60 inches of clear space between counters so you can turn easily without running into the fridge, oven, or lower cabinets.

Avoid any kitchen that has a fixed island or peninsula that traps you on one side.

These create dead-ends where there’s no room to turn around — especially if another person is in the kitchen too.

Smart kitchens for wheelchair users also feature side-opening ovens, reachable stovetop controls, and sinks with space underneath so you can roll in closer while cooking or cleaning.

Closets should be accessible without needing to back in or wedge yourself between furniture. If the room has a dresser, desk, or nightstand, check that there’s room to turn comfortably near each piece.

It doesn’t matter how nice the setup looks if you’re stuck reversing out of your own bedroom every morning.

Even in a smaller unit, a good layout matters more than square footage.

I’ve seen big apartments that were totally useless because of bad flow, and small ones that worked beautifully because the design made sense.

Even in a smaller apartment, good design can make the difference between feeling trapped and feeling free.

It’s not always about square footage — it’s about how the space flows and whether it adapts to you. When you’re looking at a potential apartment (or trying to improve the one you already have), here’s what to keep an eye out for:

Open layouts give you more room to move and adjust your path as needed. You don’t want to be stuck following a single narrow route from room to room.

Look for living areas that aren’t over-divided by permanent structures or bulky built-ins.

This gives you the freedom to arrange things in a way that works for your chair and your daily routine.

If the space feels like a maze or you can only reach the kitchen by zig-zagging between chairs and tables, it’s not designed for mobility. A good layout should let you roll smoothly through the entire apartment without needing to make tight turns just to get around furniture.

Floor space is precious.

Wall-mounted storage frees up valuable turning space and makes the room feel bigger and more open.

A floating shelf setup lets you reach what you need without running into corners or edges with your wheels.

If you’re limited to just one usable arm, like I am, it also helps to have shelves placed at a comfortable height — no awkward bending, reaching, or trying to grab something from the back of a deep dresser drawer.

One of the biggest red flags in any apartment is a walkway full of stuff. You should never have to weave around chairs, hampers, or loose cords just to get from point A to B.

Your space should feel open, not like a daily obstacle course.

Aim for wide, unobstructed paths throughout the apartment. That includes space near doorways, next to your bed, and around your main seating areas.

Think of each room as a full circle — if you can’t roll in, turn around, and roll back out without reversing or hitting something, the layout needs work.

A floorplan isn’t just lines on a paper — it tells you whether the space respects your independence or limits it.

If you use a wheelchair, you shouldn’t have to settle for squeezing through tight spaces or relying on help just to turn around.

After my stroke, I realized just how important layout really is. It’s not just about comfort.

It’s about safety, confidence, and having the freedom to move the way you need to — without having to fight your home every day.

If you’re apartment-hunting, don’t just look at the finishes. Look at the layout. Because accessibility starts with space to move.