I Dare You!

"You can't do that..."

I have been told that a lot my entire life. As a kid, it was mostly from my brother or other boys and it became equated to "I dare you!" I was convinced that I could do anything the boys were doing even though I grew up in a time, place, and family that tried to convince me I should only play with dolls and wear dresses. I did, but my dolls sat in the basket on my bike while I rode as fast as I could down the driveway or they watched as I climbed the nearest tree... and it drove my mom crazy that I was so un-ladylike in my cute little dresses.

I lost that a bit in my teenage years; I still had that rebellion, but I believed it more when I was told I couldn't or shouldn't do something as my knee became more and more painful. I sat on the sidelines at PE, I danced in the back row in choir, I watched and hoped more often than I tried.

After my second surgery, that rebellion came back full force. At age 22, I was promised a knee replacement in my future and I was mad that the story that would lead to that was boring... and that I had taken it easy between surgeries and still ended up needing another one. When I was released from physical therapy I asked for exercises I could keep doing and got back on my bike. A year later, I started training for half marathons and for each person that told me I couldn't or shouldn't be able to finish, I became more determined I was going to do just that. Maybe in spite of them, but definitely to prove to myself I could.

And I kept going from there, trying new things and pushing my limits for eight years... then my legs stopped working right and a wheelchair and crutches appeared at my side. "You can't do that" came back from many directions. It was hard to push against it this time since I was in an entirely new territory. I did not know what I could do or how to adapt to the things I couldn't do anymore. It took a lot of research and questions and a lot of small steps to make it further into this new world to look around. Even now after two years, even though I'm comfortable with trying new ways of doing things and figuring out how to adapt, it's hard when someone who doesn't know any thing about me and/or using a wheelchair tells me that I can't do something. It's even harder when it's someone that does know me, and my stubborn streak. The "I dare you!" is back, but that push down while I'm doing something that is much harder physically and/or mentally than ever before just makes me mad.

And so for anyone interested in telling me I can't do something or the nicer, but still patronizing, "are you sure you can do that?", I have decided to make a list of the things I can't do. I'm leaving it at that, I'm not even going to include the things I have had to adapt to or have adapted to me.

Are you ready? Here we go....

I can't climb a ladder.



That's it. I will admit that I don't like ladders anyway, so I haven't tried it.

The next time you feel the need to tell someone that they can't do something for whatever reason, please take a moment and think how that feels. And maybe offer to help, accompany, or volunteer to be a spotter rather than try to squash the idea/activity altogether. I'm also going to tell you a secret; I know you're concerned and I appreciate it (mostly), but it hurts more to feel that lack of faith than any mistake or misstep that may happen as I try to keep doing the things I have always done.