I am often regarded as an inspiration, a shining example, someone to look up to, and other titles I don't always feel I deserve. Don't get me wrong, I agree with the whys; always trying new things and excited to do so.. even trying to pull others with me. I just don't feel like anything special for doing these things, especially since it took a wheelchair to get me here. I'm going to be really honest here...
I used to be afraid of fucking everything.
Afraid to fail and to succeed, afraid of a crowd and of being alone, worrying about what others thought of me or that no one thought of me at all. I hated going out into social situations, but didn't want to stay home by myself. I feared getting called on to speak in class and, even worse, to read out loud. I worried about why I always felt the need to be moving, but was more afraid to call attention to myself by causing trouble, so I found quiet ways to fidget. I hated trying new things, but got bored so easily. And so many other things.... if you want to put a label on it, I have an anxiety disorder along with undiagnosed dyslexia and adhd. As a child I was simply labelled shy.
Near the end of high school, I grew tired of the limitations being "shy" gave me, so I decided to change and was fueled on by starting college; a place where no one knew me, had no expectations, and I could be whatever I wanted. It was rough, but I learned to speak up, to express my opinions (then learned to tone down the harshness just a bit), to push the limits of my comfort zone, and embrace my need for constant movement.
A year after graduating college, I had my second knee surgery and was told I had to think like I had limited miles on my knee. I went the opposite direction my doctor expected; I threw myself into an unknown social situation by signing up to train for my first half marathon with the American Heart Association. This began my journey into being active, but I was still cautious about pushing my limits, both physically and mentally.
Eight years later, I found myself in a wheelchair... but also part of two great communities; the trail running community that I was already a part of and were ready and willing to support my new endeavors, and the wheelchair community that I was new to and excited to show me all the things I could still do. They are the real inspirations. My friends that chose to experience these changes with me. The strangers, turned friends, that caught me right at the beginning to tell me there were so many awesome things to discover, and the ones that keep that juggernaut going.
You see, I try new things because I feel like I wasted so much time. I was afraid for so long. I missed so much in that fear; the foods I could have tried, the friends I could have had, the things I could have tried, the experiences I could have, well.. experienced. Instead of living in the could haves, I choose to live now and try whatever I come across. And that excites me. That's not to say I'm not afraid anymore, I just fear missed opportunities more now.
Plus I've made friends that make social situations less overwhelming for me, are willing to let me make/help me fix my mistakes, and are far too awesome to let me weigh myself down with worrying thoughts. The new things I try are way too fun to pass up, and I have grown to love the challenges they present. In recognizing the anxiety, dyslexia, and adhd, I have found better ways to adapt and adjust. And, did I mention it's a lot more fun to do things than to worry about them...?
Most of all, I want to be able to look back and say "yep, I tried that!"
Monday, May 29, 2017
Wednesday, May 24, 2017
Take the damn stairs!
The other day, as I was waiting for an elevator on the second floor of a building, it arrived as I was looking longingly at the stairs. How easy it used to be to get out of a building. How I used to take a break from my desk by running up and down the stairs right next to my office. This happens often, but was made a bit more memorable when the doors opened; the woman already in the car started to step out, then realized it wasn't her floor and stepped back... then looked at me as I started towards the car and jumped out to take the stairs the rest of the way down. As I sat in the empty elevator for my short trip, I wondered what had gone through her head that made her jump out. Was she afraid of being cramped? Or afraid I would feel cramped? Or did she simply realize I didn't have a choice and she did, and acted on it?
I don't know which one I hope was her reason, but the last one has stuck with me. There are so many things that have been taken away or I've given up in this fight with my legs. And I have adapted and learned my new options; it's a way of life. Having these options makes me feel better, but it doesn't mean I like all of them. Especially elevators. I would have felt cramped with another person in there with me, but that's my problem to deal with and I would never demand that it become someone else's problem. I will always prefer stairs despite the difficulty they give me. Just like my love of the outdoors, stairs offer a moment to myself away from the overriding technology of the world. And that's mostly what I miss: being able to do that simple thing for myself instead of it being done for me. So if it's an option for you.. take the damn stairs!
Today, I read a rather scathing article about how Fidget Spinners reveal disability discrimination... hang in there with me, I promise this might make sense by the time I'm done! This is the most telling piece of the article: This is important. Really important, so read this next sentence twice: Something that was considered entirely pathological and in dire need of correction when done by disabled people is now perfectly acceptable because it is being done by non-disabled people.
I'd like to be clear right off, I don't disagree with the opinion of the article, I just don't appreciate how it was presented. The most poignant piece to stick with me was the upset that it took an able-bodied person to make the act of stimming "normal"... I put quotes on that because normal is superfluous. Stimming is a term for self-stimulation and everyone does it, it's just something that helps us focus (tap your pen, doodle on your paper..), the difference is the term has been placed on those who are disabled because they do it differently. Adapting to their own needs, which don't necessarily line up with "normal", but helps them get through the day.
But back to my point.... a non-disabled person had to bring the awareness that it's okay to need to do something physically to concentrate mentally. Like I said, I agree that this sucks, but it's also right up there with placing Lou Gehrig's name on a relatively unknown disease in order to bring it awareness and research or Christopher Reeve (aka Superman) to use his own name and fame to bring awareness and help to the disabled community after becoming disabled, himself. It would be great to have a champion come out of the disabled community and bring about this awareness.. take the stairs, if you will; I feel that longing in hoping everyone will listen for the sake of learning something beyond the "normal".
But people are simple creatures. While a person is willing to learn from anyone willing to teach, people generally need to learn things from those we already understand, those that are like us, that we are already familiar with, or that we have something in common with.
And so, just like my relationship with the elevator, sometimes we need that outside help. While each community wishes to teach their own lessons, that option doesn't always work. We never give up, though.. the stairs are always a possibility as long as we believe they are. And I will always do my small part in bringing my friends into adaptive sports, or letting them try my wheelchair, or answering random question, or even today when I inadvertently gave my trainer a small view into how much harder I work as he demonstrated my next move and he was surprised at the challenge he had with something that had become routine for him.
I don't know which one I hope was her reason, but the last one has stuck with me. There are so many things that have been taken away or I've given up in this fight with my legs. And I have adapted and learned my new options; it's a way of life. Having these options makes me feel better, but it doesn't mean I like all of them. Especially elevators. I would have felt cramped with another person in there with me, but that's my problem to deal with and I would never demand that it become someone else's problem. I will always prefer stairs despite the difficulty they give me. Just like my love of the outdoors, stairs offer a moment to myself away from the overriding technology of the world. And that's mostly what I miss: being able to do that simple thing for myself instead of it being done for me. So if it's an option for you.. take the damn stairs!
Today, I read a rather scathing article about how Fidget Spinners reveal disability discrimination... hang in there with me, I promise this might make sense by the time I'm done! This is the most telling piece of the article: This is important. Really important, so read this next sentence twice: Something that was considered entirely pathological and in dire need of correction when done by disabled people is now perfectly acceptable because it is being done by non-disabled people.
I'd like to be clear right off, I don't disagree with the opinion of the article, I just don't appreciate how it was presented. The most poignant piece to stick with me was the upset that it took an able-bodied person to make the act of stimming "normal"... I put quotes on that because normal is superfluous. Stimming is a term for self-stimulation and everyone does it, it's just something that helps us focus (tap your pen, doodle on your paper..), the difference is the term has been placed on those who are disabled because they do it differently. Adapting to their own needs, which don't necessarily line up with "normal", but helps them get through the day.
But back to my point.... a non-disabled person had to bring the awareness that it's okay to need to do something physically to concentrate mentally. Like I said, I agree that this sucks, but it's also right up there with placing Lou Gehrig's name on a relatively unknown disease in order to bring it awareness and research or Christopher Reeve (aka Superman) to use his own name and fame to bring awareness and help to the disabled community after becoming disabled, himself. It would be great to have a champion come out of the disabled community and bring about this awareness.. take the stairs, if you will; I feel that longing in hoping everyone will listen for the sake of learning something beyond the "normal".
But people are simple creatures. While a person is willing to learn from anyone willing to teach, people generally need to learn things from those we already understand, those that are like us, that we are already familiar with, or that we have something in common with.
And so, just like my relationship with the elevator, sometimes we need that outside help. While each community wishes to teach their own lessons, that option doesn't always work. We never give up, though.. the stairs are always a possibility as long as we believe they are. And I will always do my small part in bringing my friends into adaptive sports, or letting them try my wheelchair, or answering random question, or even today when I inadvertently gave my trainer a small view into how much harder I work as he demonstrated my next move and he was surprised at the challenge he had with something that had become routine for him.
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