From the moment we come out of the womb we struggle forward
in an eternal search for the things that will form our identity, who are we, who do we belong to, who are the
people that we will become. When illness, injury or death enters our lives
this perspective changes, not just in ourselves, but also in those around us.
Who we are and how we are seen changes, sometimes instantly, but always
gradually and progressively is the acceptance of that change.
As someone who started and lived my first twenty-six years
as an athlete and in perfect health, this change has struck me hard. Gliding atop the gods longest siren call, the
movement of the ocean was mine and I was it. I moved as swiftly and smoothly as
a fish, always able to maneuver my way through the underwater crevices of life
with ease. Then all of sudden I couldn’t. For the last almost fifteen years I
have struggled to raise my arms off of body more than a quarter of an inch or
to walk across the room without falling.
Stubbornness, lots of hard work and the care of good health providers
has kept me going, from being bed ridden like most people with my disease,
Inclusion Body Myositis, but the world now sees me differently. If you are in a wheel chair it gives people a
reference point, disabled people are in
wheelchairs, have canes, use walkers… however, without these, people just
stare, make assumptions, call the police and report you as a drunk in public. The only things we have, the weapons in arsenal,
is ourselves, the abilities we were born with and have developed. Like the
women in this vide I struggle with the, What
now? Writing has been the resource I have developed, the wheelchair I am equipping
for underwater travels once again!
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