Remember the Facts


It’s difficult to remember the fact that I am not like able-bodied people. That I, in fact, cannot carry a half empty suitcase or look for high heels to match my outfits. I have to remind myself that the taller I stand, the harder I fall. That my joints hurt when I stand in gym shoes for less then 5 minutes. I have to remember that I am not healthy and that my body is described as broken.  In my childlike mind I am acceptable, society is forgiving, and there is faith in humanity. 

That’s just it isn’t it, I’m not a child anymore and I have missing pieces. I’m like an Xbox with no memory, I can play the game but I can never remember my place. My mouth is a broken record with endless power supply. I will never take no for an answer. This is what makes me a deadly combination. My insides constantly need attention and resources to survive. My mind always has a plan to take advantage of its opportunities with no thought of who it’s taking advantage of. Give my mind the task of helping my body survive and hell would break loose.

I need to remember that people are not like me. They can look good every day. They can work and get paychecks. They can stay awake without fainting. They can wake up without nausea and pain. I forget that I can’t stand without dizziness. That I’ll never be able to run again. That I have to use a wheelchair when on vacation or going on long outings. That one day the wheelchair might be permanent. I forget that I can’t take care of my own life. That I may never be able to have the job of my dreams or go through college. I forget that I am disabled. The opposite of able. 

I need to remember how much of a responsibility I am. That I have to go ten times further then every one else, work ten times harder then everyone else. All to end up at the same finish line. I also need to realize that I was given super human amounts of tolerance, determination, and strength. That I can stand for 2 hours during a concert while my back spasms, my joints scrape together, and my sciatic nerve won’t stop screaming. That just meant that I would scream louder because I knew that I would remember that night. I knew I would never regret that night no matter how long I couldn’t walk afterward because for one night I lived through a future memory that wouldn’t be about me taking my medicine or having to cancel my plans so I could throw up at home. 

It’s difficult to remember the fact that I am not like able-bodied people because I am no less than them and I’m too busy enjoying the passion of the moments to notice our differences. So I guess they don’t really matter.

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