Tag: relationships

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Living With a Disability-WITH A HOPE

According to me, one of the misfortunes of living with a disability is the loss of spontaneity. I miss impromptu trysts with friends for a midday coffee, catching a matinee at the last minute, foot-scorching sands on the beach, beach towel sunbathing, walking barefoot in the rain…but, living with a disability can not diminish beholding beauty.

Recently, I felt overindulged at a friend’s “throw her own” birthday party. She invited an estimated seventy friends for a special luncheon at her country club. (For you guys, if you’re not into flowers, envision the panoramic view through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the 18-hole, 6,702 yards of rambling golf course. Now, fantasize about your par 71 score. Check back in for the last three paragraphs.) The speaker was Dorothy McDaniels of Dorothy McDaniel’s Flower Market fame in Homewood, Alabama. (She has even made arrangements for Margaret Thatcher!) She demonstrated techniques of a dozen different floral arrangements using red roses and green roses (I didn’t know that there were green roses.), green hydrangeas, purple irises, hot pink lilies, yellow this and thats, and white everythings; I love the purity and simplicity of white.

My rose after a two day bloom

 

The table settings were breathtaking. At each place setting was a single rose tied with bows of purple organza and spring green satin. Every rose was a different type and a different color.

 

The centerpieces were low and glorious with light and hot pinks, purples and periwinkles, orange, yellow, and green. See!

A floral rainbow

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The meal was as colorful and tasty: Spring greens salad sprinkled with sliced strawberries, wild mushroom crepes with Béchamel (a rich, creamy white sauce) over a rice pilaf, and rainbow sherbet with a Pirouette (rolled cookie) served in a long stem wine glass. Yum!

Outings have been rare lately, although I’ll be out promoting my book, Views From My Chariot: A Wheelchair Oddity, in the upcoming months! August 23-26, I’ll be in Chicago for the fall National Rehabilitation Conference peddling my book. Look me up if you’re there.

Although, I believe this is my temporary home (like Carrie Underwood’s song), I travel daily, making the best of living with a disability. Each room in my home is decorated with a different country’s influence. My wardrobe is ethnically chosen, and two of my three cats are Persian and Russian.

A language barrier you wonder? No problem! The language in my home is love—the universal language!

When I “relocate,” I look forward to traveling this universe beholding its breathtaking beauty. I’ll be whole and healed, enjoying unsurpassed spontaneity. That will be something.

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The Etiquette of Truth

The truth used to be told straight up, according to the facts, as it was seen, and with no apologies. Of course, if it was bad news, it was given with heart-felt sympathy and concern, as with the doctor’s prognosis of our disability, illness, or disease. Otherwise, the truth was served up as the truth. Who doesn’t tell the truth or want to know the truth? Well….

When I was fifteen, I remember having a conversation with my best girlfriend. I trustingly asked her to tell me something in my personality that needed tweaking; some bothersome trait she found annoying. I seriously wanted to be a better person. Who else would tell you the truth but your best friend? She agreed to tell me something I needed to change on one condition: that I would first tell her a habit she needed to change.

Well, I loved her the way she was. The only thing I could think of was that most of the time I went to her house to spend time with her. So that’s what I said—I would like for her to come to my house more often instead of always having to go to hers.

Now that it was my turn, I asked her again. She said, “I don’t want to. I don’t know.”

I felt so let down and disappointed that she wouldn’t give me any constructive criticism. Now that I’m older, I understand the conflict she must have felt in telling the truth, even though I had asked for it.

Since becoming disabled, I have observed (or have become more aware of) people’s aversion to and avoidance of discomfort, whether mental or physical. One of these seemingly uncomfortable situations is being around the disabled.

During the five months of SCI rehabilitation after my car wreck, we were warned of other’s reactions to us. The teaching staff explained that their responses to us were more a result of their ignorance than our condition. I have experienced this as true.
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Before I internalize another’s words, looks, or actions, I remove my self-centered glasses stained from my life experiences. (Regardless, if a matter has nothing to do with oneself, we tend to interpret it personally.) When I do this, I can see their awkwardness and discomfort as they approach me.

Most often they look over my head or in another direction. If they muster up enough nerve to meet my gaze, I simply smile. I understand. At first, I didn’t know what to do with myself. And, I’ve learned that we in wheelchairs, using walkers, or assisted by guide dogs aren’t the only ones disabled.

For those of you paralyzed by uncertainty of what to do in our presence, it’s okay. For a starter in etiquette, you could just acknowledge that I am there with a smile and a nod.  At our next encounter, you could do the same or ask if there is anything I need help with. You might even confess your lack of experience in helping a disabled person, but you’re available and willing to learn.

Amazingly, truth dismantles barriers. Unhealed wounds, self-absolving justifications, and staid conclusive judgements do not teach us about anyone or anything, particularly ourselves. There should be no consequences to a well-meaning truth.

What has been your experience? Let’s talk about you.

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Satisfied-In Spite of Disability

There are a myriad of things from which we can find peace and satisfaction. Living with a disability, illness, or disease does not prevent us from experiencing joy and happiness either. The heart attitude of ingratitude does that.

One of the most important ways in finding peace AND satisfaction is assuring that our friends and loved ones know we love and appreciate them. I know mine do because I show them by how I treat them, and because I tell them every day. I believe Jewel’s song, “Satisfied,” reveals an anointed insight into our heart’s deepest desire—to love and to be loved, despite its redemptive value.

“Satisfied” encourages us to not be timid, afraid of, or hold back words of love, especially important to those of us with disabilities because we’re physically limited in the many other ways of demonstrating affection. She expresses that the sorrow of regret is worse than any fear of rejection. Give it a listen. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ArAlk3yf5hI

Growing up, I don’t remember my parents ever telling me that they loved me. It wasn’t until my late twenties or early thirties that I began telling them that I loved them. (I was a late bloomer in learning to express my emotions.) Talk about awkward—very for me, but more so for them.

My intent was to make sure they knew I loved them, not to change their behavior; nor to hear them tell me. Although they did in time, in the beginning there were nervous laughs, bowed head “uh-hums,” and “Okay, then…” at our good-byes.

I could have lived my life without the expression of those three words, by me or from my parents. And, in a futile attempt to justify myself, I could have pointed my finger at them to divert attention away from my failing. But, during my adjustment to disability, my heart received the blessing to see how much I truly did need to hear those three words, as well as being comfortable expessing them.
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How often are we found guilty of putting our best foot forward for mere acquaintances, church members, fellow employees, and our bosses, but are rude, inconsiderate, and disrespectful to members of our own families? Through my disability, I have realized how much I need others, especially my family. If I don’t tell them today how very special they are to me, I might not have another chance. I don’t want to live with that regret.

Every one of us drew the short straw for, at least, one admirable character quality. If you are clueless as to what one of your shortcomings might be, but truly want to be a better you, try this: Ask your closest friend to help. First, to tell you what quality they love the most about you; second, the most annoying. You will be blessed hearing what endears you to them and, in time, you will be a blessing to them by changing that character flaw.

Don’t expect yourself, or anyone else who may join in on this satisfaction search, to instantly change by just a twitch of the nose. Baby steps are slow, and there will be fall downs.

Get a good brush.