[ravfem]

i was born with my disabilities. As a child (ok, who am i kidding...up to present time), my family treated me as a disabled, unable to do for myself child, and took every opportunity to point it out to everyone i came into contact with. i absolutely hated going shoes shopping, because every. single. dang. time. my mama and/or granny would point out (to the sales person) the reason my feet were different sizes and why i couldn't (or really, wasn't allowed to) put the shoes on myself and tie them. i didn't learn to tie my shoes until i was maybe 10 or 11. my mama would dress me for school every morning until i was a pre-teen. i never learned how to ride a bike, run, skate, play on a jungle gym, etc because i was told i would get hurt. (a running thought in my head that still applies to this day)

i ate it up. i would sometimes over-play the physical manifestations of my disability, like walking with a limp or holding my arm closer to my body, because i knew even as a child that this would get me attention and extra gum or candy from little old ladies.

As i got older and started wanting independence, inside i was feeling frustrated that i wasn't allowed to do things, or at least given the opportunity to try, on my own. i remember when i first demanded to be allowed to go over to a friend's house by myself, instead of having my brother walk me over. She only lived 4 houses up from us, but my mama stood on our front porch watching me until i got to the door and knocked.

She was truly terrified i would fall & kill myself. Her over-protectiveness stifled me, but i've never held it against her because she didn't know any better. When i was first diagnosed with CP, at 6 months old, the doc told her that i would never walk, talk or know who she was and that the best thing to do would be to put me in an institution and visit every week (this was in 1967, and was the accepted prognosis and placement for babies born with CP and gawd only knows what other physical disabilities). She didn't do that, thank goodness.

When i got my first job, in fast food, almost daily customers would ask what was wrong with me. That took getting used to, lemme tell ya. When it first happened, i didn't know what the lady was even talking about, and just looked at her she finally said, "your arm, honey...what's wrong with it?" i would answer the question then get the same response every.single.time. A look on their face full of pity for me, and "bless your heart, you are so brave!". i came to loathe those words. Why was i so brave?? Because i was working?? Because i was trying to be "normal"??

i wore a brace on my left leg from infancy to the age of 12. i stopped the day i fell in a mud puddle at school and couldn't stand back up because the soles of the shoes were slick (back then there was one choice in style of shoes that could have a brace made into it...the old granny-looking dress shoe with no tread on the bottom. The metal brace was built into the shoe itself). That is still my most embarrassing moment ever....nothing like being a teen and having your peers standing around you laughing because you looked like their own personal Laurel & Hardy routine.... continually slipping & falling back in the mud over & over. i finally crawled out of the puddle onto the grass and was able to stand.

Damon, i completely get the grieving what you never had thing. i've never had full use of my left side, and i grieved that for years, usually in the form of self-pity. i really would love to know what it's like to do things with 2 hands at the same time. But, i also personally believe that people who developed their disability/ies vs being born with them have it worse than me. i think it would be emotionally harder to have to deal with knowing what it used to be like to function and having to relearn how to do things.

i lived on campus and attended a college for people with physical disabilities in Virginia, and became friends with several people with TBI's. It took me some time to learn why most of them were so very outspoken and occasionally down right rude and mean. Here, when i am aware that a poster has a TBI, i do tend to "read" what they're saying with a different lens, and i do tend to try & process what's being said through that lens. i don't "excuse" them when it's a snarky or whatever post, but i am aware that the TBI could have some impact on it.

Come to think of it...maybe if i granted everyone that same lens in reading their posts, i might not automatically get offended or angry about stuff?

SF, i loved this: >>I guess I am just really invested in being the same as you. and you. and you. I know I am always going to be differently abled, but there are parts of me that CAN be the same. That can only happen if my consequences are the same, and my personal accountability is the same.<< i agree and feel the same. i really appreciate it when i am treated the same as others until i prove i am not, or ask for help.

Also....i wonder how much depression becomes a secondary diagnosis to the original disability, and what part it plays in the process of growing, accepting, learning new ways to function & cope? Like when Ezee was talking about his friend not acting on any of the help Ezee offered. i immediately thought "maybe the person is/was depressed?"