Sunday, January 12

muttering in public


Today I was sitting in the car with Wolfgang my pup, our windows all the way down to prevent us from melting. I saw a six foot man with a protruding tummy coming down the street. He was wearing a polo shirt tucked thoroughly into faded navy track pants. The trackpants were pulled almost up to his chest, with the cords hanging out. I could see that he was talking to himself, and as he passed my window I caught what he was saying.

“My disability.”

Then there was silence. A few seconds later,

“My disability.”

Silence.

I just sat there feeling stunned and sad. I wished he had been singing to himself, or muttering about the beautiful weather – but he was pondering his and society’s perception of himself. I wanted to go and tell him that he was great just as he was, that he didn’t need to sweat it. I wished he didn’t even know he had a disability, that he could accept himself without a label.

I found it hard to forget him, hard to see him so internally disturbed by this view of himself. Then it was dawned on me that I was just like him. In my head, a hundred times a day I mutter,

“My disability.”

I say it when I wake up and face the day at home, and when I get weak cleaning the bathroom, when someone asks me what I do, and when I send another message saying ‘no’ or ‘less’.

I’m painfully acutely aware that I am abnormal, and that people aren’t into abnormal. I absolutely dread that moment of discovery in conversation: that I am disabled.

I wished most for the man not that he was able bodied {I do wish that too}, but that he could walk down the street unconcerned by difference or disability. I just wanted him to embrace being him without all the fear. I wish that for myself. I see all the ‘can'ts’ and ‘no longers’ and ‘abnormals’ and the thought that my life is less valuable than another’s is like a load of lead. Just imagine if the whole motley bunch of us mostly ailed humans stopped adding the requirement of seeming ‘normal’ and simulating ‘ideal’ to our diverse issues.


I think if I lived within the boundaries which allow me to function somewhat pain free, and let go of all the “Help, I don’t have a career!  Help, I’m a social failure!  Help, people must judge me because I can’t do things!” I’d stand a chance at less misery, more joy, more living. I want to live the life that I lead at peace with the path I am on. Enough with the muttering, more of the appreciating, loving, giving and receiving grace.   


5 comments:

  1. Hi Danielle,

    As I was reading your posts (I read a few down too) I was reminded of an image that was described today in our sermon at church. The minister (a visiting one) said, that at one time in Scotland if there was a sheep that was prone to wander that the shepherd would break the wandering sheep's leg, then carefully mend it and then carry the sheep wherever he went. After time, the sheep's leg would mend and when the shepherd put the sheep back down the sheep would no longer wander because of the deep bond that had been formed to the shepherd. I love this image. In some way or another we are all wandering sheep. I nor anyone, knows the specific why's of things happening to us that are stinkin' hard, but I do know that the good Shepherd does carry us, and binds up our wounds, and in the process, we, by His grace, bond to Him. I admire your desire to rest in His arms, and I pray for the courage to live out your time in His arms, trusting His deep love and care for you.

    :) melissa m. (ps really great to see you at the ballet a few weeks ago)

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    1. Thankyou for telling me that story Melissa! I have been thinking of it frequently since I read it - it is so beautiful and poignant. It seems so cruel, so incredibly painful, but it's done with love. Amazingly apt illustration! It was so lovely to see you after so long at the ballet - I saw you little cherub dancing, she oozed joy. Much love x

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    2. But of course not all suffering is the result of wandering from the shepherd (see e.g. Job)

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  2. Danielle, I think you need to consider writing a book. You write so beautifully, and you show what you are going through so well. Many would benefit from a book written by you. Even if you just used your amazing blogs and then added in bits in between.
    I would buy many copies! xxxx

    Love you, so proud of you

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    1. Oh Lauren, thanks for your niceness, and reading this, and getting it! We would have to co-write I think. Xx

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