“You’ve lost weight!”
“You look good!” “You look skinny!” Stop. I didn’t ask. I know I’ve lost weight. I’m allowed to have my feelings about that, but unless I bring it up in conversation and somehow make it clear that I want your opinion on my body- please, keep it to yourself. This applies to everyone, all of the time. Whether or not someone has lost weight on purpose in a healthy way, their beauty and value have not changed. Acting as if it did is toxic, especially for people already struggling with unhealthy eating habits/anxieties (something you may not be aware of). Skinny does not equal healthy any more than fat equals unhealthy. I lost weight because I went from being in a wheelchair with almost no exercise for six months to suddenly walking and exercising this spring. I also had a life-threatening infection in my leg that had been trying to kill me for a year and a half before anyone realized it was there. I had three surgeries and spent five weeks in the hospital between late October 2019 and early February 2020. I was on intense IV antibiotics for months, medication that made me tired and nauseous constantly. I am still on some antibiotics and it is still messing up my stomach. The reason I am not eating as much isn’t because “I’m trying,” it’s because I was sick and am still getting better. None of the reasons I forget to eat are healthy. Some days, I don’t get hungry, so I have to be reminded to eat. There are days when even the thought of eating makes me feel sick to my stomach. But neither of those compare to the worst reason I wasn’t eating- it only lasted a few days, but it was terrifying and the reason I am writing this post- I didn’t want to. I liked hearing those comments I know are toxic. People had stopped calling me beautiful, had stopped calling my body anything but “strong,” a long time ago. Finally hearing those things- even though I knew they were rooted in harmful expectations of women and misogyny the speakers don’t realize they were brainwashed by- felt good. They made it easy to slip back into a dangerous narrative of “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.” NO. NOPE. STOP IT, WHIT. Food is fuel. Wanting to lose weight is fine as long as you do it through healthy lifestyle changes in diet and exercise. Withholding food is a slippery slope. I caught myself and asked for help and worked through it. For that, I feel lucky. I have friends who have not had such ease. I tried to talk to my GP about my concern over my (at times alarming) decreased appetite. Do you know what he, a grown man with a medical degree said to me, an 18-year-old girl? “I wish I had that problem.” Then, he laughed. And that’s the story of how he lost most of the respect I had for him. I am writing this hoping to reach two groups of people (and those who might fit in both categories):
1 Comment
Every Monday through Thursday, I go to school. I park in the parking garage, take the elevator to the second floor from wherever I am, roll less than 300 yards into the building, 100 yards more to the elevators, go up, and both my classrooms are right outside the elevator doors. This is an extremely short trip with only a few minutes ever actually standing near anyone. I want to emphasize how little time it takes me. And yet, without fail, someone always asks me “What happened to your leg?”
Or, “Are you okay?” “I hurt my leg once.” “Is it broken?” “How long have you been in the wheelchair?” “How long until you can walk again?” No one ever says “hello” to me anymore. On Tuesday, we were working in partners in math class. It was nice, I ended up with someone I’d spoken to before who I liked. So, I wouldn’t have minded a question about my legs from him as much as from a total stranger, hell, I expected it. I noticed him staring at my foot propped up on the leg of the wheelchair and tried to focus on the worksheet. But, I was waiting for it. “Are those All Birds?” he asks, “I’m thinking about getting some.” I’m not quite ready to write about everything concerning my leg braces devices. For me, the story includes the reason I got hurt, all of those months in the hospital, the first year (plus some) of physical therapy, learning about the ExoSyms, being told I was a candidate, the fundraiser, the planning and anticipation, traveling, Seattle, training, and, and, and… I keep forgetting that it has only been 84 days since I got them (2 month 23 days). They are helping me for than I could have ever imagined. I will have to go a few days without them next week and I’m scared. They changed my life. I legitimately forgot what it was not like to be in constant pain. So much so that when my mother used ask if I was hurting, I would have to think about it. I’d ask myself, is this an unusual amount of pain? My internal pain meter was starting to lose accuracy. When I put on the devices and walk, it is like I am flying. There are things I have to work on, sure. For instance, I’m jogging (which is crazy), but only after warming up, I can’t do it spontaneously, yet. When I walk, I have to make sure I’ve adjusted my body correctly (eg. I have to remember to bend my knees), but after that, I barely have to think about anything at all. It’s pure magic. It’s not that I never hurt anymore, let’s be clear, but now my pain usually has a reason. It is because I walked around a lot or went to PT. I’d say my pain has decreased overall (aside from anomalies) 80%, if I’m being generous. That has given me more energy and time, every day. The fact that I will be wearing the ExoSyms indefinitely has only recently started to hit me. Sure, technology will advance, and maybe something new that could help me will come along twenty years from now. But, at this moment, this is my forever. I kick myself when I think about this because I’m lucky. Before my forever looked a hell of a lot worse. At the same time, I’ve already found myself getting annoyed because it feels like it takes a long time to get ready, now; or because it is hot; or that I have not found a way to convince myself I can ever look sexy again (as if I ever did before, lol). Maybe that is why I didn’t fully let myself realize this permanentness before getting them. Sometimes, it feels like there is so much to think about [these braces], but, other times, it feels natural, so that's that. This is just how it is, and it’s my new normal. I wanted to write this, partially, as a thank you to everyone who helped me get to where I am today, that is, mobile and wearing Calvin and Hobbes,* and me saying that the trouble was worth it. These devices have absoluetly changed my life. A Timeline
I could go on and on and on. Some achievements I’ve written down next to the date and a lot of exclamation marks, and others happen over a longer period of time. One thing that has happened many, many times since the beginning is that I’ve fallen down. And I’ve gotten myself back up, every time. I didn’t cry as much as I thought I would when I put the braces on for the first time. No, the tears came the next day. Let me stop to say that I respect the hell out of physical therapists- yes, even when I think I hate them a little- because the good ones always know that you can do more than you think you can. Jared is one of the good ones. I watched while he built me an obstacle course from things from all over the room. I was sure that I was going to die, but his confidence in me never wavered. When I climbed onto the first box, I just stopped and stared. The end was far (feeling farther by the second) away, at the other end of the room. There was a zip-line thing that I could hold onto for support, but the floor was lava. Without my new ExoSyms, there would have been no way I would have ever be able to do this. But, since I had them, I had to wonder. I had to believe in myself. And, so, I did. For a good three minutes. Then, near the end, I was short in making a step from one box to the other and fell. Don’t worry, I landed on my feet. Jared had to catch me, and I practically gave myself a second concussion by smashing the heavy handle of the support into my face, but I landed on my feet. I had to stop and breathe. Because I could breathe. I looked around and noticed my racing heart. Then, I reminded myself that I was here, and I could breathe. Then, I stepped back up and tried again. And I finished that damn obstacle course. So, that’s when I really cried. Because I had just done That.
On my GoFund Me: ExoSym for Whit[EDITED FOR BLOG] I am shutting down my GoFundMe page, but it doesn’t end here. You can follow me on Instagram
@walking.take2 for future updates. I am posting videos of all of this craziness because I just cannot put it into words. I made a mini documentary of myself and called it, "Learning to Live Again." Feel free to share. It was my first video project! Note: the word disabled describes a person while handicaps are obstacles that affect disabled people.
You may not think of bathrooms as a major issue, but have you ever had to pee in a public place? No one likes it, but if you have to go you have to go. These are some things my perfect bathroom would have. I am NOT speaking for all people with disabilities.
Little things make a big difference when you need them. You probably don’t notice them if you don’t, and that’s okay. It doesn’t make you a bad person in anyway. When you learn about a struggle someone or a group of people may have that you don’t, they probably don’t need your pity. My advice would be to simply not ignore the problem or decide not to care at all. Speak up when you are in a position of privilege and can help someone, but be mindful not to steal their voices. Do what you can. If you don’t see any actions you can take, just educate yourself and be kind. Doors are heavy, so the open-door buttons were imperative if I wanted to get anywhere by myself for a long time. I could write a book on all of the loopholes people fall into legally and all the people trying to end ADA and cut costs that drastically affect disabled people. I don’t want to get into that, but at the very least I think we can all educate ourselves a little more. I hear the people saying changes are expensive. So what? Aren’t we worth it? Also, not in bathrooms, but literally everywhere else: please, I need chairs. I will be dying in a store and there is nowhere to go. Outside, in general. Anywhere to take a break. Please. This is not only for people with physical disabilities. So many people benefit from smarter bathrooms. Maybe not all or any of the things on my list, but I know that parents (especially traveling alone with their child of the opposite sex) and people caring for older adults often have similar problems with accessibility. I don’t have all of the answers, but there are people out there working on legislation and inventions to ease these struggles or eradicate them completely. And to them, I say thank you, you are doing something important. Update: Sorry I have not been as active... school started! Everything is going great and I am working on a lot.
Something happened today that I never thought would happen again. I mean, I did it for the first time yesterday. But, it was a fluke, I told myself, it was nothing. It was surreal. I never even let myself write this on my PT goals or year long goals or even my bucket list. Even after the doctors said I should be able to, I never really believed it. I rode 1.6 miles in about 15 minutes. On a bicycle. By myself. It was crazy! I was going as fast as I can, just to feel that air. You wouldn't recognize me when I'm riding. Just like, I'm seen differently if I happen to be sitting in the room someone enters vs. they watch me walk. It is just the way it is right now. BUT I RODE MY BIKE. I remember when I was a kid and we would try to run as side ways was as we could against the steepest hill on the playground. Now, I usually need to walk in the middle of the road because I will fall at the slightest tilt.
I will never run on the side of a hill again. I can barely handle ramps off curbs, and I usually avoid them at all costs. Realizations like this, that something, good or bad, will be forever can be daunting. Infinity can stare you in the face until you want to crack.
There are some personal infinite moments I see in my life. Think of some of yours. The good ones too. I often hear about how much control we have over our own lives. But, a lot of that is BS because we don’t always. And that is that. See what you can change, and why you want to change it. Don’t make the same mistake twice. Do the stupid thing. Eat too much. Ask her out. Learn to skateboard if you want. Because through all that- you’ll be living. And you only get one chance. So, build the life you want, but it will take time. I write down things I accomplish like walking across the library, holding a stack of 8 or more books, with no support. I stood with no shoes (I’m not really supposed to, so shh) and figured out I can touch my palms to the floor and feet together. I note good things that happen like getting French tips done on my nails, playing BananaGrams using only nouns, or just the fact that I’ve been home from the hospital for more than 100 days. Some things are infinite. The universe can’t understand human limits. And that is beautiful sometimes. I’m giving myself a fresh start because whatever I was doing before was not working. At this point, I’m willing to try anything. Whether or not you think it is “hocus pocus” or only radiating a complete placebo effect. I can share what helps me with people in similar situations, but I can’t guess what will work for them. And I expect the same respect back.
I broke a lot of bones. Bilateral fractures in both feet (as in, I have metal holding me together now), left wrist, skull puncture wound, and back. Now this isn’t me granting a wish for a pity party. All those bones healed perfectly except for some very important pieces in my left leg. I am stable for now, but if it doesn’t heal, that’s asking for surgery. It wasn’t out of the picture from the beginning because of multiple infections in that area that caused significant damage even to the bone. Do not ask me if I have tried calcium. Because I have and physical therapy and an ultrasound machine to support bone growth and all the other vitamins and protein. So, please, keep your WebMD to yourself. I have a team of hard-working surgeons on my case, and I am not afraid of never seeing success. Please don’t assume my stress is out of control, for I haven’t told you that, and tell me that acupuncture is the only cure. I’m glad you found something for you. I don’t want to be told again and again to go get a massage. I’m exercising and getting outside enough, thank you. My depression may not be cured by whatever helps you. I need medicine to stabilize chemicals in my brain that I’m just genetically missing, and I’m okay with that. Yes, I need therapy, and I shouldn’t be ashamed. She is intelligent and helps me find ways to process through things. I’m during neurofeedback and it is showing results, but it may not for everyone. I am doing everything I can, all at once, because I am not willing to let myself refuse help. Maybe I only need one thing, doubtful, but maybe some is unnecessary. Let me redecorate my room and watch funny YouTube videos and do the things I know helps me right now. This is also a note to anyone who may need it. I passed by a mirror today and my bangs were up a little.
There has been talk about the strength in scars. About finding beauty in your own. I really appreciate, not the romanticization, but the acceptance and reality with self-harm scars. But will you take my ugly ones? The dent in my forehead? The obvious glitch in the ordinary. Or, at the very least, one of the many. Can you look me in the eye with that and still call me beautiful? It wrinkles my skin. It’s still new and it’s pink. Can you handle that? Because that one gives me no strength. Its story holds no glory. That too, is ugly. It doesn’t matter. I need to. Scars show a place of hurt, a place where you only grew back stronger. This one of mine shows an injury where I could have died. And perhaps, should have. Most people don’t need to know that. I don’t need any proof, whether you expect hardship, trauma, or even comedy. I don’t need your judgment. I don’t need you to decide I’m “still” pretty. I’m a goddess, goddammit. I’m smart and I love painting my nails. I have cool hair and I like word games. But… again, I don’t need any proof. Beauty doesn’t define a person. You don’t have to be pretty to deserve respect. And I think not pointing out someone’s scar (especially if they are obviously trying to hide it), make fun of it, or decide on your own assumptions makes that list. Late last year I got really hurt. As in, multiple surgeries and in the hospital for 117 days. I've been in physical therapy for months. I had to learn to walk all over again. Needing a special shoe on one foot, and a knee brace on the other leg. It's been hard. But, little by little, I've made progress. This past week it's gotten harder in a different way. I started with nothing. Today I was standing on a mat that was already hard to balance on and using on of those 'BodyBlades' (shown in photo). It was ridiculously difficult and I fell a lot. My physical therapist was there, so I didn't get hurt, I just lost my balance and was suddenly looking at my feet. And that was amazing. The first time I faltered, it was terrifying. It was the first time I had been on my own enough to make a mistake like that. Before it was four people to help me turn on my side. And now I was on my own. Standing and holding weight and through in some balance and core to go along with it. Just because because it is harder... you have to take a step back to look at your comparisons. |
Who Am I?Hi there! I'm Whit, my pronouns are they/them, and I write a lot.
Learn more about me here :) Click the button to read my poetry. Categories
All
All posts since April 2018 tagged at least once.
Archives
April 2021
Header
Painting by Whit Acrylics on masonite April 20th, 2019 Words are a Quaker saying. George Fox? |