Cancer and the D-Word

The "D" Word

A well respected and wise educator once said to me, “Sometimes there is the need to put words to paper. It makes them more real even if you do nothing with them.” A little while later, in a workshop, the same person leads a group of educators to the conclusion of what should happen to those real words after being put to paper. The finding, as I can best summarize, that as writers we tend to want to keep our words on the paper to ourselves, however, it brings more significant value to our understanding of those words to let them go out into the universe.  Furthermore, in doing so, we have the unique ability to unknowingly touch the lives of others we didn’t know may have needed them.  So here I am, putting my words to a medium and then letting them go out into the universe.

I am disabled. Admitting disability has been difficult to say aloud or write out because I have refused to believe it. I have been of the mindset that I can overcome any obstacle with sheer willpower. From a young age it was ingrained in me that anything I get, I earn through hard work. So to give in to my weak flesh is something I feel shame about doing. Even the insurance companies and such have me feel ashamed of it as if I am making it all up.

My most significant hurdle it turns out is the negative beliefs I have about being called disabled over the proof and science behind it. Much like a flat-earther, science has no place in a mind made up. The part of the brain where belief resides doesn’t care if the same brain is signaling pain regularly to a missing extremity. It doesn’t bother that the same brain is sending distress triggers from a collection of random sounds, it doesn’t bother that the nerves surrounding a place where lymph nodes once resided flare up with tension. Why should I be allowed not to work and make things difficult financially? Why should I concentrate on my health when so many others are unable to? Why should I receive assistance when there are others who take advantage of the system?

So This is Me

The answer to all those questions? I am disabled. I am slowly coming to terms with it. It helped after being haggled by insurance companies that according to the government standards for disability I meet over seven of their requirements. It helps to come to terms with is talking to those around me. I have been shutting myself in at home of my own accord because I have it in my head that if I am well enough to go to the store or the lakefront I should be well enough to work. However, it is not the same. I can stop those kinds of things whenever I please. A job would be long hours of standing, sitting, walking, concentrating, etc. that I am no longer able to do.

So this is me, not asking for sympathy, not looking for justification. This is me admitting on paper, and out into the universe...

I am disabled