Bedtime Stories: Pirates


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Mom, he won’t leave us alone!

What’s he doing?

He’s messing with our boat!

The swing boat? I see.

We told him to stop, but he won’t listen.

Oh no…sounds like you have a pirate problem.

Will you tell him to stop?

I need a little more information first. Does he have both legs?

Duh! Mommmm…

Is he wearing an eye patch?

Mom stop, he isn’t a pirate.

Well then, I’ll just let you two sort it out.

Okay, okay, he’s a pirate, will you tell him to stop?

Sure,
but…
uh oh,
this might be a problem…

What? What now?

Pirates don’t listen to their mommies.

Confidently Broken


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My husband and I were talking the other day, and he mentioned that several positive experiences we have had within the past few years were an indirect of the confidence I’ve gained since being in a wheelchair.

Wait, confidence, from being in a wheelchair?

I had to think about it. I’ve always been insecure/low self-esteem/whatever.

When I first started needing assistance walking, it was difficult…ok, devastating. I cried a lot. I hated walking across an open room. I held on to walls for balance. I tried using a cane, but never was very good at it. Finally, I began to accept the fact that I needed a wheelchair.

When I first started using a wheelchair, I was a little self-conscious, but the ability to go from one side of my kids school to the other was nice. I didn’t have to constantly plan where I would sit, that was close to a wall, and not in everyone’s way. I didn’t worry about the amount of time it would take to hobble to the restrooms at church. Wheelchairs are a lot faster.

I started taking my kids on “walks” once we got a ramp and I could bring my powerchair outdoors. We went everywhere. We still do. :)

I used to walk, run, slide down the banister at college, literally walked about 4 miles when I couldn’t get a ride to work one day…

Thing is, I’ve always been independent, but maybe I am more confident since being in the chair. I still have all my old insecurities, plus some new ones (atrophy, bladder issues, etc.); but I know I can survive.

I know that there will always be people “better” in some way. That’s true for all of us. I know that I’m capable of more than I would have imagined. So are you. I know that regardless of how much makeup I put on, how much I tone my abs, and how cute my hair is; I’m still in a wheelchair and you know what? That’s okay.

I still have lots of bad days, and plenty of pity parties, but could it be that I am stronger now than I was before I became disabled? I’m starting to think so. Hopefully I can dance while rolling down the street and show people you don’t have to be “perfect” to be happy. Hopefully I can show my kids that life is to be lived for all of us. Broken bodies don’t have to equate to broken spirits.

Today I’m going to live. I’m going to “walk” the dogs to my kids school. I’m going to breathe the fresh spring air and wave at strangers, and maybe even try a few dance moves.

Hope you live today too.

Confession?


I’m not sure what exactly this is, but this morning I felt good. Happy, for no reason. If any of you were writing that, I’d say that is a good thing, but with me, I’m not sure.

I don’t typically get happy. I’m more of a somber person in general. Always have been, which is why I noticed it was weird that I was happy. There is a possibility I’m over-thinking this, but what should I do? I took my kids to school and have accomplished some stuff, but I’m scared.

If I was happy for no reason, does that mean soon I’m going to be more depressed, emotional, angry for no reason? I don’t understand what would make me feel happy. I mean, life is good. I know that, but I don’t usually feel it. This is stupid to be writing about. I know that much, but I don’t care.

Anyway, I don’t know what I’m doing. Sorry for this post, I wont blame anyone for unfollowing me. It’s just weird. I’m concerned my hormones are out of whack, or something’s off, but maybe it’s normal. Do people wake up and move around and feel happy for no particular reason?

Truly Naked and Afraid


Love.

Simple four letter word.

Powerful aphrodisiac and repellant at the same time.

Teenage fantasy, elderly heartbreaker.

Songs proclaim it, flowers display it, some of us fear it…

Beautiful surrender, or violent takeover; it comes to conquer, and that it does.

I began to prepare when I learned of love’s true nature. I built walls and armored myself. I waited and in doing so, my defenses rusted. It invaded, captured my heart, altered my life, and now keeps me chained.

I’m chained to a fairy tale wish of happily ever after. Bound by unfathomable love for my kids. Desperately clinging to my husband’s love, while every ounce of my strength pushes him away.

I don’t want him to love me, yet I do. I don’t trust love. It is often pity in disguise. I hate it. I don’t know how to handle it, navigate it, express it. I want to escape it. Life would be simpler. Happier? I don’t deserve love. It is destroying me. Or is it the fight that’s causing my ruin? I feel trapped and lost at the same time.

Is this all in my head? Over thinking again? It’s exhausting, and I’m losing whatever I’m trying to hold on to.i don’t even know what that is anymore. Does anyone else feel these things? I’m bringing a whole new meaning to “naked and afraid”. Honesty, openness, is true nudity, and it appears I’m leading the club. Anyone following should know that I have no idea where I’m going.

Move Music


I need help making a good playlist of songs I can dance to in my wheelchair. I also need to learn some moves that will look like I’m dancing, vs. having spasms while I’m rolling around town.

Some that I’m thinking are “Happy”, the one I posted yesterday, “party rock”? I’m not sure, but I’d love any suggestions for songs or moves, or both. Pharrell Williams has some basic arm moves for his song, but I really suck at dancing. Even when I could walk I couldn’t dance.

Honestly


Can I just get real here for a second and vent?

My blog right? Ok.

Sometimes, like today, I feel like my whole life was designed for someone else.

I have beautiful, happy, healthy kids. My husband is handsome and charming and works his ass off for his family. We have a great house with plenty of room for everyone, and even our dogs are almost as great as having a cat would be…

Then there’s me. I rarely go into half of our house, cause its upstairs and I have to scoot/crawl/etc. to get up there. I can’t teach my kids to ride a bike, or do lots of other stuff that requires working legs. My husband deserves a sexy wife, not one with shriveled up legs and currently a swollen eyelid (my body doesn’t like me, so it attacks in all sorts of ways).

I’m hurting, probably hormonal, and just whiny in general, but sometimes I’m so tired of fighting. This life wasn’t designed for people like me. My family deserves better.

Alright, enough of a pity party. I’m here right? Got to suck it up and do the best I can. I’m trying to be brave, but I desperately fear being useless. Okay, here’s some motivation…

One day I will do this, and I’ll be sure to write about it too. If I’m in a perfect position to do anything in this life, it’s to flash dance in my wheelchair while riding around town.

Forgotten


thehobbler:

Read this.

Originally posted on The Musings of a Digital Vagabond:

This is the internationally recognized symbol ...

This is the internationally recognized symbol for accessibility (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This is actually a piece that I had written some time ago, but I felt it wasn’t as well exposed, so I thought I’d give  it to you guys one more time this friday, maybe this will make it into the gimpy monologues also…

I belong to a land that time has long since forgotten,
a land filled with hospitals, metal cages, and rooms full of invalids.
I come from a life whose prognosis was always grim,
and now that things have changed,
I mingle amongst the people who think that I’ve lost my mind, that I am somehow deranged.
The metal cages are gone, the rooms full of invalids have disappeared,
and invisible walls have come to take their place.
Looked upon with a mild neglect, I have never found nor experienced true love.
The streets are filled…

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