Facing My Fears

Note - My book, ANYWHEN, tackles the subjects of fear, anxiety, and cyber-bullying with underlying messages I believe with my whole heart: bad things are temporary, you will find your friend group, and you are strong enough to conquer your fears.

“To be seen in this life, truly observed without judgment, is what it feels like to be loved.”

I believe this quote by Cicely Tyson encapsulates humankind’s very essence. Who doesn’t want to be loved for who they are, warts and all? Kindness, as well, is a form of love and something that should be given freely to everyone, regardless of their physical abilities. I cannot speak for others with a disability, but for me, this quote is very apropos.

When I first started using my wheelchair, I wanted to hide from the world. Forget being seen, I prayed for invisibility. If my husband and I went out to eat, I worried that people would stare at us if he had to help me with my utensils, or cut my meat because my muscles were too weak to operate a fork and a knife. Would they—the nebulous, unknown, jeering they—point, laugh, mutter under their breath at my wheelchair status and my absolute audacity to eat in public?

The truth with fears and worries is that for 98 percent of them, they never materialize into fact.

As far as I know, no one has ever muttered, laughed, or pointed at me. Nor have they said a single negative comment about my disability to me (or my husband) at a restaurant. In fact, people are more likely to offer help by doing things like holding the door open, or scooting their chairs in so I can roll by.

Those few moments of connection are truly the only impression I leave on my fellow diners, and I always try to make it with a smile and a “thank you” for their helpful efforts. But once I roll out of people’s peripherals, I’m, thankfully, forgotten. Dinner with their loved ones is vastly more important than watching me eat.

I’ve found this reality freeing, and it’s taken me back to an eleventh grade English class lesson again and again. Our assignment compared Peter Brueghal the Elder’s “Landscape with the Fall of Icarus” to a more modern poem about the 16th century painting.

In it, people go about their own business, plowing their field, tending their sheep, sailing, and fishing. There’s no crowd around the lake where seconds earlier, a man plummeted from the sky, his homemade wax wings melted and useless. There’s only the tiniest of splashes and two rapidly sinking legs. Conclusion: everyone is more focused on what they’re doing than they are with what’s happening in another person’s life, or even at their neighboring table.

Going out to dinner, shopping, and traveling with a disability is challenging. It takes extra planning and extra time, but is so worth the effort. I’ve faced down my old (ridiculous) fears, and realized no one is judging me or others for our wonderful differences.

I’m seen and accepted for who I am, regardless of my disability, and that is a true gift.