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Home / Stories / Personal Histories / Other's Stories / The Wee Years

The Wee Years

Written by Marisa on Sunday, July 29, 2007

Thirty one years into my well-rounded life I look back at some of my first memories and recall the need to be disabled. I remember grabbing my father’s “gout” crutches and resting my armpits where a grown-up’s hands would normally be. I used to sneak sessions consisting of seconds to minutes as a child who needed crutches. I had true guilt over what I was doing, yet I couldn’t seem to pull my eyes away from the crutches whenever they were in sight.

Not long after my crutching experiences I began tucking my legs under me and pulling on a pair of sweatpants. I would walk myself around the house on my hands as if I was legless. I enjoyed every minute of my playtime, but of course quickly slipped my legs through the holes as soon as I heard the slightest sound.

I progressed onto situations where I grabbed pieces of kindling and tied them to my wrists with a thin cotton rope, so that I couldn’t bend my wrists. I played that way for a while, but of course had to take it to the next step. I moved onto my foot and did the same thing. This time I had the desire for my foot to look disfigured. I would pull out about 6 pairs of socks and place one over the other until my foot resembled something like its former self. Once again I felt completely guilty especially when I spotted my first disabled person.

I was riding the bus home from school one day when at a “rival” elementary school I noticed a boy shooting a basketball. He stood in the same place, and it was a very good reason… he had leg braces and a leg spreader. The man playing basketball with him would rebound the ball and pass it back towards the boy. Right then and there I found my first true love… his disability. Every ride home I would perk up as we pulled up to the school hoping to see him on his forearm crutches. I honestly don’t remember what his face looked like because all I was interested in was his legs. I was in heaven until I got to middle school and then everything changed; I found my destiny.

Sitting in one of my classes I was introduced to a new and exciting series of sounds: screech, click, slight pause, screech, click, slight pause, screech, click, slight pause… you get the picture. The thin boy came through the door slowly with a walker and a very precarious gait. It was if his arms and legs were toothpicks. I noticed how he couldn’t control his hands at the wrists, or even move his fingers. I watched him carefully while the teacher helped him into his desk. When he went to write notes he would squeeze his pencil between his wrists and attempt to write. He was very slow, very disabled and I totally desired to be him. He was my first experience with a quadriplegic.

As the years went by the rest of us got taller and went through a lot of physical changes; he didn’t. He stayed very small and extremely disabled. There were times where I wanted to strike up conversations, but of course he would become his rude and perverted self before long which totally turned me off. Sometimes I wonder if he was that rude out of anger.

By the time we hit our senior year he was using a scooter because he was falling more and more. On one instance he fell so hard that his thin ankle bone snapped. It took a long time for the cast to come off, but I remember sneaking a peek at his curled over toes and desiring them to be my own. I knew that over the years everything I experimented with pointed at one stark realization: I wanted and needed to be a quadriplegic.

I’ve been told that I would hate being a quadriplegic, and possibly even wish myself dead. I’ve been told that I’m sick, psychotic, messed up and a few other things, but when I found out that I wasn’t the only person in the world who felt the desire to be disabled to be whole I knew that I could start accepting. It has been about 12 years since that happened. Things are getting better with my life, but one very large piece of the puzzle is missing: quadriplegia. Until then I’ll only be the transabled woman that I’ve always been, but now with a little less guilt and a lot more hope in achieving my dream someday.

Tags: Quadriplegic, Paralysed, Transabled, Disabled

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