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It taints everything it touches
Written by Sean on Sunday, February 11, 2007
It pops in my mind out of nowhere, shoving existing thoughts aside and making itself known. How I wish it was different, but it is my reality, day after day, hour after hour, minute after minute, year after bloody year, decades going.
- I wake up in the morning, and I think about how things would be different if I were paraplegic.
- I take a shower, and I think about it.
- I go to the grocery store, and I think about it.
- I load my wheelchair in the car, and I think about it.
- I move about in a crowd, and I think about it.
- I transfer from my wheelchair to the car, and I think about it.
- I get myself in bed, and I think about it.
- I wash dishes, and I think about it.
- I prepare dinner, and I think about it.
- I get in the recliner to watch tv, and I think about it.
- I go to the pharmacy, and I think about it.
- I fill up the car with petrol, and I think about it.
- I prepare a bath, and I think about it.
- I take a bath, and I think about it.
- I feed the dogs, and I think about it.
- I interact with complete strangers, and I think about it.
- I interact with friends and acquaintances, and I think about it.
- I do nothing, and I think about it.
- I make arrangements for travelling, and I think about it.
- I select a restaurant, and I think about it.
- I work in the garden, and I think about it.
- I read, and I think about it.
- I walk, and I think about it.
- I wheel, and I think about it.
- I move around on the couch, and I think about it.
- I feel aches and pains in my legs, and I think about it.
- It’s the last thing I think about before falling asleep.
- It’s the first thing I think about after waking up.
- It invades my dreams, and my nightmares.
- It even taints our lovemaking.
- And the list… just… goes… on… and on… and on…
And the worst thing is, I can’t help it, I can’t shake it. I try and distract myself, but invariably, it comes back. My faithful enemy. I’ve been held hostage so long, I’ve befriended the enemy.
Yeah, it sure feels like an obsession. Too bad it can’t be handled like OCD, huh?
It eats such a huge part of my life, it is a world of its own, I must split my energies, split between controling the wannabe thoughts, keeping somewhat functioning and actually functioning. And it’s hard.
Booo-f*cking-Hooo
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Tags: BIID, Obsession, OCD, Paralysed, Paraplegic, Transabled, Wannabe, Wheelchair
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8 Comments
2 On 11 February, 2007, Sean said:
Yeah, that’s pretty much what I mean. Ohh, I guess there are moments where I’m not overwhelmed by thinking how different it would be. And it doesn’t hurt as bad when I *am* wheeling. But by and large, it’s relentless.
And yes, it’s exhausting. I wrote a bit about it here http://transabled.org/thoughts/living-life-is-exhausting.htm though that post also focuses on depression.
Kind of makes me think twice about getting a chair. It seems like a chair is buying a precious few moths or years in some cases of freedom. After that though things go back to normal, and then to getting progressively more intrusive. I don’t think it will stop me from buying one, but it makes me think.
4 On 11 February, 2007, Sean said:
Well rorsach, the thing is, without having the chair, it would be unbearable. With the chair, I can at least survive through my days.
The thing is, everyone’s journey is different. It’s not because *I* am having it harder as I grow older, as time goes by, that you necessarily will. Although I must admit, anecdotal evidence seems to indicate that it gets indeed worse with time.
5 On 11 February, 2007, Marie said:
Nothing can be repressed forever. Eventually it must be dealt with.
Moving forward isn’t always easy, but it’s always beneficial in the long run.
6 On 11 February, 2007, Sean said:
Marie, yes, you’re right. But… Tell me… Just *what* is the way forward? The only way out of this miasma, for me, is to be a para. There are no real ways to accomplish that.
It’s part of what makes it even more frustrating. As a transsexual, you would know there is a way out, even if it takes patience and mucho $$. As a transabled individual, there isn’t.
*shrug*
7 On 11 February, 2007, Marie said:
Yeah, that is a tough rub. One place where the similarities diverge, unfortunately.
I’m very much aware of the overwhelmingness of the transabled condition, as the thoughts of it inflict themselves on our every action. Every single thing that I do, from the time I wake up, until the time I go to bed - and even the way I sleep - would be different if I were to have my body adjusted to the condition with which I would be comfortable. As such, it becomes impossible to put it out of my mind. I’ve heard others suggest that the ‘obsession’ with the condition should be treated with OCD treatments, which strikes me as a clear demonstration of complete lack of understanding of the condition we face.
I draw comparison to the inverse of my condition: If it would be considered unreasonable for one who has lost her arms to just go on as though the condition didn’t affect her, then why is it seen as reasonable to expect me to go on with my own arms present as if it were something that I could just ignore? Truth be told, I’d be more than happy to donate my own arms to someone who needs or wants them. They can transplant a kidney, at great risk to both donor and recipient; yet they can’t (and won’t even consider as reasonable to) transplant a limb from one who neither wants nor needs it, to someone else who does. Why?
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1 On 11 February, 2007, jen said:
Oh man. You mean there’s never a minute in your day when you’re just in the chair and that’s all there is to it?
Oh man. That must be exhausting.