transabled.org

I have been rehashing my childhood memories and I have concluded about myself, at least on my amateur level, that I am not the product of learned behaviour.

There were three individuals I remember as a toddler in the area in which we lived. All were wc. users, one was described as a “girl” who was injured in an accident, could not walk and lived with her father. I remember the house had what appeared to be an elaborate ramp. The “girl’ was actually an adult. She drove her own car, and had a job. I never saw her in her wc nor did I see her face. The second was an older man who used his wc as a walker, and I was told he had some rare disease that only a few people in the world had. Another was a lady who lived with her husband and kids on a second foor walk up, whom I was told was also a wc user.

I have never desired to be a wc user, nor do I recall wondering what it would be like not to be able to walk “no matter how hard I tried”.

I was already then fascinated with people on crutches, but the only ones seemed to have leg casts.

Once two painter painted our house, one was a high above elbow arm amputee, and he used his stump to carry his ladder. I wondered if the arm amputation was a prerequisite to becoming a painter for that purpose. His partner did not have a ladder. I wondered if his partner needed to help him wash his hand. I made the decision then NOT to become a painter. I still can not fathom do this day wanting to loose an arm, nor wanting to have a disability that necessitated a wheelchair.

In the same period of time, I saw my first leg amputee. It was a tall man, high AK amputation getting off the bus and walking down the street on crutches. He was tall, wore a suite, and walked very purposely and quickly down the street. I remember him gettig off the bus about the time people would be coming home from work, I deduced he must have been local, but I only saw him twice, and there was never any mention of him. There seemed to be plenty of chatter about the three wc users.

Once I saw this leg amputee, I knew that was it. Up to this point, I do remember wanting to have a broken leg mainly so I would have a reason to be on crutches. Most of my pre teen years centered around the cast fantasy, then the leg amputation idea popped back into my head and never left. I may have been thinking it was somehow easier to get the cast rather than loose the leg.

Cases such as yourself, where there is little exposure to disability during childhood, seem extremely important for understanding the etiology of BIID. A year ago I would have unquestioningly said that my BIID was psychogenic, somehow resulting from almost daily exposure to people with leg braces throughout my childhood. However I have completely changed my mind on this. Part of that change has come about through learning of people as yourself, Sophie, who seem to have such similar feelings to me, yet without that childhood exposure. It now makes much more sense to me that I was just born this way and simply recognised what I needed as a child whenever I saw it.

I also had very little exposure. I recall vividly sighting an older girl in a wheelchair once at a very young age and being acutely envious.
A boy in my year at primary school had lost an arm at the shoulder and he got teased a lot. The mother of a friend had had polio and used a caliper. Much later, a girl in my youth orchestra had only one hand and used a hook to hold her trumpet. Then a female student at my hall of residence who was a double amputee with prosthetic legs and had scarred arms. But she hid it so well hardly anyone actually knew.

That’s about it really.

I remember my grandparents having some sort of hang up with amputees. If they encountered an amputee, or if somebody they knew or heard about some one who underwent an amputation then they would be sure to mention it in conversation.

They would always get this certain, slack jawed idiot look on there face, and sometimes giggle when telling the story. It thought this was some sort of proper, grown up mature adult reaction to the situation. In retrospect, they were just uneducated, country people who let their stupidity show. I think they were very inclined to laugh and make fun of people with disabilities, but knew they should not. Sort of some fiendish pleasure. Perhaps they saw this as a consequence of aging, perhaps what waited for them after their next birthday. Somehow, this made the topic in my mind very taboo, or only something that could be properly comprehended by an adult. This was of course how a young kid responded. Maybe they too had some sort of fascination or perhaps curiosity there mores prevented them from learning about.

Not exactly a good environment for a kid who knew something was different since none of the other kids seemed to be interested in what I was pre-occupied with. Guess I missed out on lots of playing cowboys and Indians.

As a child, whenever I came home with cuts, bruises, or broken bones I was made to feel like I had done something wrong, naughty, and stupid. I tried to hide my injuries as much as possible. I got the impression that my parents felt that way about people with disabilities too; that it was always their own fault.

I remember comments that my parents made about my neighbourhood friend with spina bifida. They said she should have been euthanised at birth. I wanted to be like her. Those comments made me cringe beyond description. It made me feel that my parents would want me dead too if they knew who I really was.

I don’t really remember having a lot of exposure to disabilities either. I remember a friend in preschool who broke her arm, and feeling jealous… Actually, she broke the same arm three times and I remember being really jealous every time. I also have a memory of seeing a person in one of those pool wheelchairs… Actually, I think the first time I was ever really exposed to the concept of paraplegia was reading/watching x-men… I KNOW that the first time I ever heard of quadriplegia was from watching “Murderball” with my dad. Usually when he’d watch a movie, I’d decide it was stupid after about five seconds and go surf the internet, but when he watched “Murderball”, I was instantly hooked. I was amazed and couldn’t stop watching… Afterward I think I even watched the special features on the DVD… ^^;

Murderball was fun :)

I had exposure and I didn’t at the same time. I definitely don’t think that my BIID stems from having been exposed to people with disabilities as a young child. I don’t know the origin of BIID. It might be psychological/learned. It might be neurological. More likely it’s psychoneurological.

But does it really matter *where* it comes from, or *what* it is? The thing is, either way we look at it, the only thing that has shown to help is for people to become disabled.

It seems that the childhood traumatic experience cause of peoples problems is just the latest in mass media driven psychotherapy. All problems are due to a childhood ‘trauma’. I think a lot of people read about this, then buy into it recalling a childhood incident and blaming that for their current situation.

It is as dangerous as the lifestyle adds on American television for prescription medication. I wonder how many people decide they have a certain condition so they can live out the fantasy in the commercial.

I have a very good memory, although some things are fading. If I had some childhood experience that was the cause of this, I would be the first one to admit it.

I do remember at 3 or 4 years of age asking my mother about it, I do not remember her exact reaction, but I do recall it included the usual ridicule when I mentioned something thought to be innapropriate. And, no I do not want to, nor have I taken revenge on my mother.

I don’t think it’s a learned behavior, partly due to my own experiences. As a child, I had little to no exposure to people with disabilities, yet I already felt the need to become paralyzed.

My first “encounter” with disability was actually from an episode of The Wonder Years, where the girlfriend/crush/whatever gets her leg broken and has to hobble around on crutches. I had a habit it taping episodes and watching them a few times before taping over them, but I kept that episode and never taped over it. I didn’t realize why, at the time.

There’s also a classmate of mine who had cerebral palsy, but the only thing different about him was his AFOs, with which he could walk (with a slight limp). Something did stir in me at that time, but it wasn’t paralysis, so it didn’t ring alarm bells inside me.

I actually didn’t have encounters with paraplegics or quadriplegics until I was in my teens. By that time, I already sensed that something was physically “off” about me, but couldn’t figure out what it was. At my high school, there was a classmate with spina bifida; that was my first real exposure to paraplegia, and I remember feeling envious of her. I wanted to be her. At the time, I still couldn’t figure out why I wanted to be her. Looking back, it seems so obvious.

So is BIID something that stems from childhood experiences or “trauma”? I really don’t think so. It would fail to explain why I felt the need to be paralyzed even before I knew what paraplegic was, or what a wheelchair was.

My parents don’t really have a positive view of disability either. They are strong believers in the idea that men should be physically strong and women should be smart. Any deviation from that leads to disaster. To them, if someone has a physical disability, they are more or less useless. It’s somewhat ironic that they still hold this view, since my dad knows a paraplegic lawyer. But then again, my parents do have a bit of ignorance on their end (ie. my dad thinking that a “gay couple” means a gay man dating a lesbian woman).

That’s a fairly common view in asian countries isn’t it Gordo?

All those devo asian movies show it.

I guess it kind of is, Sophie. The disability rights movement hasn’t really taken shape there the same way it has in Western countries (North America, Europe, Oceania).

Another memory just came back, from my toddler years. I remember being at a parade, I saw a man walk across the street with a peg leg. I still remember later that day trying to emulate him by sticking my foot into something cone shaped. It did not work, of course, but I remember really wanting to be like that. I wanted to experience what it felt like.

Interesting improvisation, Ronald.

It also reminds me of the first time I really had exposure to a wheelchair. I think it was shortly after a bunch of classmates found a pool wheelchair during a field trip to the pool, and were fooling around with it. (I think I mentioned that incident in my intro post, here on TA.org.) I would then spend nights (when my parents thought I was asleep) cutting pieces of cardboard to a wheelchair-like shape, and tape it to a plastic chair, and sit in the chair pretending it’s a wheelchair.

Like your emulation, it wasn’t quite functional (obviously) but the feelings you described about wanting to be “like that” and wanting the “experience” sounds a little similar to how I felt at the time as well.

I was sitting in my room at my mom’s house and saw my old American Girl dolls… They both look kind of like me (for anyone who can tell the dolls apart, I have Samantha and the special edition one named Lindsey) and I think I always sort of thought of them as myself. I bought clothes for them that I liked/would want to wear.
At some point, the catalog began offering things that would go with skiing (skis, winter outfits, etc) including a set of crutches with a cast. I asked for it and my mom bought it for me (just the crutches and cast, no other part of the set). I think that every time I played with the dolls after that, I put the cast on one of the dolls.
They had a wheelchair too that I wanted, but when the company started selling that, I was starting to outgrow American Girl, so no one gave it to me… Also, I don’t think I was brave enough to beg for it. (My reasoning was that my mom would think I was stranger than she thought I was already. After all, who begs for a wheelchair? XD I know better now…)
Ah, well. The American Girl idea of a wheelchair is pretty much the kind you see in grocery stores and such. I wouldn’t want my dolls seen in that anyway! XD

Cool reference to “1984″ Gordo. I wonder if the thought police monitor this site?

It’s interesting how we can all trigger memories for each other. I used to have a large soft doll. Apparently she needed her legs bandaged a lot ;)

Sophie; There may be very little choice in some countries. There is barely infrastructure for able bodied person who may find that farming, gathering and hunting to be a full time occupation just so there is something to eat each day. They may simply not have the means to provide for disabled individuals, thus it appears to be a cultural thing.

I saw two rak men today, totally by chance. It did not stir any feelings in me, no envy, no longing to see what I want and wish I could get it over the counter. No adrenaline rush. Yet my desires are still the same. Is this a sign of maturity?

I have a friend called Kim who lives in an apartment complex with several chinese couples. She’s had threats taped to her door because she is a blind quad. The chinese couples refuse to stand in the same elevator as her and they try to prevent her from getting into the swimming pool.

@Chloe- My beanie babies needed leg bandages a lot too! They were made of foam and tape that I found in the supply room for the sunday school at my church. (I was left alone there a lot because my parents were painting one of the classrooms.)

This thread has stirred a lot of searching of memories for me. I had no really constant contact with any mobility-impaired person in my childhood, but any encounter with a person using crutches for what appeared to be permanent impairment stirred fascination, envy, and fantasizing. I would say the most powerful childhood encounter, though by no means the first, was when I around eight or nine and was taken to see a play by an aunt who always thought me inadequately civilized. At the intermission and again when the event let out there was a boy a year or two older than I, casually well-dressed and of very normal bodily proportions, using crutches to swing his legs forward together. No braces, he let his feet down toes first at each step. I was took particular note of his quality loafers, that looked as if they had just come out of the box, not a hint of creases. I also recall that the wooden axillary crutches were unpadded and non-adjustable, which indicated permanence to me. Both times I saw him he walked along while well engaged in conversation with a couple that I took to be his parents. Walking as he did was evidently second nature to him, as I ardently wished it could be for me.
At various times when I lived alone I used crutches daily in the privacy of my home, and frequently in public in places where know one would know me, but I never felt that I was acheiving the effect that my BIID required. When about fifteen years ago I discovered I was not alone in suffering this condition I got a pair of braces made by Bob and found they in some measure produced the impairment I needed, and made it evident to the world outside my skin that I have a real condition, though of course it’s not the one they think it is.

You know, Brice, that actually reminds me of something from my own memories too. I did notice it when some mobility devices looked more “permanent” than others; I wasn’t attracted too much by crutches that temporarily-injured people use but much so by stuff like forearm crutches, which seem more “permanent.”

That continues to this day. My old wheelchair looked cool, but was very cookie-cutter in terms of the little details. I was planning to get a more “permanent”-looking chair, and was on the verge of getting a rigid chair until another one popped up on eBay for a cheaper price. I wanted something that indicated permanence, so if I get “out there” and encounter people, those in the know would notice that and understand that my “condition” is to be seen as permanent; as well, I’d also feel the permanence as well (which I wasn’t feeling with my old chair — the cookie-cutterness of the chair made it feel superficial and temporary).

Well, my young friend, being thirty-some years ahead of you down the BIID path, I can tell you that it never goes away but the closer you can come to being what you’re meant to be, the better you feel. Guilt passes quickly, fear of discovery can be managed. The best, I would think, is to go full time if you can. Unfortunately I was too far along in life and career before I found I was not the only one with these strange propensities, but to those coming up I would say, Go for what’s possible for you, whatever it takes.

Ya’ know something Brice, since this string of messages is alive, I have come to not giving a %&*! about being outed. Not that I want it to happen, nor am I going to tell even my closest friends and I certainly won’t be spending any money on advertising. It is simply no longer a fear of mine. I’m okay with it, and I don’t care if anybody outside the BIID community understands it or not. I might just be inclined to laugh at their pathetic reaction.

Sean & Claire: Yes, this webiste has actually made a difference. God Bless.

Well I wish with all my heart it were just that easy for me. Nobody’s indispensable, but at the time in my life when I began to realize that one might be able to live one’s body image without getting committed to a mental institution, many people relied on me for emotional support, and many still do. They would be slow to understand, if they did at all, so living out my BIID would amount to a gross betrayal of their trust. I will deal with the frustration of it all day to day as best I can, for their sake. As I’ve said before, had I known in my college years what I know now, my life might have taken quite a different turn. I think the best I can hope for now is to get a pair of crutches as a present for the first birthday of my next life.

I wonder if I am BIID? There has always been something wrong with me in one shape or another.

I remember sitting in a girls manual wheelchair when I was about 10 (25 now) for some reason. I also remember finding a crutch somewhere at some point and there was definitely a pair at some point which I “used” to the shop

I also remember wanting to buy a pair of crutches. I was still living at home and quite young I think.

And I definately thought about buying a proper sports wheelchair over the past so many years.

My “problem” is sexual in some way though: I can remember sitting in a wheelchair and getting a rock hard erection not too many years ago, but with women in general I have problems in that department….

Wow that was quite a lot I think, what do you guys think???

Hello Sam, You are not BIID. That is, you may *have* BIID, but you *are* not BIID. BIID is a condition one has, not something someone is, even though it might feel like it defines us a lot of the time.

That said, from the little you’ve said, it’s more about a sexual fetish for you than about feeling like you are in the wrong body. That means it’s unlikely to be BIID. Keep in mind that BIID is not (yet) actually defined anywhere and that I am not a doctor anyway.