transabled.org

 

• About
• Login
• Contact
• Accessibility

Google Search:
Web transabled.org Go

 

Blog > Thoughts > Other's Thoughts > Tom's Thoughts > A Hand for A Life

A Hand for A Life

Written by Tom on Sunday, November 23, 2008

I could start this account by saying I’ve always wanted to be an amputee for as long as I can remember. I could recall very old memories, but the most vivid one – and the most significant - is a dream I had when I was about eleven. In that dream I could quite straightforwardly remove my left hand from the end of my arm by pulling on it with a slight twist. I could also put it back, but it felt a lot better without it. Not having a hand at the end of my left forearm just felt right.

So I decided to leave the hand off and to live my life as a one handed boy with my forearm ending in a very neat stump. In the dream, I saw myself at school and playing with the other kids. No one seemed to pay particular attention to my missing a hand and it felt right to me. I was physically different and yet didn’t require any special attention, I was quite happy with myself that way. But this was just a dream. I woke up in the morning to find that my left hand was still attached to my arm and that it was indeed impossible to detach it by simply pulling on it, no matter how hard I tried. Good morning sadness. It strikes me that more than 30 years later, the feeling of satisfaction and of rightness I had experienced in my dream still is so acute. And so is the sadness I felt waking up two handed in the morning.

After this experience, life continued, but I was soon to find out that there was something profoundly different about me. Puberty started little time later and the impression of not being right as a two handed, able bodied person became stronger as my sexuality developed. The image of myself as an amputee was tightly linked to sexuality, to love and to the adult way of relating to others – this hasn’t changed ever since. And it has been very difficult to accept. I have spent most of the last thirty years and the best part of my energy during that time trying to control my desire to be a one handed and not living my sex and love life. Obviously, one cannot annihilate one’s sexuality or one’s emotional life altogether, especially if one knows one can enjoy such things, be it at the cost of loosing a hand.

In my struggle to overcome my unacceptable desire, I deliberately developed early on and until recently all the skills and all the aspects of my life that could draw me away from any form of disability. I concentrated on developing handy skills and professional skills which I carefully selected so that if I became disabled I would loose a lot. “See all that you would no longer be able to do if you only had one hand” I kept repeating to myself. I soon became considered by the others (who, of course didn’t know about my desire to become an amputee) as a kind of super able, super capable person, like one who can undertake almost anything and succeed, which I did successfully indeed. Many envied me. Of course, the counterpart of it is that I deliberately had to choose not to develop the aspects of my life that would have favoured my unacceptable desire: relationships, love, emotional life, sexuality, and, all in all, pleasure. What is the life of an adult without relationships, love, emotions, sex and pleasure? Not much, really, but a huge loneliness.

So, here I am a super capable, able bodied person and a super lonely, hopeless one too. In all those years, I used to indulge into occasional anonymous one night stands as a disabled (I bandaged my left hand and wrist to make it stiff and useless, hid it in a glove and pretended I had a malformed, crippled hand – it worked wonderfully even though it was still rather remote from having a real stump). This situation gradually became harder and harder to stand over the years, and I eventually started to look for help. I undertook therapy and persevered for several years. It did help relieve some of the pressure in my life and I did identify some dark zones in my history as a child. Revisiting those painful memories with the caring help of my therapist did help ease things up. I eventually told my therapist about my amputation desire. I hoped to grow to develop a normal sex and love life eventually. My therapist advised me not to take any step towards really becoming what I want to be but to try to accept my desire and not have negative judgements about it. He did encourage me to “do what I did” (referring to my pretending) and I think he thought I would eventually grow to have relationships without having to pretend I was one handed any longer. So I started to pretend more and more, both to myself, at home, and publicly, and I developed a double life, so to speak. I gradually learnt to really be a one handed – mostly in private – and to accept it and to overcome the shame of pretending. Doing things around the house, like cleaning and cooking, and working, in particular keyboard typing which my profession involves a lot (I work mostly at home) wasn’t easy at all at the beginning, but I thoroughly enjoyed it and I became more and more skilled at it. I am now to a point where it has become obvious to me that I really have nothing to loose in becoming one handed.

Why not do it then, and get on with living? I am ready to give up my super able self. I have given it up already. I am also convinced that I would be much happier and much less lonely. But I cannot come to the grips with the idea of a self inflicted amputation. Even if I want it, voluntarily injuring oneself is a big step to take, especially without support, but where can one find such support?

I have tried many times, like most of us, to understand where this desire originates from. Unlike others, I can’t remember an early sighting of a one handed person in my life that I can identify as the cause , although I recall with a thrill numerous such sightings that confirmed me in my desire. Therapy has cast some light though on potential reasons why I should have, as a child, developed a self image as a disabled.

Meeting others while pretending – that is, appearing as a one handed guy (although the pretending aspect feels shameful, I hate lying to people) definitely is highly satisfying to me. It feels right. It’s not that I want the others to pity me or to patronize me. I don’t like to be perceived as someone who is dependant or in need or a freak. I enjoy being different and being perceived as such. I happily manage the difference and I don’t expect others to make me feel good about it. I take the social drawback and I see it as an interesting challenge.

May 2006

Tags: Amputation, Pretending, Shame

Twitter Updates

Follow me on Twitter