Belonging as a blessing*.

 

If you’re ever stuck for a blog topic, head over to plinky.com and have a look at their prompts.  I’ve copied a few to my computer for those times when I feel the need to communicate but can’t get started.  Today is such a time so I thought I’d start with this question:

 What does home mean to you?

For some it’s a geographic location.  For some it’s where blood relatives are, but for me it’s wherever I feel in my proper headspace.  Any place or person that gives me the time and space to feel relaxed enough express the most positive aspects of my personality is home for me.

At this particular point in my life, I feel like I’ve been away from home for a long, long time and I’m finally returning to what Clarissa Pinkola Estés would call my ‘pack’ (the premise of her book being that ‘a healthy woman is much like a healthy wolf’).   It’s been a long and bumpy ride to find my soul-mates but finally I feel like I’m getting there.

The first and most crucial step in finding out where you belong and with whom you belong, involves taking space to be on your own for a while and find out who you are.  Well, I spent that time alone, did a lot of thinking, questioning and discovering.   After this period was over I felt it was time to find out who I was in the context of my relationships with other people.

When I joined a group of artists for my degree nearly four years ago, I was happy and excited because I thought I was on my way to finding my place in the world.  However, it soon became obvious that I had nothing in common with them.  The ways in which I used art to express my truth were deeply misunderstood, and criticized for not being of a very specific nature.  As a consequence I began to mistrust my deepest instincts and fear that I was ‘doing it wrong’ – that I was wrong for the pack, when truth be told that pack was wrong for me.   At the time I couldn’t see it and instead I scuttled back into my shell sure in the knowledge that I had failed as a ‘proper artist’ and didn’t have anything of worth to give to anyone.  This episode also re-affirmed my conviction that I didn’t need or want a pack – that I truly was a solitary animal.  Now, however that I’m starting to feel a sense of belonging I realize that I’m most definitely not a solitary animal, I just function best in the company of a particular kind of person who understands my nature and gives me plenty of breathing space.

Recently, something really interesting started happening, and it’s all thanks to Twitter.  I started being ‘followed’ by people whose interest in me was completely mystifying (I’m often genuinely baffled to find that people like me).  People who awakened a part of me I’d buried away a long time ago and buried it so deep I didn’t even recognize it as an aspect of who I used to be.  However, the more willing I was to let go of these false impressions I had of myself and fully engage with these people the happier, the lighter, and the more ‘right-minded’ I’ve become.  After years of anxious searching my pack is finding me.

The hardest part of all this for me right now is learning to find my confidence with people again, to connect and trust that these new people in my life really can become friends who will to protect, nurture and teach me, instead of playing nice when there’s something in it for them then clearing off when I’ve outlived my usefulness or the novelty factor has worn off.  I also need to learn to trust my skills and my ability to be a useful and competent member of the pack.

Then there’s the softening – oh boy, that’s a tough one.  I’ve been on ‘lock down’ for so long to protect myself against ‘fair weather friends’ that to find yourself amongst genuine, decent people is at the same time a heart-warming and incredibly uncomfortable experience, but it’s a discomfort I’m more than ready to feel – that I MUST feel – if I am to move forward.

It’s all very exciting and absolutely terrifying but like I said in my last blog, this kind of fear is far healthier than the type that’s kept me separated from true self for too long.

 

Now, can we just get into 2012 so I can get cracking, please!?

 

* Blog title taken from a chapter of ‘Women Who Run with The Wolves’ by Clarissa Pinkola Estés

Revelations.

On Friday I had a SKYPE chat with a new friend who is also disabled, and we were talking about WAV’s or ‘Wheelchair Accessible Vehicles’.  Martyn has Spinal Muscular Atrophy and drives a WAV, so I was asking him about his set-up just out of sheer curiosity.  However that conversation turned out to be rather prophetic…

When I first started driving  I was able to slide my chair into the boot and walk back round to the driver’s side. However because as I no longer walk I needed to do a ‘dry run’ with the light chair to be sure that I can actually get everything in my car at point A , then get it all out again at point B unaided.  Well, Dad and I discussed all the techniques and options for getting the chair into the car and out again, but after much straining, a bit of swearing and some scratches on my door sill (oops!) it’s become obvious that I need a WAV.

When I was looking for the car I have now, Dad and I talked about a WAV but I was very reluctant not least because I hadn’t realised how much my abilities had changed but also I thought of WAV users as ‘fully disabled’ and at that point I still wasn’t really ready to embrace my disabled self.   But yesterday, when I learned I had a new limitation instead of being angry or sad, a light bulb went on in my head and I actually felt curiously liberated!  Now I know the equipment and techniques I can’t use, it’s guiding me to the ones that WILL meet my needs I can get me back to total independence.

We had a quite a giggle yesterday because when Dad put my current wheelchair back near the car so I could get in I said ‘Give me the other one back, I want to see if my arse still fits in it after 17 years!’ haha.  Well, do you know what? It still fits me beautifully and not only that, but it is still the most comfortable ride.   The wheelchair I’m typing at you from right now is big and comfy but I hadn’t realised just how much it knocks my posture to hell!! In the sports chair I felt like everything was connected and I was sitting squarely in my body instead of feeling like a brain in a chair *lol*.

Anyway, I’ll be using the sports ‘job’ for walks down the track because it can get muddy so it’ll be better to transfer into my ‘house’ chair that I can keep clean rather than having to wash the wheels down and wait for it to dry before I can get back in the house!

So, how about your ‘eureka’ moments?  Has your disability changed to the point where you needed to do things differently and how did you achieve that? Comment below, and you may help someone else who’s trying to figure all this out .