Physical Disability

I don't like to talk about this. Not because it's painful to talk about my life experience, but because what I write here is only half of what I really communicate. The other half is in your head.

We all judge what we see, hear, read, or touch, according to our own perceptions and beliefs. That is why it is so hard to find the right words, the right tone, to communicate my thoughts. The very title of this post will elicit a good chunk of your own agenda, and you will try to color me accordingly. I hope your mind is open enough so you can really see me.

You see... I can't give you a list of my afflictions. Because surgeries don't matter. Whether I have one, two, or no breasts, doesn't matter. Whether I limp, whether or not my spine is perfectly straight, whether or not I'm in pain, none of that matters. I'm not trying to gain your sympathy. I just want you to look beyond my imperfections, beyond my ugliness, because what really matters is what's above my neck.

My thoughts, my strength, my refusal to give up, my refusal of your pity, my refusal of your fear. That's what matters.

I am capable.

I can't give up.