I grew up with a handicapped little sister, only eleven months younger than I am. And I'd always think about just how close we are in age, damn near twins. And how it could have been me born with cerebral palsy, not her. And I hate that I allow myself to think that. But I hate even more that I'm actually glad that it's merely a thought, and I don't have to live that way.
I think we as a society do the disabled a disability when we categorize them as helpless. But I believe an even worse disservice to the disabled is the lie that says they are no different than those that are "normal". Because yes, they are.
I think reality is when we see someone handicap we instantly feel a sense of discomfort, sympathy. Some of us thank our lucky stars that we weren't born like that. And most handicap have that same wish. Except the wishful pennies they toss in that wishing well are pennies with holes in them. Hopeless.
Is it wrong for us to be grateful that we were born "normal"? Or is it unfair to feel bad for the disabled because their body parts aren't parallel to the way we're used to seeing them?
I wonder sometimes if the true discomfort that we have with the handicap is the real challenge that it gives us. The challenge to just accept that we feel bad for them, and as selfish as it sounds, we're glad they're not us. Some of us are glad we don't require walkers to walk, braces on our legs and wheelchairs controlling our movements. Because truth be told, some of us just could not handle that life...or maybe we could, and just would never know that since we don't have to.
Let's define the word handicap; it describes a person who has a disability and is impaired in some way. And I can't help but wonder if we're all living handicapped, some cases mild, some extreme. Other cases visible, some discreet.
Love,
Vee
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