I’ve been disabled since I was in high school. When hip-hugger jeans were all the rage and Avril Lavigne was asking us why we had to go and make things complicated, I was given a different path than my peers. I never obtained a driver’s license, let alone a car. At 17, I dreamed of a “normal” life. Normal, to me, meant driving and holding a job without assistance. Never at 17 did I think my “normal” would be married with a toddler. Yet, here I am at 32, and this version of normal feels enormously special. It took a lot of work to get to this place.
As a disabled mom, these are 4 things I want to teach my daughter:
You are successful even when you need help.
We praise our children when they display independence. And we should! It certainly has its value. But, being dependent is often portrayed as a form of failure. People depend on so many others just to get through the day. It could be the grocery store worker, a bus driver, or the neighbor who helped roll your trash cans out when you forgot. Sometimes we don’t consider how even the smallest of acts are something we depend on. I want my daughter to know that when we don’t think we need help, or credit ourselves for our achievements, that it’s just as acceptable to acknowledge those who helped us get there. It doesn’t take away from our success; our loved ones and community are an extension of our success.
There is always more than one way to do something.
Obvious as it may seem, creativity comes at the witching hour. Life will hand you obstacles, and sometimes you can’t overcome them in the way you hope for. But always try, and you will find a way it can be done. Dante Alighieri once said, “The secret to getting things done is to act.”
Never let your setbacks be your anchor.
In October of 2020, I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis. It was a major setback in what appeared to be a positive future. It affected how I raised my daughter and put a kink in my marriage. When I was finally prescribed the correct medication, I began to see how much I had allowed my setback to be my anchor. It’s easy to do when simply existing requires all of your energy. But when we set an anchor down, returning to the path forward becomes even more difficult.
The things you can’t do shouldn’t overshadow the things you can do.
We are programmed to see the negative, whether it’s looking in the mirror and judging our flaws or ruminating on past failures. Being disabled comes with a prerequisite of tallying up all the things you can’t do. As a disabled mom, I may never be able to be the mom I always wanted to be. But I can be the mom my daughter needs me to be. And that’s enough.
