Editor's Note: On this beautiful Friday, I hope you enjoy Part III on my mini-memoir. If you missed the backstory, check out Part I and Part II. Enjoy the first weekend in October, and enjoy the moments, colored leaves and all!
Do I wish I had a disability? People always ask me if I'm ever angry or disappointed that I have a physical disability. Sometimes I even think they picture me lying in my bed all day screaming and cursing the fates for giving me this body, for making me feel so trapped and just all-around thinking that life would be better if only my two legs simply did what they were supposed to.
As you may (or at least I hope) suspecy, my answer to this question is always the same: No. Just like you can't miss something you've never had, I can't miss being able-bodied. I don't know any life but the one I've been living for 28 years, so to me, the way I am is normal.
Besides, I've never been comfortable with the term normal. Maybe it's the relativist in me screaming to come out, but if my disability has taught me anything, it's that nothing can ever be truly normal. Living teaches you about life. But more importantly, my disability has taught me about life and about what it truly means to live. I always say that I think of my scars - and I have quite a collection - as a badge of honor. They're a constant reminder of what I've been through. We all have disabilities, whether they are visible or not. We all have things we are forced to overcome in life. I've learned that it's not the disability that stops people from doing things in life, it's people who stop themselves. And I intend to keep going. It may take me longer to get where I'm going, but I know I'll get there, with a little help from my fire-engine red wheelchair, of course - hey, a girl has to travel in style, right? Life is simply too short to do otherwise.
