Sometimes, our minds create stories that we believe will happen. Personally speaking, I waste a lot of time worrying about things that never happen, yet I often cannot help myself from dwelling on these fictitious scenarios. It is because I have endured a lifetime of strangers’ flippant and downright rude comments towards me and my disabled body.
When these stories do not come to life, I think to myself, “how silly that I spent all this at time worrying about something that never happened!”
I guess my best explanation for why I do this is a way of protecting myself from deep wounds caused by others who do not even know me. If I can think it before it happens it won’t hurt so bad. It has happened countless times over my lifetime as a disabled person. It does not matter if they do not know me, or that their comments have more to do with whatever may he going on in their lives more than it is about me. Ok, I get that.
However, words hurt. They cut deep and can leave us feeling humiliated and broken.
Hateful words are hard to forget.
Recently, I was having a good day physically. It was a day when I felt I could make a short trip to the grocery store to get a few things my pickup order was lacking. Gone are the days where I can do an entire grocery trip on my own two feet, but these shorter trips are still within reach on some days. I am grateful.
As I made my way to the back of the store to look for light bulbs, I passed a woman going the opposite way in the aisle. After I passed her, I noticed she turned around to follow me.
“It feels like she’s following me a little too close,” I thought. I felt uncomfortable. As soon as that thought crossed my mind, I heard her loudly say, “Come on! Surely, you can walk better than that. Pathetic!”
I couldn’t believe what was happening. I made the quick decision not to engage with this woman even though I SO desperately wanted to. It takes tremendous self-control not to defend myself in these situations, but I just cannot put myself in situations that could be unsafe for me. I have no self-defense, physically speaking.
Thankfully, she turned down the next aisle and walked away. I stood there for a second, tears starting to surface, and I quickly pushed them away. I finished my shopping, checked out, unloaded my groceries, and got into the safe space of my car, wondering why I must deal with such ignorance on a frequent basis. I know it will never end. It will happen again.
The difference this time was that when I got into my car, I did things differently. Normally, I would have bawled my eyes out and called my husband, sister, parents, or my cousin. My go-to people who understand. But this time, I did not cry. I took a deep breath, said a quick prayer for the woman who had just verbally attacked me, and I drove off.
Later. I told my sister about it. I told her this time I didn’t cry, I moved on. She said, “You are strengthening that muscle.” It hurt. Oh my goodness, it hurt me. It embarrassed me. It shamed me.
But it also showed me that I am stronger in ways I did not used to be. I’m changing, and that will help me in the future when these unsolicited attacks take place. It doesn’t ever get easier. Each time feels like the first time. It’s truly awful.
It takes humble courage to move past things that are so deeply wounding to our souls. To create ways of coping that do not keep us prisoners of some stranger’s hateful words. Most of us could never fathom treating another human being like that. To most, it’s shocking that someone would think this way, let alone voice it. We cannot change the actions of others. Unless I lock myself in my home and never leave, I am always going to encounter this type of scenario directed towards my disability. I will keep strengthening my “rise above” muscle. My “letting things go” muscle.
I do not want these encounters to take up any more of my time and energy than the few seconds they take place. That is what I will choose to focus on.
Until next time …
Amy Shinneman is a former National Ambassador for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, disability blogger, wife, and mom of two boys. You can find her blog at humblycourageous.com and reach her on Instagram @ashinneman.
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