Rejecting my identity

At some time or another in our lives, many of us have wished we were anyone but ourselves. Often, the grass seems greener on the other side.

Longing to be someone else was a pattern throughout much of my life. I am not sure if it was longing to fully embody someone else, or just to erase the largest part of me that made me who I was. It seemed to me that would make my life so much easier.

I fully rejected my disabled identity. I did not often voice that, but I thought it. A lot.

I felt like God made a mistake when He formed me. Sounds sad, silly, and selfish writing that out. I wanted to be different. Truthfully, I wanted not to be different.

When you spend all your mental energy rejecting your identity, it is a constant state of unease.

My mind spun in a carousel of thoughts. If only I could run, if only I could effortlessly climb the stairs at school, or play tag. If only I could take part in gym class, if only I could turn cartwheels or do a somersault. If only I could take part in dance class without the teacher having to help me do simple things that others did with ease. Daydreams of walking into a room without people gawking overtook my young mind.

My thoughts lingered in the La La land of if onlys more than it should have. For all our if onlys, someone else is coveting something that we embody. Something we take for granted.

Looking back, I can clearly see that, over time, views about a disabled person from society sparked this self-loathing. I adopted the opinions of others because I did not know any better. I did not yet know my truth.

I felt ashamed of who I was. Like I was doing something wrong and should have the power within to “fix” myself. The message I received was that I was broken.

In fact, fighting the pressure of societal beliefs and opinions on disabilities is still intense. The immense weight of carrying the lie that I can “fix” myself threatens to crush me if I give it an inch. It is still a battle to fight thoughts that I am broken or less than.

That is why it takes such diligence to adhere to the belief that this is my life, and I am going to faithfully live out my purpose. There is an influx of opinions and comments that make me question that every single day.

I have been able to channel my mental energy to work towards what I believe my purpose is in this life. Although I may question my self-worth from time to time, I have become solid with my truth of what I believe to be my purpose.

It will take time to untangle the complex knot created throughout many years. Deciphering who I truly am and how I feel about myself, apart from the judgmental opinions I have taken on as a part of my identity throughout my 51 years of living disabled.

Rejecting my identity was an attempt to escape the deep pain I felt. Sometimes, it is hard to tell what my true feelings are separate from those beliefs or judgements. It is easier to get things into a tangled mess than it is to unravel the damage done.

I do not seek out negative comments or views of disabled people, but at times they are unavoidable. Reading or hearing things blaming the disabled for disruption of functionality is painful. When I see those comments directed towards others with disabilities my heart breaks.

If only ignorance could transform into kindness and an attempt to understand. What a difference that would make. What a weight that would lift off a population that fights just to exist in a world that is in many ways not designed to help us succeed.

Until next time …

Amy Shinneman is a former National Ambassador for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, disability blogger, freelance writer, wife, and mom of two boys. She is the recipient of the Reporter’s Winter 2025 Ink-Stained Wretch award. You can find her blog at humblycourageous.com and reach her on Instagram @ashinneman.