The Wheelchair

Today as I sat in my room staring at my new wheelchair, I couldn’t help but snarl at it. It seems to me, the enemy. Over the last 7 years in my weak moments when I start to lose it, you could ask what I’m afraid of and it’s never death; it’s always getting worse. It’s always losing my independence. It’s always the idea of having seizures every day, having to be artificially fed or hydrated and last, but not least, being in a wheelchair. This week I have hit all of those top three things.  The hydration thing I’m long since used too, the seizure thing is scary, but not new, but the wheelchair... I can hear the ominous music building in the background as I type. Dum Dum DUM!  Why does this one thing bother me so much? Especially since it’s only temporary as I heal from a fall.

Perusing Facebook I came across an article that gave me a window into why I think the wheelchair freaks me out so much. (For your later enjoyment: http://storylineblog.com/2013/08/23/angelina-jolies-breasts-and-the-bravery-of-letting-go/?utm_content=buffer9fe4b&utm_source=buffer&utm_medium=twitter&utm_campaign=Buffer )

Those of you close to me will nod your head in amusement at this next part and the rest of you may think I’m crazy, but I have a walk, a VERY specific walk. I walk with power and intent always.  No matter how sick I am or where I’m going, I walk with authority (even if it’s all in my head).  My walk is a big deal to me.  It’s one of the main things the significant romantic men in my life have loved about me.  In a wheelchair, I have no swagger, I have no authoritative strut, I have no feminine glide…I just roll along; worse, I’m pushed along! No independence. 

I hate it that I care, but BOY, DO I CARE!  Today I put much thought into my outfit and shoes and how they would look sitting down.  I took the time and energy to put my hair up.  I even went so far as to make my first stop out of the house buying new lip gloss. I wanted to look as put-together and feminine as I could if I was going to have to go through the day without MY walk.  Sigh… such silliness.

As the end of the article states:

“…what would happen if we began to pray for the confidence, and the grace, to let go?”

I like it that I have a Whitney walk. I think its okay that I have a Whitney walk, but my walk is neither who I am nor what defines me. Sure, it gives a pretty particular first impression, but it’s not all of me.  A HUGE part of being ill is learning to adjust. I need to adjust to this new reality. I need to get over myself and “let go” and learn ways to be me IN or out of a wheelchair.

And so, “ I pray for the confidence, and the grace to let go” and be the woman God made me to be, standing or sitting.

And now I’m going to go sit in my awesome new wheelchair, wearing my batman shirt, and listen to Katy Perry’s new song Roar, (it’s ok if you’re not a KP fan; it’s a good song for this moment) and remember that even without my strut, God made me a strong woman, who at the end of it all needs only the love of my God to be confident.