This Arm Of Mine | A Good Time To Share

I was born with one arm. I say one arm, but really I have two, it's just that one came out looking a bit different. I don't know any different, I don't consider myself as 'disabled' (the ugly 'D' word). Yes there are a few things I find harder than 'able-bodied' humans like: wake-boarding, braiding hair and opening tin cans (although I may have had a breakthrough with the latter and I feel no desire to do much wake-boarding, so we're all good there).

I have good days and bad days in terms of coping with being a bit 'different' and I've been struggling a little lately. Also, if by sharing some of the ups and downs that I go through as a person with a 'D' I can help others or inform and open people's eyes a little to what it is like living with a disability, then it will be worth it, and I hope too, that this might help me to get through the tough days.

Me and My Sleeve

A bit about me:

As much as I have accomplished in my life so far, be it a mere 26 years on this big old oyster, whether it's been big or small, one of the things that I struggle with most is coping with others and their looks, stares or judgement. I can tie my laces, I can drive, I've even climbed a mountain at altitude with one ice axe rather than two and before setting off on our travels I completed a triathlon. But yet on my less confident days (as we all have) I just want to hide and scream a little too. 

I don't doubt for one minute that my arm plays a massive part of what drives me to do those things, to push myself harder and further. I am determined, stubborn and I hate being told I can't do something. I do sometimes wonder how different my character would be had a been born with two 'normal' hands - but I truthfully believe it's given me things I wouldn't have had - compassion, empathy, sensitivity, a sense of humour and determination for sure.

I have a wonderful family, amazing friends and I am lucky enough to share my life with my best friend and they all love me, support me and constantly remind me that those who love me don't even notice my arm.

Over the years I've grown in confidence,  there was a time where I wore short sleeves in public but I reckon after aged 10 or so it was long sleeves all the way. In recent years I've swapped boiling hot jumpers and cardigans for a sock - a big step in the right direction. Currently an ugly black rejected sock, not a great look, but better than the stress of no sleeves and better than boiling to death. My arm looks different and I feel like people would stare more without it. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe one day I'll let my arm be free. But for now the big step is leaving the cardy at home.

I wasn't bullied at school, so my stresses didn't start there either. Ok there was one time when a boy in my class at school asked in a mean boyish tone "Eeer what happened to your arm?", to which I replied: "Eeer what happened to your face?" And that was that.

A look can mean more:

So why is it, despite knowing how lucky I am to have great family and friends, to have the confidence to travel the world and set my mind to big challenges, that a stranger's stare can hurt so much?

This is something I've really been thinking about recently. More so, it's something I have had to face because here in Cambodia people stare. A lot. And I mean a real good check it out, nudge the friend to look too, stare. 

I have been away from home for 21 months. I have travelled through some of North, South and Central America. I have lived and worked in Australia for a year and it's here, in Phnom Penh that I write this heartfelt post. Because it's here where I have found it most hard, confronting and heartbreaking all at once. Maybe it's because I have been away for so long and I am feeling more out of my comfort zone or sensitive but even Tom has noticed more than ever people's stares, and it's so frustrating.

The bad days

Of course we all have off days; when we feel fat, angry or sad, I'm the first to admit that I know I am more sensitive when I'm tired. But there are some days when it is just so hard not to notice every single look. To anticipate every stare as you walk down the street because I am thinking about every person I will walk past; every shop window, every restaurant, every car driving by, every child playing... thinking and expecting them to first notice and then enjoy a good old stare. 

For me I think sometimes the hard part comes in here; that a stare can remind me that this is for life. That those few stares won't be the last, and that to me seems totally exhausting. It's on these days I just wish I could be 'normal'.

Other days, people's stares just make me feel angry. At people's ignorance, insensitivity and sheer blindness to their actions. That they can make eye contact with me but yet continue to stare as if I cannot see them.

It is this message that I would like to share today, that all of our actions can affect people so differently. That we can never understand fully what another person is going through. That we don't know the anxiety and anticipation that someone might go through just to do a normal day-to-day thing like walk down the street. 

I might have one arm, but I have two eyes! 

When walk past you, smile and say hello and you smile awkwardly but keep looking down at my arm - I can see.
I can see you turn around to stare a bit longer when I've passed you.
I can see you nudge your friend to have a good look too.
I can hear children's gasps when I walk past. Their questions to their parents about why, how and what? I mean, I expect children to ask questions - but it's usually the adult's reactions, stares and responses that can be the most disappointing.

This isn't just an aimless rant, I'm a happy chappy really!

This isn't just me having a good old moan. This is just my life. And I am a happy, positive normal-ish person, I'm not trying to stand on a pedestal, I don't even have one, I simply want to share what living with a disability means to some people. I certainly don't speak on behalf of all people with a disability, but I reckon a lot can relate to the fact that you can cope, do things just like others and live a totally normal life with a disability - but there are still those thoughts, routines and coping mechanisms that people will never understand. I think it's great that we're seeing disability more on tv and opening people's eyes to it but seeing it doesn't explain what it is like and how hard it can really be to live with it. 

Even on the good days, the confident, 'I can do anything' days, I still have strategies I use to make life easier, to avoid the uncomfortable reactions. This comes instinctively now, just like introducing yourself to a stranger. 

Meeting new people can be difficult for lots of people and for lots of different reasons - for me it's not making conversation or knowing what to ask them, it's about considering how they might react to my arm, or if we're in a situation where I will have to use my arm like to tie up my hair or cut up food, thinking how they might see me. Yes, those are my own issues, but that's just what's going through my head. Going to the beach with people I don't know very well for example, is scary on a whole other level - because that means removing the sock. 

Coping strategies... Did you know? 

Sometimes I feel like I must be extra friendly, extrovert and happy outwardly to people I meet, as to stop them from feeling uncomfortable in any way, greeting a stranger who stares with a big hello and a stare to make them see I am just a normal person and hopefully this will prompt a reply and a glance away from my arm, perhaps even some eye contact.

Then there are times when I know people haven't noticed yet, this can be hilarious but also tough. In order to avoid an awkward situation later (and I've had a few) I'll bring it up in conversation as nonchalantly as possible; sometimes making a joke or sharing a funny memory. Sometimes it's genuine because im comfortable with people but sometimes its just to try make it less uncomfortable.

I knew one guy for a year before he noticed, he was baffled, confused and we didn't speak again after that. His loss I know, but you see what I'm talking about. 

And finally...

So as usual I have written an essay but I will round off with my point. That we don't always realise how much even our small apparently insignificant actions and reactions can affect others.  

Not everyone knows how sensitive or even paranoid I can feel on some days and this is because I mostly am ok with it, I get on with things, and sometimes my arm even gives me more confidence but on those few bad days I can hide the anxiety pretty well, unless I've left my sock behind, and then you can pretty much smell the fear! But maybe, here in Cambodia especially right now, if more people looked up and smiled after noticing my arm I'd feel less 'different' and less like hiding something that is a part of me, something that I had and have no control over. 

When you feel fat, you can decide to lose weight.
When you feel sad, you can find solace knowing that you will feel happy again.
When you are angry, you will calm down.
When you are born with a disability, you know you are different and all you can do is deal with it, cope the best you can and get on with your life. 

This realisation can be really hard, so next time you see someone with a disability, don't stare or get freaked out; smile and say hi, because I promise you, just that simple, nice action, can turn a bad day into a good one.