There I am, just days away from the biggest event I’ve ever organized and I have this moment of clarity.
I’m literally sitting on the toilet (bear with me) where I sit to change clothes and I can’t get my leg out of my jeans. I’m struggling with my pants that are stuck on my non-moving foot, I reach down to pull on the denim when I overbalance and nearly faceplant.
I catch my self in the nick of time with my left arm and keep myself from an inglorious dump on the tile.
I sit on the toilet with the pants around my ankles, waiting for my racing heart to slow.
I look in the bedroom with the boxes full of swag and prizes piled up and think, “WTH am I doing? What makes me think I can do this when I can’t even pull my pant off without falling? I’m paralyzed. I AM.”
I close my eyes. Tears bubble to the surface.
I open my eyes and look at the arm that lies limply at my side.
I look at the leg that caused me so much trouble to start with.
My eyes wander over to the wheelchair that is my only mode of transportation.
The voices in my head start again. Why are you doing this? Let the non-crippled do this. You can’t lift those boxes. You can’t drive yourself there. You’re pretty useless in a fire.
They were totally right.
Those voices in my head.
The people with two arms and two legs do it faster and better. I can’t move a box worth crap. Me driving is a pretty scary thought. In case of fire do not use wheelchair.
My 8yo came in and said,” Are you almost done? I need your help with something.”
Then she flounced out.
She didn’t stop to ask if it was something I COULD do it , she just assumed I WOULD, somehow. The way I have done so many things.
For a moment I truly doubted my ability to do any of it.
Then I realized it wasn’t my ability to do that mattered, it was my skill to make things happen.
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