I Resolve

Every year, holiday celebrations fade seamlessly into proclamations about the things we wish to do differently in the year to come. For many years my wishes have been all about denial; depriving myself of anything necessary to make my body smaller.

A number on a scale, or more accurately the size on a tag has defined success for me. By defining myself through arbitrary numbers, I didn’t have to face up to the truth that I was at war with my body, and I would never be victorious in this battle. When I focused on the size of my T-shirt, I didn’t have to focus on a world that wasn’t built for me or the way people stared when I rolled down the street.

When I focused on the number on the scale I didn’t have to focus on how people treat me differently. Often times, they made me feel less than human because I can’t get out of bed on my own, take a shower by myself, or get dressed without somebody else’s help. When I focused on numbers and sizes, didn’t have to focus on the frustration of feeling like I had no control over my own body.

Instead, I could focus on the same resolutions: get smaller, take up less space, be less of a burden.

Numbers, sizes, and food replaced all the things in my life that I could not change. I hated the scars that covered my legs, the way my muscles jumped, and the way my legs failed to work. None of that could be changed, but I believed however that I could force myself into a smaller frame. I convinced myself that if I could be skinny instead of fat, I would blend in and nobody would stare at me. If I could deny and deprive myself, people would see me as a full person instead of just my wheelchair. If I could make myself smaller, then people would see more than my spasms, scars, and everything that made me different. The number on the scale or the size on the tag would say if my rebellion was lost or won.

Slowly I found that reality could not be further from the truth. As I found my disabled community, I learned that changing myself was not only impossible, it also would not solve my problems. My quest to blend in and be just like everyone else led me to miss out on a lot of what makes me happy. I was never meant to blend in, and I’m happiest when I don’t. When I’m being myself. I like bright colors, lipstick, and sparkly highlighter. Deep down inside, I have to admit, I like standing out, but I want to stand out for who I am.

Power comes from refusing to buy into society’s idea that there is only one way to be beautiful or valuable. Power comes from making peace with yourself, not promising that you will always love every inch of your skin, but promising that you will refuse to destroy yourself from within. Power comes from refusing to shrink away from the stares of strangers, and instead owning your body, exactly as it is.

Power comes from flipping the lens, and taking control of the story you tell. It comes from knowing that other people’s gazes do not define you, and that only you can define who you are.

I wish this was the part of the story where I got to tell you that everything is better now, and I’m totally at peace with my body, but it’s not.

My quest to feel comfortable in my own skin is one of the most difficult parts of my journey, and it's still something I actively work at every single day. I’m not going to pretend that I just woke up one day and decided that I was happy with my scars, spasms, and less than skinny frame, because it doesn’t work like that.

All I can do is resolve to make different choices and to treat myself differently.

This year, I resolve not to define myself, my worth, my successes, and my failures by some arbitrary number on a scale, or size on a tag. I resolve to accept and honor myself, flaws and all.

[Image Description: Offset by oversized teal quotation marks, white text on an orange background reads, “I resolve not to define myself, my worth, my successes, and my failures by an arbitrary number on a scale or size on a tag.  Instead, I resolve to accept and honor myself, flaws and all.” White italicized text below the quote attributes the quote to writer and activist Karin Hitselberger, and a watermark in the top left-hand corner of the image reads www.claimingcrip.com]