Many of us are getting “sick” of covid restrictions…it’s been a long haul. And, we can still choose how we show up for life. Each moment is a rich opportunity to experience, regardless of what we can or cannot “do”. A person living with disability offers wisdom and perspective here.
There are those of us that have been invisible, have lived months and years of our lives alone, unable to leave the house, because our bodies aren't able to. Shelter in place is the norm for many of us. our bodies often don’t do what we want, can’t go where we want, when we want......and what we want has actually become irrelevant. Instead, each day we ask, what might I be given the grace to show up for today? And that might look like just lying there alone, unable to get up. many of us have disabilites you can't see. We look "fine". But, we don't take for granted being able to cook a meal, having the energy to get the laundry done, the ability to bathe. All these are gifts. To be able to care for yourself is a gift. To be able to walk out the door and walk as far as you feel like....to breathe freely. To wake up each morning and not wonder whether you will be able to see. Whether your unreliable body will come through.
Here's what I have learned: how to still feel connected, when yet another week is spent without going to a social gathering, without hugs, or smiles from others. Because my human heart is my steadfast friend. All around, I see reminders that my body can't do what the others can, and the physical set up of society doesnt accommodate my basic needs- needs for functionality. inclusion. dignity- still, I remain a steadfast friend for myself, and I find contentment in accepting what is.
So do you ask for what you need, and risk the dirty looks, the silent shaming, when your disability is invisible and you look"normal"? Maybe you don’t want to have to justify, to pull out the medical pronouncement of doom the doctor gave you, and risk the unease and fear it will create for others. The unspoken divide it will create. And maybe, you dont have a big scary impressive medical word to describe it, only that somehow, for some reason, your body is different. "Well, You don't look sick to me..." how many times have we heard those words? And it hurts, And it rankles. And you'll never change it. so you learn to silently honor your experience. Expecting that noone else will get it, and finally, after applying your own balm to that wound, over and over, your own seeing and appreciation becomes enough.
Recently, because of my own invisible, documented medical disability I wore sunglasses to a healing arts workshop. And the other students (students of the healing arts) laughed and made jokes about the sunglasses, not knowing....and I laughed too. and didn't say anything more. But if I walked in with a cane noone would be making fun. And its happened so many times I've stopped caring. The human experience becomes tenderly sad, misguided in the most touching way, impersonal, fleeting, utterly lovable.
Perhaps one day this contraption of a body will do what I want. On demand. Like Amazon prime, or smartphones or any of the ways we expect to get exactly what we want, right now. But I’ve found something better. Because here's more of what I have learned: that when we slow down our lives, and most people will not until forced to (like right now) we get a very special chance to appreciate the smallest kinds of beauty: The late afternoon light against the curtains, the velvet sound of a moth flapping its wings, the humdrum comings and goings of the day- these become the breaking events of existence- and it's all actually miraculous. and we're a part of it.
When we slow down, an amazing thing happens- we find out we;re good again. Not some glamorous rockstar kind of out of this worldness good, but just good. basically good. Yep. when we slow down to the essentials, the basic goodness of ourselves finally emerges....and when we find that, we don't need to "do" anything. We can be content gazing out the window for hours, with the miracle of tying our shoes. We love ourselves through our struggle, and then one day there is no more struggle, just what is left, what is essential. and it is so fundamental, and so lovable, and so good.