For me, each day presents its own set of challenges, forcing me to navigate through the known and unknown. There’s a poignant truth in Edith Eger’s words, especially when she notes that humans often opt for the familiar discomfort over an unfamiliar possibility.
We’d rather stick with what we know, painful or untenable as it is, than face what we don’t know. When you risk, you don’t know how it will turn out. It’s possible that you won’t get what you want, that things will be worse. But you’ll still be better off, because you’ll be living in the world as it is, not in an imaginary reality created by your fear.
Edith Eger The Gift: 12 Lessons to Save Your Life
This is not only true for the physical world but also for the intricate landscape of human emotions and relationships.
Every day, I am reminded of my known reality — the limitations set by SMA. The weight of my wheelchair isn’t just physical; it carries with it the collective perceptions and biases of society. While I’ve learned to embrace this reality, the true challenge lies not in maneuvering my chair through physical spaces but in braving the emotional terrains of vulnerability and relationships.
If there’s one thing harder than dealing with a physical disability, it’s confronting the unknowns of our emotions. Sharing a piece of your soul, letting someone in, fearing rejection – these are universal experiences. However, with SMA, it sometimes feels like I’m not just risking heartbreak, but also confronting society’s perceptions and prejudices.
Romantic connection, for me, is that quintessential unknown. The burning questions: Will they see past the wheelchair? Will they recognize my spirit amidst my physical limitations? These aren’t just musings but vulnerabilities laid bare. Over the years, every single expression of my romantic feelings has been met with rejection. Each “no” is an echo of my deepest fears: am I inherently unworthy of a romantic relationship because of my condition?
But with time, I’ve come to see that the walls I built to shield me from rejection were the real barriers to authentic connections. While rejection is uniquely painful, the ache of untold feelings and unexplored connections lingers longer. I’ve learned that sometimes rejection isn’t about my inadequacies but about the other person’s journey and their own set of complexities.
There have been moments in my life where I convinced myself that it is better to stick with the loneliness I knew than to venture into the unknown realms of love and face rejection. This is the illusion of safety that we often cling to. We convince ourselves that staying put, within the confines of our known realities, is safer than risking hurt, disappointment, or judgment.
However, I had to learn, the hard way, that avoiding risk didn’t mean avoiding pain. Every time I chose silence over expression, every moment I decided not to wear my heart on my sleeve, I was retreating further into an “imaginary reality created by fear,” as Edith Eger so eloquently puts it. The walls I built, thinking they’d protect me, only imprisoned me more.
Embracing the unknown isn’t easy, but it’s necessary. For me, it began with self-love. Before I could expect someone else to see past my disability, I had to do it myself. I had to believe in my own worth, in my ability to love and be loved in return. SMA is a part of me, but it isn’t all of me. I am more than my wheelchair. I am funny, hopeful, witty, smart, thoughtful, and so much more.
It took many moments of introspection and soul-searching to reach this point. There were days when doubt took over, causing me to question my worthiness. But, as I have learned, it’s better to have ventured and faced hurt than never to have ventured at all. Each experience, no matter how painful, has a lesson embedded within it, helping us grow and evolve.
In this journey, I realized that when I risk — be it in love, career, or any other facet of life — I’m taking a leap of faith. A leap that says I believe in possibilities, in a world outside of my current reality. And even if it doesn’t turn out the way I hope, I choose to come out stronger, wiser, and more aligned with my true self.
So, to anyone reading this, whether you have a disability or not — know this: It’s okay to feel vulnerable. It’s okay to be scared of the unknown. But don’t let those feelings anchor you to a reality that no longer serves you. Sometimes, the greatest growth happens when we move out of our comfort zones, when we face our fears head-on, and when we allow ourselves to feel deeply. So, take that risk, wear your heart on your sleeve, and venture into the beautiful unknown. The rewards are worth the gamble.
I’d like to make this blog a bit more interactive, so I’ve created a Google Form that lets anyone send in questions or topics they would like me to explore. You can even submit anonymously, if you wish.
Tell me what you want me to write about. Nothing is off-limits, but I don’t guarantee I will create a post based on your input.
Great read. You and Edith are both correct.. thank you for your insight.. and please continue to hit the publish button.
I’m thrilled this resonated with you. Thank you so much for your words!