Limit lass
When you’re disabled you learn to live with limitations. That’s really the definition. No, I can’t drive that far. Sorry, I won’t be able to make it. I can’t keep up unless you slow down. Today I can’t get out of bed…even to shower. Fuck. These are sometimes the brutal facts.
In our culture, it’s seen as a virtue to scoff at personal limitations. We’re supposed to face our fears, defy the odds, and pull up our bootstraps. We look to the limitless, the boundless. We dream big damn dreams. We wait, breath abate, for the singularity.
Where does disability fit into this mindset? Disabled people are viewed in one of a few ways, generally: There’s the disabled person with some hope of a cure, a return to normalcy. There’s the disabled person who maneuvers around her obstacles to do something truly astonishing, like painting photorealistic landscapes with just her eyelashes. Then there’s the dreary, non-transcendent disabled person, whom you pity.
So basically, you can inspire hope or inspire pity. And you’d better have a phenomenal talent or something curable if you want to be in the hope club.
Of course there’s also the disabled person whose disability is less visible to the casual observer, but they don’t get the “disabled” tag at a glance. This last group doesn’t have it easy by a long shot, because it’s harder to get a break. The human attention span tends to gloss over the fact that you need special considerations or extra time. You have to remind people. They might even wonder if you’re not kind of sort of milking the issue. And like it or not, when you’re disabled sometimes it really sucks to have people expect you to function at the level of able-bodied people. Sometimes you might want special treatment because you goddamn need it.
I never thought that much about physical limitations until I got sick five years ago. Before that point, physical limitations meant worrying whether I’d fit into my skinny jeans. Needless to say I took my body and my health for granted. If I felt like dancing all night, we’re dancing! If I wanted to wake up at 5 A.M. to run a few miles, that’s what happened. I was the boss, and my body more or less did my bidding.
But losing control over your very motions is an extremely convincing way to learn that you’re not the boss of shit. Losing your balance teaches you that you’ll have to be a little more democratic about your “what me and my body are doing today” decisions. Chronic pain and exhaustion pin you to the mattress and make you give them your lunch money after screaming uncle uncle uncle. And you learn about physical limits in a way you never conceived of before. Sure, acute illness is a decent exercise in understanding this. There’s a point in a particularly horrible flu when you might wonder if you’ll ever feel normal again. You’re weak and suffering and you can’t imagine going to kickboxing class or walking your dog. In those moments, you probably kind of get it. But if you’re anything like I was, you forget those feelings within hours of beating the bugs back and emerging from the virulent mist.
The fact is, physical limitations are something we all live with even if we don’t pay much attention to them. You’re not going to jump 19 feet in the air. Ever. You’re probably never going to win an Olympic Medal. Sorry. You can’t sing G above high C. Unless, you know, you can. My limitations are just a little more depressing. For instance, I can’t walk to the bathroom right now without clinging to walls all the way there.
I’m committed to pushing my body as far as I can, when it’s wise to do so. I guess I still view myself as a disabled person who has hope, as ridiculous as that system of perception is. I want to burst through my limits and achieve the (currently) impossible (for me). But for now, I have these limits, see.
And one of them has exactly nothing to do with my illness or disability, and it’s this: WHY can’t I have my ass fucked in any other position than on my side, spoons style? What the hell is going on with my ass? Is it some kind of crooked freak or something? Seriously, anal is intolerably painful for me in every other position, but in that one magical set-up it’s amazing. I think I’ll say it again: What the hell is going on with my ass?
You GO! I’ve “gotten” this for the last year and a half thought my experiences with one my best friends. She is a tireless crusader for disability awareness and I have learned so much from her. I had my own kinda “ah ha” moment when I first realized the extent to which my mental disabilities affect my daily life I guess until my current relationship, I’ve always been with people who were used to mental disability. When your partner can’t understand why you literally can’t speak because of a debilitating anxiety attack- it’s tough. It’s one of those “invisible” disabilities you mentioned. People can’t see my mental disorders, so they can easily dismiss them as me acting up or crying out for attention. It’s the few people who have had experience with mental disability that have helped me recognize that it’s not some horrible defect. I love how you explained it all.. so perfectly clear! :)
I took a biology class once where we did the little human-genetics exercise of counting how many people in the class could curl their tongues and how many couldn’t–about 70-30 in favor of the curlers. And then, as people demonstrated their relative tongue abilities (there’s always one kid in the class who can do a W), the curlers started trying to explain to the non-curlers how to do it. “It helps if you suck air over it.” “Your lips make a circle.” “It’s like you’re pulling the edges of your tongue back, not up.” Even though the entire point of the exercise was that it was freaking genetic.
There’s some part of the human mind that doesn’t seem built to understand the difference between “really hard” and “impossible.” This is a glorious part sometimes–can’t go to the moon? hah, it’s just hard work!–but other times it gets stuck up on “can’t be able-bodied? hah, it’s just hard work!”
As an able-bodied person, I never think about disablism. Well, I guess it’s better to say I never *thought* about it. Because two things have changed my way of thinking, and my empathy and understanding of disability. One was being a nanny for a toddler whose father was paralyzed from the waist down, and was in a wheelchair. I saw the trouble they went through with his employment, bathroom access, handicapped parking spots, wheelchair ramps, etc. I’m now more likely to notice these things, and think about it from a different perspective.
The other was getting involved in the feminist community, especially online. Because I always noticed sexism; hell, I’m a woman! I always noticed heterosexism; hell, I’m fucking queer! And I knew that racism existed, though as a white woman, I’ve had to go out of my way to be educated in it and understand the dynamics of it. And cisgenderism, too; while I had trans friends, as a ciswoman, the understanding of the dynamics take a little more effort for me. But disablism is one of the isms that we never really think about. Unless, of course, you’re disabled. Then you think about it a whole lot. And I’m glad to have my awareness tipped to it, and to be learning to be more conscious of when I’m being ableist.
This is a fantastic post. Thank you for writing it. You rock.
@Evey I know for me sometimes it’s hard to remember that disabled is NOT defective. But it totally isn’t. And invisible disabilities can be so brutal. I’m glad you have some sort of support network.
I really can’t expect someone to understand what it’s like or how difficult it is. Sometimes when they try it’s even frustrating, like if someone’s all “I know how it is. I have fallen arches,” or something. I know it’s human nature to try to relate something to new to what you know, but sometimes I have to stop and count to ten. But on the other hand, it’s great to find people who do get it, as well as people who make an effort to pay attention and listen and let me whine on occasion.
@Holly Pervocracy That’s a great analogy. It’s so natural to want to coach and encourage people to do things that just aren’t physically possible for them. I’m just as bad as anyone. Part of me still thinks, “Man up, Quiz! Mind over matter. If you decide to be healthy you’ll BE healthy.” This treatment method has yet to prove itself effective.
I love the aspirational moxie that sent us to the moon, but they still won’t let you be an astronaut if you’re under 5’2″. There would be some kind of object lesson in there somewhere if I was willing to refine it more.
@Britni TheVadgeWig I give mad credit to anyone willing to think and learn about this stuff, especially when it’s not their issue to tangle with. “Ability” is such an astonishing array of different spectra, it’s mind-boggling to try to comprehend it all. I can only truly grok my own disabilities in the sense that some people might be deeply hurt by a treatment/portrayal/word that I wouldn’t blink at, and vice versa. The sheer volume of shit I don’t know can overwhelm me. I think trying to learn is rewarding, but I personally don’t expect others to feel the same way, partly because they so seldom seem to. If that makes sense.
This was a truly excellent post. As someone who has a not-at-all-obvious disability (chronic migraine, ie: NEVER goes away, 5 years and counting) and very limited energy, I totally related to this.
As for anal stylings, I have no idea – but it’s great that there is one position where it IS awesome! Possibly it’s just to do with fitting puzzle pieces together, and this is where they fit the best.
xx Dee
@Curvaceous Dee Thanks for reading!
I might have to resign myself to living a life of monopositional anal. There are worse things.
@quizzical pussy
I’m 5’1″ and you just crushed my dreams, Quizzical Pussy.
@Holly Pervocracy Yep, I’m pretty much a dick. Sorry.
I love this post. You’re right, invisible disabilities really are brutal. I was raised to believe that every achievement, mental or physical, was just a matter of hard work, that ANYTHING was possible for ANYONE if they just worked hard enough. That went out the window when my back started freaking out. It taught me a lot about limits (mainly that they really do exist). At least with visible disabilities people don’t forget you have limits (I’m not saying they have it easier, though). When you have an invisible disability like a very gimpy back, many people assume that you can do anything a “normal” person can do, even after you’ve told them over and over that you can’t. They can’t see your disability, so they conveniently forget it.
And when test after test comes back from the doctor reading negative? They start trying to gently tell you that it’s all in your head. Because there’s no such thing as a disability that the doctors can’t pin down. It broke my heart that my own parents thought my crippling back pain was all in my head right up until the day a test finally came back positive.
The silver lining is that I’ve become much more understanding and accepting of others’ limits. I don’t think in the silence of my mind that fat people must be too lazy. I don’t quietly wonder if someone failed out of college because they couldn’t be bothered to work hard enough. I don’t assume that the unemployed are too lazy to get a job.
I’ve tried other positions for anal, and while they did work, the spooning position is still the most comfortable. Never tried to figure out why. If you do, let me know!