With tomorrow marking 2011's International Day of Acceptance, I have been pondering the topic quite a bit. It took me awhile to realize that in order to allow others to accept me just the way I am, and to love me for just who I am, I had to first accept and love myself.
People have always told me that they admire the positive attitude I have toward myself and my disability... and I thank them for their encouragement. But my attitude hasn't always been so upbeat, and on somedays, after spending 30 minutes with 5 pairs of shoes that match my outfit and two uncooperative feet, my attitude is still a little lackluster.
Self-acceptance is a process, an on-going goal that I accomplish everyday, when I look in the mirror and decide to like what I see. I take self-acceptance, day-by-day, just as I take others' acceptance of me. I expect you to accept me as I am, of course, but how can I expect more acceptance from you than I am willing to grant myself?
Self-acceptance is a process-- definitely worthy of multiple blog entries. It has taken me awhile to become as comfortable with myself as I am today. So I will start my examination of my journey to self acceptance by taking a look back at a time when I was less accepting.
From a blog post in 2004 before I began law school:
"Go for the Gold!
There's a song on the new Alanis Morisette CD that I really like. It's called "Naked" but don't let the title make you think it's dirty...
The song is about letting go and being free of your limitations.
Often I think of what it would be like if I woke up and didn't have crutches (because I didn't need them anymore).
Some people may find that morbid, but it actually makes me happy to think of everything that I could do if I was allowed to give up my need for two metal legs.
For example, I've always wanted to be a dancer/figure skater. Sometimes I imagine myself winning the gold.
I imagine my body being graceful and uninhibited.
Graceful enough to fly through the air in sproadic twists and turns.
Graceful enough to ballroom and swing dance with my husband on our wedding night.
Graceful enough to carry, deliver, and properly care for my own children,
It's true that if I could just be free of my limitations, I would feel that I had truly won the gold, that I was at the most awesome place in my earthly life.
You'd think that reminiscing about something that could never happen would make me sad. But instead, it makes me hopeful. Every time I wake up wishing for the day without limitations, I realize that I am much closer to that day than I think. I know that if I work hard enough, it will finally come to me. Not in this life, but in the next.
And my gold medal will be good for more than just a few years after.It will last forever. God has given me these limitations for a reason, and I will do my best to handle them positively. Because in the end, my reward in Heaven will more than make up for any nitpicky things I had to deal with down here."
Now, don't get me wrong, I still agree with the main point of this post. I look forward to the day when Earthly superficialities no longer matter. When my soul will be the only part of me that people can see. When my daydreams about duct-taping pumps to my feet won't matter, because I'll be concerned with nothing but praising God forever.
That being said, I think, in my previous post, I was selling myself short. It seems I hadn't accepted what I could do, but only everything I couldn't.
I may not be able to figure skate, but I can ride a bi-ski down a mountain. I can snowtube and SCUBA-dive and run 5 k races.
I may not be able to ballroom dance... but I got rhythym. I can CP-shake with the best of 'em to some Lady Gaga. And if my husband wants to dance on our weddding night, I am more than capable of a very slow two-step (which is more than some able bodied people can say). We can even take a crippy-swing class... as long as he can overlook my not-so-dirty-dancing shoes.
I don't know if I can have children, but I know that I want them. And even if I'm never married, I would love to adopt an older child on my own. And if I do have my own flesh-and-blood baby (God-wiling) I will make sure that he or she has everything he/she needs to live a happy, healthy childhood.
I'm still going for that heavenly gold. It's still what's most important to me. But at the same time, I want to make sure that I do not waste the talents that God has given me for use on this Earth. I accept my limitations for what they are-- yes, I do. But my limitations do not define my life. I do. I may not be able to do things exactly as I would like, every day... but who can... able-bodied or not?
Self-acceptance is a process. I accept myself today. But accepting myself doesn't equate to stifling my desires or selling-short my abilities. Every day, when I look in the mirror and make that conscious decision to like what I see for one more day, I remind myself of what my Daddy always said to his little, blonde-haired girl: if you want something bad enough.... If you believe in it, no matter what stands in your way, and you work hard to make it happen, it will.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Words
I recently had an interview with the Pentagon Channel to discuss my experiences with the Workforce Recruitment Program for College Students with Disabilities. It was a wonderful opportunity and I'm so grateful to be able to spread the word about the WRP and the opportunity it provides for students with disabilities to be exposed to the federal government workforce. I was lucky enough to land this interview because someone from the Pentagon Office of Public Affairs had seen me participating in another documentary and tracked me down to ask for my time.
I had to let my boss know about the interview obviously, because it was during work hours, so about a month ago, I walked into her office and let her know that the Pentagon Channel wanted to interview me. There were a few people standing in her office when I approached the door. I had to get back to the Reporter within the hour, so I stuck my head in the doorway and let her know. She was fine with it; she just asked me to put the interview on the calendar once it was scheduled.
As I was walking out the door, a co-worker followed me. Our exchange was is below:
Co-worker: "You know they're only interviewing you because you have a disability, right?"
Me: "Well, yes, in a sense. It would be silly to interview someone who doesn't have a disability about their experience in a program for students with disabilities."
Co-worker: "Well, what I mean is... they are not interviewing me because I don't have [a disability]."
Me: "Huh?" (befuddled look)
Co-worker: "They're only interviewing you because you have a disability. They are not interviewing you because of any skills or knowledge you might possess. I'm just putting that on the table."
Me: "I don't know that that is true, but even so, what does it matter? If I can present a positive, articulate image of federal employees with disabilities, maybe I can change an attitude or two."
Co-worker: "Well, I understand it doesn't matter to you how you get your foot in the door, but you know me, I'm just telling you the truth."
Conversations like the one above are one reason why I need a new job. It's hard to work around people who don't think about what they say, or think too little about what they say, in a field centered around words and the perception of them. Let's face it; most basic discrimination cases involve a breakdown in communication where, at some point, the words exchanged between two parties either lost all meaning or found new meaning within the mind of the speaker or listener. It's important, especially in a workplace, to think about what we say and how we say it. I'm not saying that we should walk on eggshells and worry every second how someone might perceive a "Hello" or a "Good Morning," but we should at least make sure that everything we say has a purpose, and that we know what the purpose of our statements are before they grace our lips.
What was the point of the exchange above? What did my co-worker hope to achieve by saying those things? If her goal was to make me feel a little crappy, she succeeded. Not enough to make me run away crying... but still. What other effects could those words have had? What was their point? As professionals, we really need to ask ourselves these questions from time to time.
Case and point: Yesterday, I was talking to the office Director about what she did over the holiday and she told me that she played a game her friend calls "autistic scrabble" over the weekend. Imagine me, again with the befuddled look.
"Well," she said, "it's a game where everyone has her own set of tiles and works alone to use all of them and the quickest."
Me: "Why are you calling it "autistic scrabble" again?"
Director: "Well, because you know, autistic people like to do everything by themselves."
Three things:
1. Apparently she doesn't know Matthew Hunt, or hasn't read anything by Temple Grandin, or John Elder Robinson.
2. It's never a good idea to make a generalization about all people with a certain disability. She should know that as the Director of an EEO office. And they are people first. People, who have autism.
3. If it's a joke, it wasn't that funny. I didn't laugh.
My family and friends joke and laugh with my brother about his traits that are a part of his autism, but we love them and him, and wouldn't want it any other way. We all have our quirks.
But to make a blanket generalization, that is in a sense making fun of all people with a certain disability is nowhere near the same. I'm not sure why she thought that would be funny to me... maybe because my brother has autism. Maybe because I have a disability.
Yeah.
Not so much.
I had to let my boss know about the interview obviously, because it was during work hours, so about a month ago, I walked into her office and let her know that the Pentagon Channel wanted to interview me. There were a few people standing in her office when I approached the door. I had to get back to the Reporter within the hour, so I stuck my head in the doorway and let her know. She was fine with it; she just asked me to put the interview on the calendar once it was scheduled.
As I was walking out the door, a co-worker followed me. Our exchange was is below:
Co-worker: "You know they're only interviewing you because you have a disability, right?"
Me: "Well, yes, in a sense. It would be silly to interview someone who doesn't have a disability about their experience in a program for students with disabilities."
Co-worker: "Well, what I mean is... they are not interviewing me because I don't have [a disability]."
Me: "Huh?" (befuddled look)
Co-worker: "They're only interviewing you because you have a disability. They are not interviewing you because of any skills or knowledge you might possess. I'm just putting that on the table."
Me: "I don't know that that is true, but even so, what does it matter? If I can present a positive, articulate image of federal employees with disabilities, maybe I can change an attitude or two."
Co-worker: "Well, I understand it doesn't matter to you how you get your foot in the door, but you know me, I'm just telling you the truth."
Conversations like the one above are one reason why I need a new job. It's hard to work around people who don't think about what they say, or think too little about what they say, in a field centered around words and the perception of them. Let's face it; most basic discrimination cases involve a breakdown in communication where, at some point, the words exchanged between two parties either lost all meaning or found new meaning within the mind of the speaker or listener. It's important, especially in a workplace, to think about what we say and how we say it. I'm not saying that we should walk on eggshells and worry every second how someone might perceive a "Hello" or a "Good Morning," but we should at least make sure that everything we say has a purpose, and that we know what the purpose of our statements are before they grace our lips.
What was the point of the exchange above? What did my co-worker hope to achieve by saying those things? If her goal was to make me feel a little crappy, she succeeded. Not enough to make me run away crying... but still. What other effects could those words have had? What was their point? As professionals, we really need to ask ourselves these questions from time to time.
Case and point: Yesterday, I was talking to the office Director about what she did over the holiday and she told me that she played a game her friend calls "autistic scrabble" over the weekend. Imagine me, again with the befuddled look.
"Well," she said, "it's a game where everyone has her own set of tiles and works alone to use all of them and the quickest."
Me: "Why are you calling it "autistic scrabble" again?"
Director: "Well, because you know, autistic people like to do everything by themselves."
Three things:
1. Apparently she doesn't know Matthew Hunt, or hasn't read anything by Temple Grandin, or John Elder Robinson.
2. It's never a good idea to make a generalization about all people with a certain disability. She should know that as the Director of an EEO office. And they are people first. People, who have autism.
3. If it's a joke, it wasn't that funny. I didn't laugh.
My family and friends joke and laugh with my brother about his traits that are a part of his autism, but we love them and him, and wouldn't want it any other way. We all have our quirks.
But to make a blanket generalization, that is in a sense making fun of all people with a certain disability is nowhere near the same. I'm not sure why she thought that would be funny to me... maybe because my brother has autism. Maybe because I have a disability.
Yeah.
Not so much.
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