Never Judge A Book...

I have always been accustomed to being seen as a fairly fit and capable individual. I’m not an imposing figure in my physical appearance (at all) but I have always been seen as a guy who can work hard and get a job done. I have usually been a go-to guy for help with home repairs, moving days, and any projects that require a little knowledge and elbow grease.  Even beyond family and friends, employers have never accused me of being incapable or unwilling regarding physical work. All in all I can say with honesty that I have been a physically capable person throughout my life. I have never really lacked in energy or strength.

One of the big differences after the motorcycle accident and the resulting injuries involves the way in which people see me now. I get the very strong impression that I’m now seen as being weak and fragile. Relatives who have asked me for help with things in the past never ask for help with projects around the home anymore. I know that they’ve needed help with things, but no one really asks. People at church do things around the property and refuse to allow me the ability to help. I use a lectern and chair to teach my Sunday School class and men who are years older than me insist on carrying those two items for me before and after each class.

I’m often asked by family and friends alike if I’m “OK”. They always ask with a sympathetic and compassionate tone, sort of the way that you would talk to a kitten when it gets scared by thunder (“are you OK Mister Whiskers”?). I know that my eyes often look tired, but inside I’m good to go. There’s just no good way to explain to others that they’re diminishing a small piece of me inside each time that I’m treated like a tragic invalid. I do know that I’m not as physically sound as I was before the accident, but it sometimes makes things worse when the damage is highlighted through the limited perceptions of others. Reality set in long ago for me regarding the level of healing that I will ever achieve, but I’m in pretty good shape for a guy in his 50’s who had his body beat up so badly through a single event. The thing is that the verbal mirrors set before me by others don’t help me in any way and instead serve to make me feel worse.

I guess that the key is to adjust and then adjust some more. I have to accept that people express concern and treat me sympathetically because they love me, and that in the end love is a greater commodity than usefulness.