I Hate My Mind. I Hate my Body.
As a child I thought my life was normal. Seizure medications, Lots of injections, MRI’s, Hospital stays, vomiting a lot and given cherry flavor ice popsicles. Oh god I hate cherry flavor now.
It was at the age of seven when I started to lose the function of my body. I wasn’t the fastest runner in my class anymore, I was the slowest. I wasn’t the first picked anymore, I was the last.
People started treating me differently. I use to be outgoing, People started to ask me questions like, “What’s wrong with you?” What do you mean?
“Why do you walk like that?” Walk like what? I walk normal don’t I?
“Why do you wear that on your hand ?” Because they tell me to. Why don’t you have one?
I was soon growing tired of being asked the same question constantly. I became self-conscious of everything I did. I hated talking to people because all they did and still do is stare at my braces and ask.
My body restricted me from doing activities growing up and it still does to this day. At a young age I soon started to notice that I wasn’t normal and that is when I started hating my body. I couldn’t enjoy the things I once did.
I could not ride my bike.
I could not jump rope.
I could not do push-ups.
I could not do patty cakes.
I could not even clap.’
As days went by there was another thing I couldn’t do. I still cannot open a jar, catch a ball with both hands, never will I be able to put my hair up in a pony tail. Growing up like this was difficult. In middle school I was bullied and that was the first time I thought about not wanting to live anymore. Luckily one of my teachers caught on what was happening and I am and will be forever grateful. Tell you the truth, I don’t think I would be here if it wasn’t for her.
Growing up with this rare disease is a curse. I had to re-learn how to do everything. To showering on my own which was hard as I had horrible balance, there were multiple falls. It was hard opening shampoo bottles with one hand. I had to learn how to brush my teeth, get dressed which putting on socks were the hardest and re-learn how to tie a shoe. I slowly adapted to do things one-handed.
I remember when I was young and they decided to do Botox injections to treat the spasticity on my arm and leg. I was on panic mode. I was kicking and screaming while my mother was at my side telling me that was for my own good as the nurses and doctor finally managed to hold me down. I was injected throughout my whole left arm and leg. You can’t imagine the pain. I felt like I was being punished for something I didn’t do or for something that was inside of me.
PART 1
