They Didn’t Even Know
I was dumb struck recently. I was visiting some cousins of mine in Edmonton. They had absolutely no idea I couldn’t see them. They knew I was blind but they had no idea to the impact of my blindness. My cousin asked why I didn’t talk to their child. I had to respond I can’t see them and I don’t know them, I didn’t know they were yours.
I had no idea the disservice I had done myself and all of those in my life by hiding my disability. By hiding my blindness by lying about it. None of them now realize I can’t see. They assume and I’ve supported this view that all I can’t do is drive. Which isn’t true at all there are many things I have to do differently or just can’t do at all.
I am still very frustrated at the culture I perceive. The culture of if you can do it once you can always do it. The culture of if your high functioning sometimes you are high functioning all the time. Good Grief none of it is true. I’m disappointed in the culture as the perception of functionality is used not to accommodate those with need. The perception of functionality is a heads in the sand, sweep it under the rug approach to those marginalized, those in need.
I now realize why I grew up hiding my disability. Your not allowed to talk about it. Your not allowed to appear different or weak. I suppose I can understand why my family never acknowledged it and never talked about it. I suppose I can understand why no one in my family talked about it. But really I can’t. Not being allowed to talk about my disability has left tremendous scares. Its living like you’ve been molested and told not to talk about it or you’ll die.
I am cutoff from my family.
There is a family reunion in July but I’m not going. There is nothing there for me. I don’t golf, I don’t drink, I don’t play sports. I can’t see the people to connect to them and even though I’m now carrying a white cane none of them realize I can’t see them. I don’t know them by their face. I only know them by their voice, their smell, the conversation we’ve had in the past. There are very few people on this earth that I can recognize from a distance. Very very few, less than 1/2 a dozen perhaps.
Besides how do I show my shameful face. I’ve lied to them.
I have lied my whole life about my disability. Forced to accommodate those cowards
around me who couldn’t or wouldn’t deal with the reality of the disability. Ashamed of lying not ashamed of who I am and my disability. Now I am alone and ashamed.
I am still very frustrated at the culture I perceive. The culture of if you can do it once you can always do it. The culture of if your high functioning sometimes you are high functioning all the time. Good Grief none of it is true. I’m disappointed in the culture as the perception of functionality is used not to accommodate those with need. The perception of functionality is a heads in the sand, sweep it under the rug approach to those marginalized, those in need.
I now realize why I grew up hiding my disability. Your not allowed to talk about it. Your not allowed to appear different or weak. I suppose I can understand why my family never acknowledged it and never talked about it. I suppose I can understand why no one in my family talked about it. But really I can’t. Not being allowed to talk about my disability has left tremendous scares. Its living like you’ve been molested and told not to talk about it or you’ll die.
I am cutoff from my family.
There is a family reunion in July but I’m not going. There is nothing there for me. I don’t golf, I don’t drink, I don’t play sports. I can’t see the people to connect to them and even though I’m now carrying a white cane none of them realize I can’t see them. I don’t know them by their face. I only know them by their voice, their smell, the conversation we’ve had in the past. There are very few people on this earth that I can recognize from a distance. Very very few, less than 1/2 a dozen perhaps.
Besides how do I show my shameful face. I’ve lied to them.
I have lied my whole life about my disability. Forced to accommodate those cowards
around me who couldn’t or wouldn’t deal with the reality of the disability. Ashamed of lying not ashamed of who I am and my disability. Now I am alone and ashamed.
About the Author: kyle
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