What do you mean you can’t feel it?

28th Nov 202228th Nov 2022 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 1 Comment

When we think about physical disability, a lot of the time many of us conjure the mental image of a severely physically disabled person who’s permanently confined to a wheelchair, miserable, and in serious need of society’s help. And if you’ve read enough of my blogs, then hopefully you’ll understand why this way of thinking is immensely damaging to literally everyone – regardless of whether you’re disabled or not. But today, the assumption about disability that I want to focus on is the one we make about the relationship between physical disability and pain.

A lot of the time, whether we’re watching an episode of DIY SOS, or Children in Need, or Me Before You, many of us assume that if a person has mild to severe physical ailments, then they’re probably in a lot of pain because of it. You hear that I’ve got Spina Bifida, you see me walking down the street wearing callipers, or getting out of a car after putting a disabled badge on display, and you figure that I probably have to take medication and I experience pain in my feet. (Obviously, you might not think about it at all, but if you are thinking about it, then this is often where the brain goes). It’s not an unfair assumption, and I’m not offended whenever people ask me whether I’m in pain, but it always makes for a fun back-and-forth when I then say that actually, one of the reasons why I develop problems is because I don’t experience any pain in my feet.

This is normally how it goes:

*at some point in the conversation the fact that I’m disabled has cropped up*

Them: So is it really painful?

Me: No, I actually don’t have much sensation below the knee on either leg. I can feel the inside, but not the outside. And I can’t move any of my toes – except my big toes, but even then, not really.

Them: Woah, that must be weird. Nice that you can’t feel if you’ve stood on something, though.

Me: Umm…hahahha…not really…If I stand on something, then I’m not gunna feel it, so I’m just gunna keep walking on it until it gets wedged further into my foot. My shoe could be filling up with blood and I’m not gunna know until I take it off. Then I’ve also got really bad circulation, so that’s going to take ages to heal. So it’d be kind of helpful for me to be able to feel it because then I’d know to not walk. But I get what you mean hahaha, it does mean I can kind of ignore it if I have a problem.

*and, scene.*

Basically, my relationship with pain in my legs is love-hate. If I had pain, then we probably could’ve avoided most of my foot problems – let alone the COUNTLESS internal monologues of stress, trying to guess whether something’s kicking off in my shoe – but obviously, I also don’t hate that someone can stand on my foot and it’s all good. Plus, it does make for hilarious stories, like how one time a guy told me he’d been playing footsie with me under the table for a literal hour and I’d had absolutely no clue…Or how every time somebody apologies profusely for standing on me, or accidentally kicking my foot, I tell them they can do it again if they want; it doesn’t bother me. Or that time that I didn’t know my friend’s house had underfloor heating until I fell over.

If there’s one thing that I’m trying to do on these online pages when I talk about disability, it’s to show you that that word is used to describe an infinite amount of variations of the human body. We use it when we deem something to have ‘gone wrong’, and in viewing it negatively, we always assume the worst. And I’m not saying that disability doesn’t come with problems – of course it does. There are disabled people who experience huge amounts of physical pain, who have to take loads of medication, or who are reliant on someone else to help them complete the most basic of tasks, but that isn’t all their lives are, nor is every assumption of what a disability is relevant to every disabled person.

But I’m not bringing this up to incite the ‘omg I hate people, why is everyone so closed-minded with their understanding of disability?’ response. Honestly, as you can see in the generalised example I gave before, I have a laugh with pretty much every person who asks me about how much pain I experience.

The fact is, society has a super problematic understanding of, and approach toward disability, but to sort that out, we’ve got to have conversations where it’s comfortable enough for somebody to get it wrong, then learn why without being humiliated or villainised for not knowing something that they have no direct experience of. As the person who’s being stereotyped, and treated a certain way because of lame assumptions, that can be difficult sometimes – understatement of the year. But you’d hope that by staying patient, and explaining it this time, the next time that that person comes across somebody with a disability, they’ll be better equipped to ask questions rather than make assumptions.

You’d hope.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year?

21st Nov 2022 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

When I graduated from university in the summer of this year, there were so many ‘next steps’ to complete that I never felt like I took a second to sit down and think about what I want from this part of my life. I’d already spent months juggling problems with my feet and writing essays, a dissertation, completing exams, and feeling totally disenfranchised with my university environment, so once it finished, to be honest I was relieved. Instead of taking a break from planning the next thing though, I just redirected my brain to going on holiday with my friend, spending time with my family, and the logistics of moving to a city to pursue a career.

I know that my ability to be super organised, focused, and to work like an absolute pack horse often gives people the impression that I have everything figured out, and honestly, sometimes I trick myself into thinking the same thing. It’s only really been since I’ve moved into this part of my life – away from the safety and structure of family and educational institutions – that I’ve realised there are so many parts of life where I’ve got absolutely no clue.

But you know what I’m going to say here, right?…That it’s totally okay to have no idea what you’re doing! In fact, it’s part of the fun.

I’ll level with you here though, and say that ‘living in the moment’ and not fixating on the million and one things I need to do next are not ways of living that come naturally to me. I’m a hard worker, and I’m a cup-half-full kind of a gal, but I’m also potentially one of the most impatient people you’ll ever meet. As in, I can experience a huge success on Monday and by Thursday, I’m texting my friends saying that I’m bored. But this is a habit that I’m really trying to get out of, because I’ve been given enough pep talks by drunken middle-aged women in the smoking area of pubs, to know that if I keep being this way, then one day I’ll wake up with wrinkles and greying hair, wondering where half of my life went.

(Shout-out to that brand of Yorkshire woman by the way; long may you ladies bring the flavour to the night-out.)

Unfortunately, so many of us spend a hefty amount of our time getting worked up over feeling like we don’t have every aspect of our lives figured out. I’ve had countless conversations with people of all ages stressing because they think that they’re not at the point they ‘should’ be at, but what does ‘should’ even mean anyway? Who decides what each of us ‘should’ be doing? Surely, that’s just us getting lost in social conventions and comparisons, before asking ourselves what it is we want to be doing right now and whether there’s anything we need to change to get there.

Maybe what I’ve written this week doesn’t feel relatable to you right now, but this is the time of the year when we’ve got to be extra aware of how those around us are feeling. I won’t lie to you, I love Autumn into Winter, but as much as I love watching the leaves change colour and hearing firework displays in the distance, this is also the season when many of us start to feel cold, tired, and fed up. I also know that a large proportion of my readers are British, so it’s likely that you suffer from our nation’s inability to talk about these types of feelings without aggressively cringing, and I get you; this blog isn’t that deep or existential, and still, I found it difficult to write what I wanted to say. But the momentary cringing or the incoherent sentences are better than the middle-of-the-night solo breakdown. So, if you’re feeling some type of way right now, then swallow your pride and just call your friend to talk about whatever’s on your mind; you might not share everything whilst you chat, but odds are, at some point in the conversation you’ll have a laugh. And when has that not helped to calm you down or cheer you up?

Maybe don’t answer EVERY question…

31st Oct 202231st Oct 2022 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I realised the other day that in the five years since I left school, I’ve spent a hefty amount of my time meeting and developing new relationships with people. I’ve travelled to lots of different places – both abroad and in Britain – and everywhere I’ve been I’ve come across people who I didn’t like, but more often than not, every new place brought me loads of new friends. In some cases, I even did a complete 180 in my opinion of someone as I acknowledged that your first impression of a person might not always be the best representation of what they’re actually like.

I’ve always been somebody who actively enjoys spending time with other people, however, even with this love for a ‘getting to know you’ conversation, I’ve noticed that in the past couple of years I’ve become far more cagey with a new group of people than I ever have been before. But to ensure that we’re all on the same page here, when I say ‘cagey’ I don’t mean that I’m rude or standoffish with people, it’s just that I’ve learned that it’s not always the best move to go into social situations as an entirely open book because by doing that, you don’t leave very much room to protect yourself.

When I was at school, I was the type of person who would tell anyone whatever they wanted to know about me: they could ask about my disability, my family, my fears, my aspirations, who I fancied, or literally anything else they could think of and I’d probably tell them the tale. In fact, I’d love telling the tale. This tendency towards openness and honesty isn’t something that I want to completely get rid of because without it we’d have no blog, and I also wouldn’t be myself, but there have been moments over the past few years when I realised just how exhausting it is to meet new people and answer all of these questions, only for many of those relationships to fizzle at some point. After all, once we’re out of school or university, most of us don’t have the time to maintain loads of friendships in between working and general living. So sometimes, it’s better to conserve your energy and not offload everything about yourself to whatever stranger you get along with for twenty minutes at a party, because repeatedly doing that in environments such as school, university, or a new job, really does take it out of you.

However, this newfound cageyness I’m talking about doesn’t just stem from the fact that it’s tired me out to be so honest, it’s also because I’ve sometimes been a little naive about who I can trust with the more vulnerable aspects of my personality. The fact is, that in order for any relationship to be fulfilling – be it platonic or romantic – there’s got to be an equal amount of effort put in by both sides, but if you’re like me then you might have had a few situations where you’ve realised that you’ve gotten upset because somebody hasn’t given you the same energy you were giving them, and even though that can be painful, were you maybe giving a little too much too quickly?..Then on the other side of this, have you potentially been the person in romantic relationships or friendships who has had somebody open up to you, and you haven’t respected their choice to do that in the way you should’ve?

I’ve probably done both, to be honest: I’ve definitely overshared and then been burnt by someone not caring as much as I thought they would, and I’m human, so I’ve undoubtedly been thought of as not being there for a person in the way they wanted me to be. Therefore, I’m not writing this blog because I think that there’s a perfect level of openness when forming relationships with new people – obvs, it’d be ideal for each of us to look into a crystal ball and know how much we can trust or rely on a person before we invest time into them, but that’d also take all the fun out of meeting and getting to know new people. So, I guess it’s about realising what works well for you in these situations.

For me, I was doing and giving way too much too quickly because I like knowing people really well (because I’m a freak and I find people very interesting), and I kind of figured that if I open up to someone then they’ll open up to me too, without respecting myself enough to acknowledge how exhausting it is to be that way. So, we’re not going to be a totally closed book, because human connection is one of the joys of everyone’s lives, we’re just going to be a liiiittle more selective about it to conserve energy and emotions. It’s all about give and take, and you’ve got to keep an eye on how much you’re letting people take versus how much they’re giving you.

It’s all just a bit too vanilla if you ask me

24th Oct 202224th Oct 2022 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

This is going to feel quite strange to type, but my blog is nothing if not a reflection of what my friends and I have been saying to each other recently, so I’m just going to get straight to it: the ladies in my life are immensely sexually frustrated right now. Some have already fallen victim to their impulses by texting someone that they absolutely shouldn’t, but I hold out hope that by bringing attention to this problem on the blog, we can save some of my friends from that same unfortunate fate.

But before we dive into the details of the sexual frustration complaints I’ve been hearing from the gals, I’d first like to draw attention to the fact that a woman’s desire for sex is vastly underestimated by our society. I mean, most cis lads I’ve come across have assumed that their libido has always been way stronger than that of their cis female peers, but my god, I dare you to spend twenty minutes in a women’s bathroom on a Friday night, or eavesdrop on a group of lasses having a meal together, and then tell me the same thing. Women aren’t nearly as passive as we’ve been told we should be.

Western society has always had a tendency to think that women should feel apathetic towards sex unless there’s something wrong with them, in which case they’re totally obsessed with sex to the point of mania. So basically, either a woman isn’t really bothered about it, or she’s got a problem. This, along with all the other super helpful aspects of living in a patriarchy, has meant that women often feel like they shouldn’t talk about their sexual desires because if they do then they’re going to come across as a slut. However, there’s often a moment in female friendships where you and the woman you’re speaking to try to work out whether this is a safe environment for you to say exactly what you’re feeling, without judgment. It doesn’t always work out this way, but if you’re able to establish that type of trust as an aspect of your friendship, then you’d be lucky if you ever stop talking about sex and relationships with each other.

So, let’s get back to what the ladies have been saying recently then, shall we? Well, the general consensus isn’t that these young women aren’t getting attention from men – lots of them have dating apps where they’re messaging a few lads, or they’ve got some sort of work romance on the go. Their frustration, it seems to me, is coming from the fact that they’re not excited by any of it; the lads they’re meeting up with are lovely, and the conversations are nice, but they want passion. They want someone to give them a good old (consensual, of course) grab, kiss them up against a wall, stop tiptoeing around, and be told exactly what the lad’s thinking so they don’t have to keep guessing and can skip to the fun bit.

But finding this type of connection is difficult and incredibly rare – I’m still holding out for it too gals, don’t worry, I get you. And it’s tricky because when we complain about this heavy sense of boredom we’re all feeling at the minute with dating and sex, we can forget that sometimes we’re expecting lads to read our minds and make all the moves. Clearly, this is us enjoying an aspect of patriarchy that places the man as the one responsible for moving a heterosexual romantic relationship along, but it’s not entirely fair to expect that. However, I for one have made a lot of moves on lads and haven’t gotten much back so yes, it’d be nice to have one do the same for me at some point. And I’m sorry boys, but from the many many tales I’ve heard from young women, you’re actually a bit hopeless at reading signs…even when those signs have been the lass literally saying ‘I really like you, let’s do something’. At that point, you’ve got nothing to lose man, take a (not so risky) riskkkkk.

It goes without saying that romantic relationships are difficult, and navigating the early stages with someone that you don’t really know that well, trying to work out whether you’ve upset them or stressed them out can induce a lot of daily stress. Also, I know that I’m coming at this from the cis-female heterosexual perspective and hence it won’t be relatable for everyone; for example, I’m sure that men have plenty of frustrations they’d love to voice about dating young women as well. But just because something isn’t relatable to everyone, doesn’t mean that it isn’t relatable to anyone, and I’ve had far too many conversations with my female friends recently where we’ve been laughing/screaming/laughing about the lack of romantic passion in our lives.

So, to conclude, the ladies don’t want to date or have sex for the sake of it right now, they want something exciting; someone to be interested in them enough to make romance and sex fun for everyone involved. We’re just holding out for a bit more flavour.

One operation, two operations, three operations, four…

18th Oct 202218th Oct 2022 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

If you’re an avid reader of my blogs, then it’s likely that you’ve seen me mention that I’ve had six operations because of my disability. But what’s funny, is that a lot of the time when I say these things about my lived experience with Spina Bifida, what I’m actually doing is repeating the speech I’ve always known as how to explain my disability to others – I’m not really thinking about the words I’m saying. For instance, it might surprise you to know that even though I talk about being disabled quite regularly, there are plenty of days when I almost have to remind myself that I have Spina Bifida. This is because the details of my condition and the way they physically ‘affect’ me aren’t constantly on my mind. But the times when this dissociation from my own disability gets the weirdest, is if I sit and properly think about my operations.

I had my first two operations when I was a baby and if I’m honest with you, I’m still not entirely clear on what they were for, what they were called, or how the procedures actually went. My basic understanding is that the goal was to drain some of the fluid in the lump on my back using tubes; I know they didn’t really work, and I know that I’ve still got a small plastic tube in my stomach because the doctors didn’t want to cause me any more trauma by making me have another operation to take it out. So, I’ve got a completely harmless plastic tube inside of me. Which (when I think about it) is weird, right?! But I don’t remember those operations, I just remember always knowing that that tube is inside of me because I can see the scar.

My next operation was on my right foot. My parents have told me that as a baby my feet were actually fine, and it was only when I started to walk (I think), that my right foot started to curve inwards so that I wasn’t placing the pressure where it should go and we started having some issues. Hence I had an operation to correct the positioning called a tendon transfer where they move a small piece of tendon from one side of your foot to the other to basically stretch it in a different way, so the bottom of your foot lies flat on the ground as you walk. (It’s difficult to explain in words…you might just have to google that one to get a visual aid). And again, I don’t remember being involved in the operation, but I know that I was because I can see the scars.

My final three operations were on my left foot – affectionately named by one of my best friends as the ‘attention-seeking foot’ because this little bugger has rarely stopped giving me grief since it decided to copy my right foot and curve inwards. The operations I had on this banter wagon were exactly the same as the one on my right foot, the only difference was that it took three tries (classic) because the first one got infected so you could see the bone from the outside, then the second attempt flopped, and by the third go, I had no more tendon left to transfer so it was less that the operations had ‘worked’, and more that my lovely surgeon had done the best he could. – He did kind of nail it tbf. I was in a wheelchair for 18 months during this part of my childhood.

What’s odd though, is that the time when I had these operations isn’t really something I recognise as my life because it all just sounds so medical. Obviously, I know that it happened because I’ve got scars and medical records to show for it, but I don’t ever remember thinking of myself as this regularly hospitalised child. Although, that isn’t to say that I don’t have memories of being in hospital gowns, and spending months with nurses coming to my house to dress my foot every day before I got in my wheelchair to go to school, or how the fever felt when my foot was so infected that the bone was visible. I remember all of that viscerally. But when I see the home videos of the little girl stumbling around, walking faster than her Spina Bifida feet could carry her, it’s difficult for me to watch because that level of blatantly obvious physical disability isn’t me in my head.

It goes without saying that I have my parents and my big brothers to thank for this, because if they’d ever brought attention to just how pronounced my disability was in my early childhood and restricted me according to that, then I wouldn’t be what I am. But then the funny flipside of being brought up this way, is that seeing images of little me limping around after my big brothers is bizarre and in some ways a little upsetting because oh my god, that’s me. I’ve heard all these stories about it but look! Look how much I couldn’t walk.

Still, in these same photographs, videos, and hazy memories of when my body was showing the purest form of my Spina Bifida, I couldn’t have cared less about it. This was also aided by the fact that no matter how bad my feet are, I never experience any direct pain because I don’t have any feeling in either of my feet. Therefore, infection or not, limp or not, I ran and explored as much as any other four-year-old did and the idea that I was ‘disabled’ was totally irrelevant to my experience of life. But my brain will always be wired this way, so it can get strange sometimes when I realise just how disabled I actually am.

Swipe right if you need help

10th Oct 2022 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Now, this blog is nothing if I don’t use it as a way to transcribe and elaborate on conversations I’ve had with friends, and recently, no matter who I’ve been talking to, all anyone wants to talk (or rant) about is dating apps. So, when in Rome…

Once again, we’ve found ourselves in the time of year when it’s starting to get colder, the days are shortening, and all of a sudden everyone’s hot girl summer is over and we’re all starting to feel self-conscious about our relationship status as we settle back into a work or university routine. Then, when we mix all these seasonal life changes with our reliable friend boredom, we end up sitting on the sofa watching tv one night, downloading a dating app to get some attention from a stranger. It’s a toxic tale as old as time.

Personally, I’m not a fan of dating apps. I don’t like trying to pre-empt which photographs best represent what I look like and how I am as a person, and honestly, every time I make a profile it just ends up making me feel lame because I can nEVER think of something witty to write in a bio. All of a sudden everything interesting about myself completely disappears from my brain, so I go for the less is more approach, but now I look boring. Then as the swiping commences, I get more superficial and judgemental than I would normally be as I over-analyse every photograph and bit of text I come across, looking for someone who’s done everything in their profile I couldn’t manage twenty minutes ago. Next, there’s the texting. Oh my god I hate the texting. I just can’t be bothered!!! Which is so silly because by the time I’ve made it to the texting part, we’ve both already established that we’re somewhat interested in each other, so this part should be simple. But nope, something in my brain switches and tells me that I now don’t fancy them at all because I can’t be bothered to small talk, so I probably keep the app for a couple more days until I eventually delete it again.

Although, I’ve not met a single person who loves having these dating apps, so why is it that it’s started to feel like you have to have them if you want to meet someone?

We say that we don’t want anything intense and we want meeting someone to be natural, but then we spend time on these apps which encourage us to be picky about literally everything. I mean, I aired someone the other day because he’d texted me asking me about three questions in one go and I felt like I didn’t have the time or the energy to answer. But if someone asked me those questions in person, I’d be all over it, so why did I air him just because he’d texted it?! WhERE is the logic? (The questions, by the way, were about my favourite book, where I’m from, and why I’ve moved here – all lovely questions, so I had literally no excuse to not answer them.)

When I sit and have these types of conversations with my friends, it’s funny really, because we can all identify that we’re acting in totally nonsensical ways just because we feel like we should have these apps and we should be talking to someone. But thankfully, I’m not lonely enough right now to be upset about not dating anyone, so the frustrations which come with dating apps aren’t hitting me as hard as they have before. This is partly because I’m constantly busy, but also because honestly, I – like many young people in this country – have accepted that the world of romantic relationships is a big old mess right now, and that you’ve really got to not let that get to you.

So, keep the dating apps if you want to, but make sure that you do like Marie Kondo says, and you throw them away if they’re not sparking joy.

There’s no shame if you download it again three months later though, we’ve all been there.

Quick! Someone get the stress ball!

4th Oct 2022 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

As a member of the most stressed and depressed generation ever studied by science, I thought that I would take this week’s blog as an opportunity to explain how I deal with stress in my everyday life. The short answer: not very well.

Lol

Actually, to be fair, that’s not entirely true…but I don’t want to kick this off by giving you the impression that I’m always on top of my own stress levels, and that I know exactly how to regulate my feelings in order to avoid having breakdowns because I’m not and I don’t. Generally speaking, I’m what some might call a ‘stress-head’, or ‘overthinker’. I don’t deal well when I can’t be in control of situations – be they relating to work or romantic relationships, or anything in between – and I’ve been known to take on too much all at the same time, overloading myself until eventually I get burnt out, have a (minor) meltdown, then wake up the next day to do it all over again.

Knowing this about myself though, I still don’t believe that stress is an entirely negative emotion – as long as you’re self-aware enough to recognise when it’s overwhelming you. For example, ever since moving to London last month, I’ve been so stressed that I’ve lost weight and my period was ten days late. (I realise that these don’t sound like very dramatic consequences of stress, nonetheless, they are clear examples of a tangibly physical reaction to something going on in my head.) But even though pretty much every day since I’ve lived here has been punctuated by to-do lists and an endless amount of unknowns, I actually feel pretty good; I don’t feel stressed in the negative sense of the word.

Don’t get me wrong, the first week or so of living in this city was purely bad stress, but as I mentioned in a blog a few weeks ago, my parents helped me get out of that panic by urging me to take everything one thing at a time. This advice sounds so obvious, but if you’re an overthinker like me, then you’ll know that it’s far easier to think about the million and one things you need to do, or what could go wrong, all at once than it is to focus on just one thing for today. Honestly, I’m still not fully there yet, but this month has definitely been an exercise in recognising when I’m about to wind myself up, taking a breath, and then just not letting myself stress about the thing I was going to stress about.

I’m in a good position, however, given that a lot of my stress at the minute is based on things that I love. For example, finding ways to squeeze in writing blogs or going to radio stations might take a toll on my energy at a given moment, but I love doing it, so I don’t end the day feeling bitter about how tired I am. Still, even if you adore what’s making you stressed, that doesn’t mean that the mental exhaustion won’t eventually catch up with you, so it’s important that even if you feel fine, you do little things to keep an eye on yourself. I’m going to sound like one of those American yoga teachers right now, but think about the little things that you could do which could help you to focus on what you really want to do in the day. For instance, if there’s a time when my stress is going to show itself in me getting angry, then it’s going to be if I see that my room or my kitchen is unclean or untidy. So I keep my room and my kitchen neat; tidy home, tidy mind n that.

It might seem silly to talk about these things, but judging from social media, we’re way better at listing all the problems with ourselves than we are at helping each other to find some solutions. So, I’d like to reiterate that this has not been me saying ‘ooo look at me, I’m so self-aware that I never have a breakdown because of stress’, because I wouldn’t have a blog if I wasn’t an over-thinker and stress-head. But I’m trying my best to be better at not letting my mind just run, and trying is all we can do really innit.

If you are feeling a little strung-out at the minute though, top tips are: deep breath, lots of water, plenty of sleep, read a book before bed, listen to music, keep your room tidy, have a cry if you need to, and speak to someone who makes you laugh.

You’ve gotta stick to your lane

27th Sep 2022 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I’m the type of person who, in the appropriate situation, would like to look, be, or say something sexy. I’ll go on a night out, spot a wall which looks kind of cool and ask a friend to take a photograph of me in front of it, thinking ‘omg yes this’ll be a good shot’. But then the second the camera starts flashing, I can hold my face for a few seconds before I’ve got absolutely no idea what to do with myself and I end up pulling a stupid face. Orrrrrr, I’ll think I’ve nailed it until my friend hands me back the phone and my figure just hasn’t given what I’d envisioned…so all of the shots head straight to the recycling bin. But it’s not that I’m being consciously self-critical in these moments, it’s just that I don’t think that I give off ‘sexy’ vibes…

By this, I think what I mean is that I don’t see myself as demonstrating a very specific version of femininity associated with models and actresses. I’m visualising the lasses who can take the fire pictures, with the perfect bodies, in the expensive underwear, with the sultry eye contact from across the bar, and the bad bitch vibe where the men come running the second they walk into the room. And even though this expression of femininity is gorgeous, often it’s been constructed in order to make women sexually desirable to men. However, connotations of patriarchy and misogyny aside (very difficult to sweep them aside, but stick with me here), I do still want to be sexy and desirable every now and then – probably even if it comes with a hint of objectification – because in that context it’s on my own terms, but no matter my intentions I just don’t think that I give off that sultry kind of energy.

Hence I wonder, is my slight discomfort with the word a disability thing? Possibly. I mean, for centuries the (physically) disabled body has never been portrayed as sexually desirable, in fact, people have often been encouraged to think of the idea of disabled people having sex as repulsive (if it’s ever thought to happen at all). So yes, that’s probably playing a part in my inner monologue. But I don’t think that that’s the main thing going on here; I think what’s happening is that part of me is assuming that you can only really be ‘sexy’ if others describe you in that way.

We (particularly women) seem to like to categorise ourselves and our friends: at some point, we’ve all decided – actively or passively – who is the ‘cute’ one, the ‘pretty’ one, the ‘funny’ one, the ‘clever’ one, the ‘sexy’ one, and so on and so forth, as if there’s a correct way to be each one of those characteristics. These categories then cement to each of us what we are (and what we’re not), so when we’re described as a word that’s outside of our lane, we assume that a mistake’s been made i.e., I’ve never been the ‘sexy’ one in any friendship group, so that’s probably why I don’t see myself in that light.

So even though I’ve never ended a blog with a homework task, get ready! Because this week I’d like to ask that you consider whether there’s a word (or words) you’ve told yourself you could never be. Then, if you’ve thought of one, the next time you go to the place or do the thing that allows you the time to be with yourself and have a good old think, I’d like you to consider why you can’t be that thing. Finally, once you’ve (hopefully) come to the conclusion that you’re being silly and should stop putting yourself in a box, stop thinking and go do something fun; that’s enough of the internal monologue for one day. Wouldn’t want to overthink it, now would we? Or did I do that already?…

Well that was a bit silly of me

5th Sep 2022 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Okay but, why is it that whenever I get bored, lonely, or horny (or heaven forbid a combination of all three), I think it wise to make some stupid decisions? Something happens in my head where I think that for some reason, a lad who I’m definitely not that interested in not only requires my attention, but he also deserves my stress and occasionally even my tears. I swear to you, if I had a pound for every time I’ve gotten irritated over some romantic situation, where, if I actually took a step back and thought about it, I’d decide I was really not that invested anyway, then I would be a very rich woman right now.

And I know that everyone says this but I promise you, pinky swear and lock it in, I don’t enjoy the unsaid games which happen before you’re in a relationship with someone. I can’t be bothered to wait for ages to text someone back, I don’t care about how long they take to text me back – unless it becomes clear that they’re playing the game, then that does irritate me – but more than anything, I hate how being involved in the game makes me overthink EVERYTHING. And yet, I still do it! Often with people I don’t even like that much! I’m also incredibly picky and very very rarely say yes to going on a date with someone. So am I part of my own problem? Possibly.

I think that part of it is that if you actually sit and think about the efforts a person would have to take to not think, speak about, or see romantic relationships in everyday life then you come to realise that it’s kind of impossible. Every time you turn the television on, it doesn’t matter if it’s reality tv or a drama, odds are there’s a hefty section devoted to finding a relationship, being in one, or leaving one. Then you walk down the street and someone’s being cute with their partner, or there are advertisements suggesting what you should do with your partner, or what you should buy them. Plus, you’re judged if you go out and do things on your own, let alone the lame fact that it’s kind of unsafe for a woman to fly solo in towns and cities once the sun has gone down, so even if you wanted to go for a drink on your own, there’s that little voice in your head wondering whether it’s worth the potential hassle.

Therefore, we’re encouraged to be lonely, we get bored, and if those two weren’t enough, the sex drive comes along to make us momentarily ignore that part of our brains which tells us that something is probably not a great idea. Because maybe it is a good idea for the near future. And it’s not that deep anyway! And they’re interested in me! Or they seem to be… And it’ll make for a fun story to tell everyone tomorrow morning.

I try not to waste time regretting my actions, since I know that if I were put in the situation again, I’d probs do the same thing anyway, but sometimes the embarrassment does find its way into my internal monologues and when it does, you’ve got to flush that shit away like a spider in the bath.

But second-hand embarrassment aside, at least I try to treat people the way I’d like to be treated so it’s not as if I’m out here being a massive cow when I’m making questionable decisions. However, this isn’t the part where I promise never to text someone who I know is only going to play some game and then irritate me by doing that, because ladies and gentlemen, I am silly at times. Buuuutttt, I will congratulate myself for finally being decent at knowing when enough is enough and just deleting the conversation thread. That’s some solid character progression right there. Go me.

Consistency is key

5th Jul 20222nd Sep 2022 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

No matter how much I post about my disability on the internet, I am not, and never have been, very good at asking for help with it. I can do my own TedTalk in a room full of strangers about how ‘it impacts my life’, or overshare on the internet, but internally, I still wince from embarrassment each time I have to ask someone to alter their actions to accommodate my disability.

As a little girl, I had six operations which caused me to spend prolonged periods of time in a wheelchair and at hospital appointments, but I still don’t remember ever feeling ‘different’ because of that – shout-out to some top-tier parenting from Mr and Mrs Douglas there. Obviously, there were times when I was confused and frightened by it all; I mean, I remember the fever when an operation on my left foot got infected so the bone could be seen from the outside, I remember bawling my eyes out every time my parents told me I had to go in my wheelchair, and I still physically cringe when I think about getting stitches taken out of my feet after operations. But in and amongst all of that, I climbed as many hills as my able-bodied brother whenever we went camping, and I have no memories of feeling lesser than my peers or my siblings because I was ‘disabled’. However, I’ve come to realise that this was largely due to the fact that until I was in my mid-to-late teens, my disability wasn’t my own; it was my parents’. This Spina Bifida that everyone told me about was something I knew I had, but the dealing with it was something my parents did; like any six-year-old, I just went wherever I was told with a smile on my face and a Cinderella dress on.

Stuff started to get a bit sticky when I was a young teenager though, because by this point my friends and I were old enough to go into town on our own. So, instead of having the luxury of being lifted onto my Dad’s or my oldest brothers’ backs when the walking distances started to get a bit too far, I had to rely on my 14-year-old friends being emotionally aware enough to know the limits of my disability, even though I’ve always been too embarrassed and too stubborn to bring it up. Inevitably, this didn’t go very well and there were a lot of angry tears at the kitchen table.

Then in my late teens, I did really try to quieten my ego in favour of being responsible with my feet. But that’s indescribably difficult to do when not a single person around you is having to do the same – not to mention the fact that I’ve also got a naturally adventurous, ‘go on then!’ attitude which makes me want to do things I probs shouldn’t. So I effectively had to go through a period where I mourned the fact that I was too old to ignore my disability now; I had to grow up a bit. But thankfully, the wallowing didn’t last very long since crying over not being able to run a marathon or go on a hike for four hours wasn’t going to change anything. Plus, I can do plenty of other stuff anyway.

Sometimes I do still feel the loss though, like when I’m walking through town with my friends and they’re walking faster than me, my legs are getting tired, and I’m getting out of breath trying to keep up. Or, when another person in a Council or Security uniform tells me I can’t park here, that there aren’t any disabled spaces, and that they don’t know where I can go. Or at the thought of going on a date with someone I’ve just met, them wanting to walk around, me not being able to, and having to talk about my disability before I get to say anything else about myself.

Basically, I find asking for help with my disability humiliating and exposing, and I’ve been disappointed by a lot of people before, so it’s likely that if you do offer to help me out, even though I’ll obviously really appreciate it, it’ll take me a minute before I trust that you’re not going to forget next time. I know that that can be annoying if you’re intentions are sincere, but I can’t help it.

If you do want to be supportive of someone with a disability, I think the best piece of advice I can give you is to be as subtle and consistent with your actions as you can. I might speak very publicly about disability, but even I don’t want it to be brought up in every conversation – in fact, the best-case scenario for me if I’m out and about, is you being the one to suggest sitting down or getting an uber because you’re tired. That way, my legs are looked after and I don’t feel guilty or embarrassed for making you do something you wouldn’t normally have to.

An Indelible Friend

Tag: relationships