Deep Acceptance

I remember a few years back having this very specific conversation with a friend, it was about acceptance of my disability and predicament. He said, so you’ve obviously accepted this life by now, however, I had this rather strange response – it was no. The word acceptance has always made my skin itch and bones quiver, kinda like if I had a fear of spiders, the thought of acceptance would be like planting a tarantula on my face. You see, instead, I’ve always followed the path of surrender.

Now, there’s two “outdated” perspectives that I should offer up before saying anything else:

One is that, at one point, I’m pretty sure I used to confuse surrender and acceptance for being the same thing (when there is in fact a few very important differences). And because I was all in on surrender, then even to some extent the notion of fate or God’s plan, this gave me comfort (well, in an uncomfortable way, haha), still, in my mind I thought I had acceptance covered. Or, maybe more specifically, subconsciously, having this surrender perspective that I did, this meant that I could be content in never fully owning my shit. Yep, read that last sentence again.

Okay my next admission before deep diving into the topic of acceptance – I hate my disability and predicament. Like hate, hate, hate. And precisely where this hatred lies, not only is it in the extent of my disability, it’s the level of restriction that results. Or, even how my dreams and aspirations have now been somewhat limited, and many of these are simple, commonplace and everyday aspirations too. I won’t talk about this too much though, I mean, I think the implications of not being able to use your body are pretty obvious (and the subsequent invasive personal care that is required), but geez truly, having a body and not being able to use it “at all” is bloody stupid and unfair. It’s like being given a car without the keys. It defies logic.

Anyhow, for me, I’m all in on trying to accept at the moment. I have to be. So, no matter how much I hate my predicament, no matter how much disgust is in my heart, this is my cross to bear. And as much as I’ve tried to avoid it, even use these strategies such as surrender, or you could go as far as saying pharmalogical escapism, the harsh reality remains that there is no escape. Trapped. Stifled. This is me. And, somehow I have to accept what I hate, with all my heart.

When I wake up every single morning that demon is sitting right there on my shoulder, when I wake up in the middle of the night it is there too; and if I was to give this demon a name it would be Helplessness. I’m the turtle on its back.

It’s actually one thing that still feels incongruent or odd to me. I obviously need all this help, I’m appreciative for it all and I say thank you often, however it’s not help that I want (as in, I’d much rather that my body worked and I could do all this stuff myself). But again I’m forced into a corner, and again my choice is either surrender or accept. Blah, blah.

And reading between the lines a little of my last few paragraphs, this is mostly how my days go, I rely heavily on other people, and still to this day I’m working toward taking my power back, or more specifically, living in my power. Which, in following this circle around, I find this hard as I rely so heavily on people. I’m powerful by somebody else’s standards.

Being able to use my computer and write helps a lot, this does return some of my power and autonomy, only this seems to be it for me. Writing is my calling and my avenue, maybe even my ceiling; not quite what I’d ever dreamed of as a child. However, as I’ve learnt now over the years, writing is one of the most powerful mediums of all. It can create an instant personal legend and legacy. Thank God he kept this door open.

Anyhow, I’m getting a fair whack off topic here, so to bring this all back around, what I believe I most have to accept is how many doors are closed and how to adjust accordingly. Like say ten or so years ago I honestly used to believe I could do anything that an able-bodied person is capable of, only as many years have now passed, I’m very aware that with almost everything I miss out on a certain percentage of the human element and experience. Two broad spectrum examples that might be good to use here: one would be that sure cool I might get to attend an event but you’ll never see me at an after party; then another, it sure is lovely when people give me a hug (which they are often quite awkward because of all my tubes n’ shit) nevertheless, I can never hug back. It’s not physically possible. Yeah, maybe re-read that last little bit as well.

So, I find myself in this rather weird position – I hate my disability, I hate my level of restriction, yet, this is what I’ve been given and this is what I have to work with.

Geez, it rolls of the tongue so easily.

It makes it even seem so practical or doable… but damn I assure you, com-plexxxx!!

Still, on top of this, for me, the whole thing has dragged out for so bloody long now, it’s been this endless slog. Yesterday was hard and tomorrow will be hard too. And what I’ve started to notice, I now have all these mental problems in my fruit basket too. It’s the loneliness that gets ya.

But this is me.

I’m the turtle who is trying to roll over, and maybe I’ll get there or maybe I won’t.

Dunno.

I feel like I’m at a real crossroads.

And what this all comes down to, I’m trying to remember who I am – my soul, my spirit, my bogan-ness, call it whatever you like. I feel like my disability has slowly been beating it out of me, particularly over these last four years.

Only is this my story and is this how I want it to end?

NO.

So, what am I going to do about it?

Well, a few friends have been helping me with some stuff lately (thanks folks), and through our conversations, what I’m realising, I’ve always had this certain level of “fight” and defiance against my disability. I used to tell myself this can’t be it, this is not my life, and that one day I will win (whatever that means). However, today I can unequivocally say to you that I lost. I’m the one laying here in this bed completely paralysed, I have a machine that breathes for me, heck I can’t even talk or eat. Nope, I certainly wouldn’t call this winning in life. In fact, I’m a damn right tragedy.

Acceptance.

Acceptance.

This is what I’ve been trying to fight for all these years, and this is exactly what I’ve been avoiding accepting. Reality. Yeah, I’m this total fuck up and this is because my heart’s been smashed to smithereens.

There I said it.

So, the path forward… what I need to accept is being this total fuck up and having this absolutely insane disability that I hate, and honestly I have this deep seeded anger and disappointment about it. But to take this stuff out on anybody else, that’s just not who I am, so I have all this pent up anger in my heart (with seemingly no way to let it out, obviously apart from writing). And this is where most of my self-hatred, self-sabotage, and now drug abuse comes from. Everything comes back to the hurt in my heart.

Only where to from here? Well, it’s like I’ve gone from struggling with it all, to then suppressing it, to now finally experiencing it all. I’m feeling all the bumps and bruises. But I’d say this is a good thing. It’s progress.

Then, what does all this mean? Dunno. Your guess is as good as mine. What I have discovered though, surrendering isn’t enough if you do want to fully heal, mentally and emotionally. Surrendering is almost a passive exercise, which as I know now, like when I thought I was doing the right thing I was actually doing myself a lot of harm (which is partly why I find myself in this dumpster fire today). You see, no matter how much it hurts, eventually, one day, we all have to face our problems head on. Or, to put it more eloquently; we all have to face ourselves, we all have to accept ourselves fully – well, this is if we make the healthy choice, to heal. Because it is a choice.

And up until now, I’ve chosen my little hurt and heartbroken self, not consciously though. See, again it comes back to not fully accepting and owning my circumstance (oh boy, it is a lot to accept, there’s a lot to hate too), but what I’ve forgotten and have been overlooking, there’s a lot to love as well. And I am totally worth it.

So, it’s time to “wake up” and start respecting myself again – and I also understand that this is a process.

To choose love over fear.

Moving from critical to compassionate.

The good news however, I’ve already started (with sure a few slip ups already, so minimising these is something I’m now starting to focus on). I can’t keep taking these two steps forward, two steps back.

It’s time to draw the line.

I mean, sure, I might be this total fuck up and broken hearted bloke inside, but man, I still have so much to give. And if I can just own this, to fully accept the man that I’ve become and to stop dwelling in the past and at what could’ve been… time to shine.

In fact, for me, the two words that I reckon I should start using synonymously, these are acceptance and self-respect. For me, I’m starting to believe this is where my much needed mindset shift will begin – creating not a passive environment but rather a proactive healthy one. I need lots of green veges in my basket.

Steps:

1. Rest
2. Minimise drug intake
3. Work on my passion projects
4. Gain self-respect through providing value

It all begins with making the choice, then committing to it.

Nb: This is a message that I just received from the same bloke I was having the original acceptenve versus surrender discussion with, and as it appears, I still have work to do here. But it is nice to have the solution spellded out, which funnily enough, damn it’s close to what I’ve said here too:

Nah, you are not seeing it accurately yet 

You don’t love yourself then give up drugs 

You learn to respect yourself through giving up drugs 

Giving up drugs is about replacing them with work, your purpose. That will require much more of you then drugs will. 

Through that process you will come to respect yourself 

But you must start with none. Or very little. 

It’s hard, but in no way impossible.