I'm not disabled; I have a setback

[vicarz]

Today I worked out for the first time in the gym. I kept my brace on - I was sorely tempted to not wear the fucking thing, but I was worried that if I didn't I'd forget or just move naturally and hurt myself. It was a valid fear.

I didn't hurt myself, but the energy, the desire to do more, was a bit overwhelming. Funny thing to discover how much you use half your body - your leg, your hip.

I did my bench, and it was weak but not shameful. I was annoyed I wasn't able to do the same lift I did 2 weeks ago (205x5), but I reminded myself that I can't spread my legs or plant my feet - I'm 100% flat back on the bench. So I only did 205x2 or 3, then worked out with sets of 3 and 4 at a meager 185. Flat bench, it's just flat. I'd cue up and start to slide up to the bar, which normally is followed by pushing back into a tight spread legs to form an arch with the back...I think if I wasn't wearing the brace I might have done it. I had to keep reminding myself not to sit with my legs spread apart, pushing on the hip.

Like Trader Joes, people looked and looked away. Unlike TJs, people are doing their own thing and didn't really care all that much.

Except me. I was...both proud and ashamed. I felt like a freak there with my robotic accouterment. I didn't want to look weird - purple hair, black nails, a funny shirt? Sure. A brace on my body and leg making it look like I got gattaca surgery? Not my thing. At the same time, there I was fuckyouing through it. Maybe if I saw more disabled (and for that I thank the US military for giving me so many robotic people to work out with) I'd feel less like this. So, I was also not hiding myself - I was full of fuckyou and maybe I can be in the cadre of images people think of when they contemplate whether to work out with their injuries or disabilities.

I thought about my mom while lifting - and was swapping a piece of equipment with a white haired muscular man. Given the possibility of atrophying like my mother or being that white haired fucker rocking arms and shoulders in a tank top until death do they part? I think it's a no-brainer, but I'm fortunate in the sense I am exposed to the results of both courses of action.

Comments

[wantedonvoyage.livejournal.com]

Taken two at a time: stairs or pills. We have the choice.

Good on you, man.

[likethewatch.livejournal.com]

I'm following your recovery with interest. When I went through this back thing, I was starting to identify myself as "disabled" in this way. One of my friends has been disabled for as long as we've been friends, and we were starting to come into phase. Then I had surgery and began to recover. My friend still needs his mobility devices, sometimes he's in the hospital, or just too sick to join us in our weekly revels. I feel a little guilty about having ever put myself in the same box, and then guilty for feeling ashamed of the association, and then more guilty because my friend still suffers (sometimes severely, as of late) with his chronic condition and I am moving on to other things being the center of my life.

[vicar.livejournal.com]

Well I think, and I'm sure you know but guilt is a pernicious bitch, you should show all respect and consideration but not torture yourself with the pain of others. Offer and give help, offer and give respect, and do what you can with you life.