'Miss black-t-shirt and sweat pants'
I sometimes wonder what it would be like to have been disabled since birth. I also wonder why I was so stupid as to roller-skate with hands on the back of a car bumper; but I was eight and thought life was a film.
The driver didn't know I was grabbing on his bumper, poor soul, as I was crouched down the back. As the car got toooo fast I let go and I can remember nothing else, except that I was totally winded, but thought I was ok. Then scatted home thinking, 'wow that was brilliant', took my skates off at home and promptly passed out into my hot/sour soup that mom always added some tomato soup and cream to.
Six months later I had my first migraine and I puked and poo'd myself, but the pain was so much I didn't notice until later when dad came up to see how I was and I burst into tears when I realized what had happened.
First touch of a teenager's hand and guess what, yeah, trickle down my leg and the exit horrified the boy who told the whole school. So I kicked him on each cheekbone and broke his nose with a flat palm strike. He squealed like a piglet and I kicked both his knee caps and gave a twist punch to his balls, an edge of hand on the back of his neck… and told him that if he didn't shut the fck up I'd gouge his right eye out and piss in the socket.
'Aye, I'm really sorry, I am. I did naet nae ye were a fckin ninja mutant headcase.'
I laughed and told him if I was a headcase I'd have struck a twist punch to his groin to fold him over then applied my knee to his nose and chops to the back of his neck with my left before squelching his eyes. Or following the axe hand edge of hand I'd apply karate-do down strikes to the back of his neck and just in case I had shattered any vertebrae I'd give him a reverse claw hand that'd rip his nose off.
'Aye you look well bonnie when you're angry,' he said, and invited me on a date as soon as he got a shirt without blood on it on, So I grabbed his nose and re-set it quickly and then gave him a cap full of scotch for shock and checked him for concussion, but the strikes I actually made on him were completely pulled as I didn't put full hip twist into the high kicks. His nose was just 'sore' for a day or so rather than having the fragile bones driven into his skull.
RP then went around telling everyone how 'his lassie had just given him a right cleatin' and that night I got tiddly with him on a can he'd stolen from his dad and I wore a long green skirt with no panties and rubbed myself against the damp grass as he snogged me.
My pee flowed into mother earth and became soul nitrates instead of shame. His dad got posted south, but we saw each other each summer and I still get occasional emails from him.
The worst thing I could imagine was having to leave nursing, but in effect I haven't. Actually I'm bloody proof that nurses are daft cows as I'm working me arse off for free.
My partner tells me I'm beautiful, which I'm not as I've smashed my teeth twice sparring, but I guess that's the risk with nunchuka's or penkak silat. Completely my fault each time as in both cases I tried a wrist lock which went wrong - first time was when I was 19 and second time was last autumn.
This isn't self hatred or anything when I say I'm not beautiful as I've got friends who do fit stereotypes of beauty and femininity whilst I'm Miss black-t-shirt and sweat pants, run comb thru hair, put on scrunchy and my leather jacket and I'm good to go.
When I go out with mates for a girlz night out the level of complaints I hear about either their partners or themselves makes me wonder if they actually gain strength from each other or not - but they are moaning away whilst I just bliss out into reverie about the next time I'm travelling to see my man.
There really are people who are unhappy with their bodies, but I do think it's important that women especially feel comfortable with their bodies as there are entire industries devoted to telling us that our hair could look better or that we've too much body fat or that we smell or that we'd be somehow lesser without product x. In the west at least beauty has become a dangerous myth where airbrushed images are seen as the ideal and young women are invited to compare themselves to impossible images and thus feel crap about themselves.
My life with a disabled man
Yes celibacy [shiver], but I'd be looking at all these mags and it'd say '20 billion ways to a better sex life' and feel myself going a vivid green with jealousy.
My attempts at consciously finding a partner via the internet were total disasters as well, as the men who claimed to look past the biological side of things - i.e. peeing like Niagara falls when excited - turned out to be a bit dubious to say the least as I was either seen as:
QUOTE - 'a little china doll too delicate for the world', or the men where rather toooooo accepting of my bio prob as in wanting to film me with their camera phones.
YUCK - 'Get out nowwwwwww you scumbag.' What sort of a man would be more interested in my pee than me?
Remember being told once that there are men who are 'into' disabled women because of their disabilities and they call themselves 'devotees. So it totally subliminated all my sensual energy into work and training and even self pleasuring was a turn off as it's hard to keep a fantasy in your mind's eye if you're half worrying about changing the sheets.
For someone my age [just reaching 26] the weekend ritual of 'going out and pulling a bloke' is a central part of scots west coast culture. But I was so alienated from this I almost stopped going out dancing, well almost.
I do wonder a bit if it's not tougher for disabled men as the masculine stereotype is geared towards strength whilst the feminine stereotype is that of helplessness - also admission time here, I'd have never considered having a disabled partner before I met my current beau because it would've been... I'm not sure why really but I definitely had that perception as if being seen with a disabled man would somehow reflect on me.
Ok I did go to one meeting for epileptics but the people there were so boring as they seemed to want to do nothing in case it caused a seizure and I'm not claiming that I'd risk seizures by going to a strobe filled environment, but there were people who were afraid to leave their houses in case they seized in public.
I mean no one wants to flash-out at all but the idea of living governed by fear scared me more than death itself. Does that make sense? It makes sense to my beau but he's someone that can crash out of bed, land with crunch on something and when asked if he's alright grin and say, 'yeah it's a good day to die, hey pass me a smoke will you beau'.
I don't think I'm anywhere near as beautiful as his ex. I've met her in dreams and she was really nice. It's not her I'm competing with; instead it's the silly wee slags that send him emails with pics of them skyclad – I know this happens as he once asked me to check his email.
Ah, they're actually not slags but they've read something he's posted on pagan networks and ok this was nosy of me but I looked in his sent folder as I could see he'd replied and he'd written each of them a nice note blessing and a very nice 'lovely though you are I have a magical partner but I'm sure you'll find yours soon lighting candle for you'.
I did feel ULP when I read his words on a previous demanding ex, as at times I know I can be needy in needing to hear his voice or instant messaging him.
Gggrrrrrr I hate it when i m being soooo needy as I know there's so many other people that I could call and I know that I've woken him but when i say 'look I'm sorry', he says 'hey no probs I was just...' and then makes an excuse about how it actually was a good thing that I called him at some ridiculous hour in a state of panic because sometimes I get post seizure panic thinking, 'what if I suddenly stop breathing'- which does happen – 'and my body's auto response system doesn't work?'
But he's always, 'uuuhhhh, just let me put the kettle on; talk to me through the speaker and I'll be right with you'.
And I hear all these crashes or 'awwww, soddddd', as he knocks into things and then I ask, 'are you alright?'
'Yeah, the bookcase suddenly leapt at me but I dodged it but walked smack into the breakfast bar and the breakfast bar didn't like that so shoved me backwards right into the bookcase which tripped me up which is bloody weird how it hasn't got legs but I'm alright. How are you?'
Or he tells me to 'hold my hand and feel the energy', and I imagine that and I feel better because I can feel his hand holding mine. I know that it could be autosuggestion - wishful thinking - but it feels so real.
'Now I'm putting my hand on your crown' [he means the crown chakra] 'and making it grow or glow.'
And I do feel like I'm wearing a golden crown.
You could try it and just sit for a minute or two imagining you're wearing a golden crown of energy.