by Michael Freeman
Not every challenge that I have faced as a person with a physical disability has been physical; some of my greatest challenges have been of the mind.
While in Ottawa for one of the recent human rights committee meetings, I was faced with one of my life-long fears. It was almost crippling for me, but no one else could even recognize that there was an issue… until I finally started sharing.
Why do I feel like I have to hide behind a cheery disposition? Why do I feel alone in my thoughts and unable to share the truth about how I am feeling?
My degenerative physical condition is leading me down a path that makes me feel, at times, helpless and hopeless, forcing me to accept that which I am powerless to change.
Even as I write, I am reluctant to share for fear of my monumental challenge being dismissed as trivial.
As the committee members and I stood in the lobby of our hotel after a long day of meetings, we discussed having supper just four short blocks from where we stood. I began to think about ways to excuse myself. I was not going to call a taxi for a distance I once walked with relative ease. I told everyone that I was too tired to attend – that I would just go to my room and order room-service. One committee member suggested that I could use a wheelchair and they volunteered to push it for me.
There it was: my fears were becoming a reality. I now needed help – mechanical help – to do something I once did with relative ease.
There before me was a wheelchair. I had a traumatically difficult decision to make: eat room service food, alone, yet again or swallow my pride and anything else that was keeping me from accepting the assistance offered.
That was the beginning of what I understood to be a very slippery slope. There would be no turning back.
In reality, I had been using assistive devices throughout my life and had never thought of them that way. I don’t know why it was harder for me to use the wheelchair, but it was. I had a real mental block that caused stress, panic and adverse emotion. I was surprised to find that some of that melted away as soon as I sat in the chair.
The mental stress of living with a physical disability has been a monkey on my back for many years. I went from a rather happy-go-lucky kid to an angry and confused teenager to an isolating and insulating adult. The mental stress almost took over at the time I wrote the poem “Self Imposed Prison”.
Self-Imposed Prison
By Michael Patrick Freeman
Here I sit
Alone at last
My thoughts are mine
But mine alone.
No one wants to know how the mind works
Or the things it thinks
When it belongs to a man
like me
Alone at last.
Here I sit
Waiting
Wanting
Searching for a reason
To leave this self imposed prison.
Times have changed for me; I am less isolated. I get involved in activities that interest and challenge me. I do less insulating because I have started to share my burden with those who will listen. I understand this world uniquely because of how I have worked through my disability, both physical and mental.
By sharing our life’s story with others, we all heal as individuals. Share your story today.
December 3 is the International Day for Persons with Disabilities; if you’d like to share your story with us, please leave a comment below.
Michael Freeman is the Union of National Employees’ national equity representative for persons with disabilities. This article was written as part of our union’s member journalism program. If you’d like to find out more, click here – to pitch a story or for any questions, please send an email to communications@une-sen.org.