A humble heart and a disabled body.

Next semester I will have an "accessible" parking pass. It's called accessible because the lady in the disabilities office said she doesn't like to use the "h-word". I think she was afraid she would offend me.

For six months now, my parents have been telling me that I should talk to the disabilities office at EKU and see what assistance I can get with my medical conditions. Of course I have been protesting this terrible thought for awhile now. After all, I am NOT disabled. I don't need special help. I am fully capable of keeping up with everyone else. Except that.... I am, I do, and I'm not.

And so I have finally humbled myself enough to begin the process with the disabilities office. I sat and spoke with a very nice woman about my conditions for almost two hours. I poured out my medical records, my heart, and quite a few tears. It actually felt good to tell someone. It felt good to have someone who, even though they are healthy, seemed to understand me. It was good to have someone care. It was good to have someone tell me they can help.

If I hadn't been so stubborn, I could have had help a lot sooner. I could have gone this whole semester without the pain of walking a half mile to each class. I could have informed my professors a bit more about my conditions so that they wouldn't have told me they didn't care. I could have had a cool aqua blue parking pass instead of my ugly brown one. I could have...

Why is it so difficult to humble myself enough to admit that I need help? I have just recently started asking people to pick me up so I don't have to walk, carry my heavy bags so that I won't have to strain, and bring me a heating pad so I can lay down and try to subside even just a little of the pain I am feeling. I thought that asking for help made me weak, but I have recently discovered that asking for help makes me strong. It's easier to sit back and pretend to be normal. It takes a lot more courage and a lot less pride to simply say, "can you please help me?"

I'm not afraid anymore. I'll proudly use my new blue parking pass no matter what unjust stares and glares I may get. Maybe one day I will lose enough pride to use a rolling back pack. I have quite a few people pushing for that one. I am taking baby steps. It's hard to be such an independent person and yet have to depend on others for so many things. But I have to remember, it's not that I can't do it, it's that I really just shouldn't. And that's okay.

I can always look at it from my sister's perspective. She says, "You get to be dainty for the rest of your life!" Dainty, I am not, but maybe I can learn. Princess? Now I will take that for sure.