Brave
So today I did something I consider brave.
If you didn't know---in November it will be 3 years from the awful accident in which I lost a finger.
In many ways my life has gone back to normal. I can sign. I can communicate in sign language. I can interpret for volunteer settings. and I don't think about it absolutely every day like I used to. I've even started gaining back my identity--and not thinking of myself as somehow 'broken' or 'minor-lly disabled' from this crisis. I've been making jokes about it for years. And I've had a good attitude outwardly.
I suspect I joke about it more than I would if I had been born with it--because it's on my mind more. I think if I'd been born with it by around age 33 (wow--yes--33 years old now) I would be tired of the jokes--not really think of it often.
But today I crossed a new bridge. It kind of scares me. You see--most people don't even notice my finger missing. I like that. I like that they don't notice. I find the moment awkward when they do notice---I'm dancing with someone and they look down at my hand and suddenly I know that they know that it's missing. But they are too polite to say anything and I'm too awkward to know what i should say. And what if they didn't notice--what if I'm making it up in my head?
Or there are other moments. For many people it's not till I say something it gets noticed. And I like that. Because this is not my identity. This is far from my self-identity. Because this is new. It's not me--it's just a piece of me that's changed. And so I've been scared to death to paint my finger nails. Once--just once--I've gotten them french tipped. And that was for my friends wedding. And it was so subtle I didn't think anyone would notice.
But today I painted them---all out painted them. Purple. Daring. Loud. Strong colors. (Also, my favorite colors).
I'm scared to do this--nothing says "I'm missing a finger" like bright purple nail polish. Because it draws attention to the hands--and then there's two missing. My finger and my thumb.
The thumb has a tiny nail bed (that grows upwards--not outwards like it should)--and so I painted it so it looks like it has a nail...but not sure how that's going to stay looking. Since the nail polish always washes off the skin. (I know because I am lousy at painting nails--I always get paint on the skin. But it washes off later). So the thumb fits in right now--but will it stay? I don't know.
I don't want to draw attention to my hands. But I also don't want to live in fear of little things--like not painting my nails. So--I did it. I'm kinda scared of results--reaction (it's summer time--who will I see anyway?). But I also am proud of myself. I did something brave. Something that I was scared to do. Yay! Go Minabird!
If you didn't know---in November it will be 3 years from the awful accident in which I lost a finger.
In many ways my life has gone back to normal. I can sign. I can communicate in sign language. I can interpret for volunteer settings. and I don't think about it absolutely every day like I used to. I've even started gaining back my identity--and not thinking of myself as somehow 'broken' or 'minor-lly disabled' from this crisis. I've been making jokes about it for years. And I've had a good attitude outwardly.
I suspect I joke about it more than I would if I had been born with it--because it's on my mind more. I think if I'd been born with it by around age 33 (wow--yes--33 years old now) I would be tired of the jokes--not really think of it often.
But today I crossed a new bridge. It kind of scares me. You see--most people don't even notice my finger missing. I like that. I like that they don't notice. I find the moment awkward when they do notice---I'm dancing with someone and they look down at my hand and suddenly I know that they know that it's missing. But they are too polite to say anything and I'm too awkward to know what i should say. And what if they didn't notice--what if I'm making it up in my head?
Or there are other moments. For many people it's not till I say something it gets noticed. And I like that. Because this is not my identity. This is far from my self-identity. Because this is new. It's not me--it's just a piece of me that's changed. And so I've been scared to death to paint my finger nails. Once--just once--I've gotten them french tipped. And that was for my friends wedding. And it was so subtle I didn't think anyone would notice.
But today I painted them---all out painted them. Purple. Daring. Loud. Strong colors. (Also, my favorite colors).
I'm scared to do this--nothing says "I'm missing a finger" like bright purple nail polish. Because it draws attention to the hands--and then there's two missing. My finger and my thumb.
The thumb has a tiny nail bed (that grows upwards--not outwards like it should)--and so I painted it so it looks like it has a nail...but not sure how that's going to stay looking. Since the nail polish always washes off the skin. (I know because I am lousy at painting nails--I always get paint on the skin. But it washes off later). So the thumb fits in right now--but will it stay? I don't know.
I don't want to draw attention to my hands. But I also don't want to live in fear of little things--like not painting my nails. So--I did it. I'm kinda scared of results--reaction (it's summer time--who will I see anyway?). But I also am proud of myself. I did something brave. Something that I was scared to do. Yay! Go Minabird!