courage/resilience
21 October, 2019
Emotional resilience. I always thought I had a massive amount of it, but it actually has always been courage. I have been courageous all my life, which isn’t the same as being resilient. These two traits look and feel similar I guess. Both entail keeping on keeping on, to keep engaging with difficult situations and taking risks that challenge you. My capacity to push through and keep doing things that are uncomfortable, and accept whatever is in front of me, has been repeatedly mislabeled “resilience”.
One significant memory I have is of running a race around a large oval. I was in year 6, everyone else finished as I was just about half way, but I was determined to complete the lap even if it took me 10 minutes more. Everyone clapped as I finally crossed the finish line, everyone praised me afterwards, I smiled and was polite, but I didn’t see how what I did was anything spectacular - I just started a race and finished it. While I was grinning at people, I quietly hated the fact I was being congratulated for essentially coming last, like I was somehow different, and held to different standards.
It was in Canberra, a cross-school sporting affair with plenty of different kids that were “very cool” and “very popular”, all who ignored me like I was completely invisible. So to be then interacted with and treated like the “special” kid was totally disheartening and further alienating. However, I still went on and participated in all the other events, doing the best I could, all the while feeling like I shouldn’t even be there, and I didn’t even want to be. I remember the way my chest was sore and so heavy all the time, and being so lonely, that all I wanted to do was to be by myself away from everyone. One lunchtime I went and sat in another oval on this random soccer goal thing, and it was only then that I felt like I could breathe for a moment . Then the break was over, and I went back to do shot put or long jump or something... I don’t think this was, or is resilience, I spent years thinking that it was though, thinking that I was able to just adapt to situations, be somewhat content and effectively function.
I have come to realise my emotional state is more kaleidoscopic than rational or resilient. It moves into, and out of patterns, magnifies some things while ignoring others. It can go from greys and blacks to rainbows in a moment. It makes me nauseous some days. While this is just the nature of emotion and of minds, some people can steady themselves quicker, so their chance of becoming dizzy is not so great. I think that’s what resilience is, to feel tricky things and know how to navigate them effectively so that you have the ability to form a way through.
So many of my days, weeks, months, years, have been monochrome, my survival has always relied on my courage to feel my way in the dark, to continue to exist in places that petrify me. I think this is one of the most important parts of establishing a sense of self-reliance, knowing my own landscape and gaining trust in my own immense capacities.
Most days, I search for the cracks that Leonard Cohen sings of, the cracks where more light can get in, so I can more easily see and explore where I am, and where I actually want to go. It’s all very precious and precarious though, my mind-heart-body state. I remember once, in my teens, I had tonsillitis, and I was so dizzy and weak, that my mum had to bathe and dress me. I didn’t realise how impacting it was until I found my self breaking down into tears in a doctors office and thinking that I was losing my self, my ownership of my body.
Recently, I have had two more of these experiences where I have gone on existential spirals triggered by physical injuries. My foot was broken by a stubborn and defiant gate, I couldn’t move or do anything, except communicate, without assistance for over a week. I would wake up crying feeling like my very existence was just dead weight, like I had lost control, which was total bullshit. I am so fundamentally privileged to live in such a loving environment, in such a supportive community and to have absolute autonomy over everything that I do, even when I was being carried around the house, I still had complete autonomy.
That is the thing though, living in a society that constructs a paradigm where being disabled inherently correlates to diminished control, and diminished value, means my sense of who I am is constantly being questioned. And so I am vigilant in retaining, and finding solace, and establishing my identity, in my body and physical ability. It’s a necessity to my survival really.
So when I scratched my eyeball on my car boot divider thingy on Saturday, and couldn’t open either of my eyes for very long, again, it made me panic, because I can’t type or walk around without bumping into things. And because I couldn’t see where my fork was going, my housemate fed me dinner yesterday.
Courage creates resilience, doesn’t it? Accepting help from others can make my own edges more apparent, or so I tell myself.