Month: December 2019

2019: A Year in Review…Sorta!

My little blog consists mostly of disability reviews, guest blogs and interviews with notable disabled people, such as NTA award-winning Emmerdale actor James Moore (check it out, folks!).

In order to raise awareness, I have discussed my own disability (Ullrich congenital muscular dystrophy) and how it affects me, though I’ve always made the conscious decision to avoid talking about anything personal.

People who know me well often describe me as incredibly private and somewhat closed-off. They’re not wrong. But I have my reasons. That said, I’ve been trying to open up a little more and share a closer insight into my everyday life in recent blog posts.

For me, 2019 really has been a year of major highs and lows.
The summer was genuinely the happiest time of my life. Everyone noticed.

Now, I’m the type to roll their eyes at the mention of people “glowing with happiness”, sceptical old bint that I am, but apparently it is a thing.

I was kinda hoping it would last longer than it did. But hey, that’s life.

Soon after my birthday came a swift punch in the gut (not literally, fear not!) and that marked the beginning of one of the unhappiest periods of my life. These things come to try us!

I’m not going to lie, this past month has been pretty crap.

Yeah, Christmas is a time to celebrate, have fun and be with those you love most. But it can also emphasise and remind you of what you’ve lost. And who you’ve lost.

I have some amazing people around me – family and friends. Thanks to those of you who patiently put up with me being a miserable fecker!

Some have offered wise words and advice, some have made me laugh when I really needed to, and others have simply been there to listen. You lot are what life is about (Ooh, deep!).

Let’s get this year out of the way and I promise, in 2020, I’ll pick myself up and get back to “the old Carol” ~ generally pratting about, laughing at inappropriate things and maybe even smiling occasionally 😱

A final word for anyone struggling for whatever reason…

I don’t want to get too serious. After all, it is Christmas – oh, joy!

Life ain’t all shits and giggles. I really wish it was. But it just isn’t.

Sometimes life gives you lemons (bastard lemons!) So what you gonna do? Throw ‘em back even harder, I say.

I may be pixie-sized but I’m pretty damn defiant. I’ve faced a fair few battles over the years. Truth is, the battle never really ends. But you gotta trudge through. What’s the alternative?

When I was 8 or 9, I fell off a horse. The horse decided she’d had enough of this trotting bullshit, and wanted to play silly buggars. She bolted downhill then stopped abruptly, throwing me forward.

I landed with my arse in a muddy puddle and lost my bloody boot. Yeah, I was a bit shook up. But I could either sit in that puddle and sulk (well, I couldn’t get up and walk off!) or get back in the saddle. So, I got back on psycho Sally!

Point is, life can be a bitch, but you gotta carry on and you gotta help yourself. Find what makes you happy and go for it!

I have a few things lined up for the new year, including some truly thrilling blog posts (I can sense the excitement already!).

Merry Christmas, folks. Take care! See you in the new year.

This is my brother’s tree, not mine. His is better! Don’t wanna ruin the aesthetic, y’know.

Body Image & Disability

I was born with a rare form of muscular dystrophy, affecting my body and physicality. I have a severe scoliosis (curvature of the spine) which, for various reasons, is not surgically corrected. This causes asymmetry and a shortened torso. Joint contractures mean I am unable to stretch out my arms or legs. Furthermore, the muscle wasting nature of my condition results in extremely thin limbs.

Illustration by Jess Oddi @TheDisabledLife

Now 31, I look very different from other women my age. My pixie-sized stature is emphasised by the scoliosis. In place of womanly curves, are unwanted and abnormally crooked humps and bumps. This visible contrast negatively impacts my sense of self and makes me feel odd, weird, and self-conscious.

I love fashion but fashion doesn’t love me

Over the years, I have desperately sought to hide my body with shapeless, baggy clothes. Anything resembling a potato sack is a winner. I live in leggings because jeans are a no-go and frankly, they are the next best thing to pyjamas!

Clothing manufacturers don’t cater for my body since it doesn’t meet standard criteria. Shopping is not an enjoyable experience. It is a frustrating and disappointing struggle to find anything at all to fit, let alone look flattering. Most of the clothes I buy have to be returned which makes me wonder why I bother at all – well, simply because I can’t roll about naked!

Accepting my unique body

Do I love, embrace and celebrate my unique body shape? Hell, no! BUT – I have slowly and gradually learnt to accept it. After all, there’s absolutely nothing I can do to change it. So why stress myself out over something I cannot control.

Exercise isn’t an option for me. I can’t go to the gym and buff-up. And why should I resort to cosmetic surgery? Why put myself through pain, trauma and financial strain simply to conform to societies high and unrealistic standards of beauty? Okay, it might make me feel more confident to look a little more like the average woman. Then again, it might not…

Societal standards of body beautiful

Our perception of body image and beauty is arguably increasingly influenced by social media, particularly Instagram. Heavily airbrushed, edited and filtered selfies are everywhere to be seen. With a smartphone, we can all look like a celeb from a magazine spread!

But this is misleading, unrealistic and unattainable. I can’t relate to the pouty, posers of Instagram. Honestly, can anyone?!

Diverse bodies are sadly under-represented in the media. This is starting to improve but there is still a long way to go before the presence of disabled bodies on our screens becomes mainstream.

Mentoring Kids

Very few people know that I used to mentor and teach art to primary school children.

I’ve always found it easy to interact with kids. They say it how they see it – no agenda, no bullshit. And I have a very low tolerance for bullshit!

I’d happily take on a room full of kids over a room full of adults, any day!

I mentored one particular lad for about 18 months. He had just turned 8 when I first met him. He came from a deprived area, one of four siblings, his dad was in prison and his mum…well, let’s just say she wasn’t as conscientious as she should or could have been.

Later down the line, his 12 year-old sister accused one of the younger male teachers of indecent assault. Blimey, I remember that day vividly!

The lad, (let’s call him Bob!), was a lovely kid – really polite, always happy to see me (nice to be appreciated, eh).

Bob really struggled with reading and writing. To begin with, he refused to even try. All he wanted to do was play games. Time for negotiation – reading first, then we play games. He would often look up at me to read out the longer words for him. No mate, give it a try first. Break it down and work it out.

Admittedly, the school books were pretty crap, so I bought some more interesting ones to motivate him. He liked dinosaurs and pirates so that’s what we mostly read about.

I had studied art at university and he soon noticed that I could draw. So from then on, every session – “draw me a dinosaur!”, “draw me a pirate!”

Flipping heck, kid! How about you draw me a dinosaur!

In all honesty, I didn’t mind. It was nice to see him enthusiastic about something.

Despite my very obvious disability, in all that time, Bob never once questioned it – not that I would have minded if he did. From the get-go, I was just Caz the mentor.

He questioned everything else, mind you!!

~ How old are you?
~ What do you do?
~ Are you married?
~ Do you have kids?
~ Why not?
~ Where do you live?
~ Who do you live with?
~ Can I see your ID? (Yes, I showed him my ID to which he responded, “THAT’S NOT YOU!”)
~ What’s your real hair colour?
~ Can you dye your hair so I can see it, please??

NO, KID!!

I miss Bob. Happy days.

Conversations about Anxiety

This morning, I had a conversation with a friend about anxiety. (It’s good to talk, folks!)

We all experience anxiety to some degree. I know I do. I worry about certain situations and often place far too much emphasis on what others think of me. But I’m gradually accepting that these things are out of my control. So why worry?

My friend, (let’s call her Brenda!), was absolutely fine when she got to mine, though her anxiety had flared up earlier causing her to overreact and behave irrationally. As she put it, she “catastrophized”. The fact she’s aware of this is, in itself, a positive sign.

Brenda has various mental health issues resulting from personal trauma. She takes antidepressants, antipsychotics and is undergoing counselling.

For a LONG time she buried her issues and tried to carry on as usual. This culminated in Brenda becoming very ill and unable to cope with everyday life. It was only at this point that she sought medical support and realised that what she was experiencing isn’t “normal”.

I asked Brenda what happened this morning to cause her to overreact. Her parents have bought a wooden toy kitchen for her son, which wasn’t in the plan. It’s a Christmas present Brenda specifically told her mum not to buy. Not a big deal, you might think. So I asked, “why did it bother you so much?”

Control. The situation was taken out of her control and this triggered Brenda’s anxiety.

She worried her son wouldn’t like it.

She worried he would like it too much.

She worried he might be teased/judged for receiving a stereotypically girly toy.

She worried about the cost.

She worried that he would prefer the toy kitchen to the gifts she has bought for him.

She was overthinking the whole situation. But she knows this. So once her anxiety subsided a little, she removed herself from the situation, went home, shut herself away and had a nap. Anxiety is mentally and physically exhausting!

It’s only through therapy and counselling that Brenda is learning to recognise her triggers, symptoms and manage her anxiety. She can better organise her thoughts, respond to her feelings and differentiate between what is real and unreal.

She summed up her anxiety in one simple phrase ~ fear of the unknown. I’d never thought of it this way. But it makes a lot of sense!

One of Those Days…

Nosey Bints, Parking Tickets and Frustrating Phone Calls

They say bad luck comes in threes…or is it multiples of three? 

I’m generally fairly tolerant with day-to-day annoyances and ignorant people.

As a wheelchair-user, I’m used to complete strangers who feel entitled to stare or approach me for interrogation. They tend to be so ridiculous I choose to simply laugh it off.

Don’t sweat the small stuff, right.

But there are also times when my patience is wearing thin. Some days, I’m just not in the mood!

Today is one of those days.

I attended a routine hospital appointment and parked my Motability WAV in a disabled bay, with my blue badge clearly displayed, as usual.

As I reversed out of the WAV, I heard a woman stood directly behind me shouting, “I’m just having a nosey inside!”

*Cue eye-roll* Oh, feck off, lady!

I then waited in a small room crammed full of virally infested patients for well over an hour, only to be told the nurse I was due to see went home sick hours before. Which begs the question – why not inform me of this on arrival?!

I waited a further half an hour to be seen by another nurse. At least it wasn’t a wasted journey, I guess.

Having returned to my car, I was ever-so-slightly pissed off to find a parking ticket!

As soon as I got home, I logged-on to check out the meaning of this fuckery. As I suspected – no reason for issue, no explanation and no photo evidence.

Needless to say, I wrote a strongly worded appeal. Under no circumstances will I be paying this unjustified “parking charge”. No, just no!

Shortly after, I received a phone call from the CHC (Continuing Healthcare) department who claimed to have made a personal care payment back in the summer. They didn’t.

I won’t go into details (it’s a long story!) But my battle with Continuing Healthcare has been a lengthy and stressful one, with absolutely no benefit.

Okay, putting things into perspective, this isn’t the end of the world! I’m now sat watching cartoons with my beaut of a nephew. So it aint all bad!

As I say, some days you’re just not in the mood.

Tomorrow will be kinder…we hope!

Anyone got any rum??