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One of the big events over the summer was '‘avin a parteee…’ at our home and of course it was fab, darlings! However, we then had to look at the party pictures and, eeek, there were 3 of ME...aagh!
For the whole of my wheelchair life, I have forbidden photos of me because, to live with the consequences of my ill health, I have to preserve, in my mind, a visual image of me as I used to be even if only I see it. It maintains my, fragile, psychological stability. This may seem ridiculous to you but it works for me so just BACK AWAY from the keyboard if you feel the urge to tell me that I am ‘in denial’. I have found my way of coping.
Given this, I am obviously unlikely to be pleased at seeing photographic evidence of wheelchair me that works against this psychological construct. And yet, here it was in glorious digital detail...!
I went into shock at how awful I looked, then into deep, deep, depression – which, oddly, was not helped by friends saying that the pictures were very unflattering as EVERYONE ELSE looked exactly like they really do...I may be delusional about my personal appearance but I am not stupid!
Yes, I know all of this is very superficial and I know what a deep and fantastic person I am, yada, yada...but I want outer and inner beauty just like I used to have…well, actually I am not sure I ever did have them both together as I may have been a bit of a bitch when I looked good ‘cos you just are, aren’t you? Well, everyone else thinks you are anyway...is Angelina Jolie a nice person?
The fact is that all of my friends are still recognisably themselves physically...only I am not. I miss my face and body. It’s not the end of the world but it hurts, especially at events to dress up for...like a party. Do I really have to collude in the pretence that it doesn’t matter? Wouldn’t anyone miss/mourn the loss of their health and looks?
Click below to...
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