I have been used to being fiercely independent and completely stubborn for the entirety of the time I have been on this earth. If you know me, you know that I am very headstrong. Once I’ve made a decision, my mind is unwavering and my focus is clear. One thing you may not know about me is that I have chronic illnesses.
I have overcome many mountains that not even some of the closest people to me know about. I have fought many silent battles that I thought I would not see the light of day from. And I have done this in silence. Hidden behind cheery Instagram posts, fun TikToks, and fake smiles. I have visited hell and back. All with a smile on my face and a “I’m fine, thank you!” slipping from my mouth. I am steadfast in my convictions.
The Grinding Halt Of Chronic Illnesses And Disabilities
However, being hit with debilitating chronic illnesses that led to disabilities has caused me to grind to a halt at times. Sometimes quite dramatically as my poor family and friends will vouch for after seeing me hit the floor more times than I can count. Invisible illness certainly has its way of showing itself. One such grinding halt hit me like a brick wall when once again, I found that I couldn’t get out of bed one recent weekend morning.
My whole body was racked in so much pain that even the gentlest hug from my mum or the weight of my tiny beloved chihuahua, Alfie, on my stomach was too much to bear and sent hot tears streaming down my face. I struggled to stand, grabbing onto the wardrobe, the walls, the doors….anything to support me. Teeth gritted, I plaited my way down the hallway to the bathroom (and not the kind of plaiting I used to do towards my mum’s car at 2am on a Sunday morning as she sat there shaking her head in dismay). Bouncing from wall to wall as I struggled to hold my weight and make my legs stop bending, I held in screams of frustration at the failure of my own body.
With the help of my parents, I soon found myself back in bed propped up against soft pillows that felt like more like knives against my back. The blinds remained firmly closed due to the burning pain in my eyes at the gentle autumn sunlight. And my body was shaking from the exertion, as the waterfall of tears continued to cascade down my cheeks. I couldn’t lift the coffee my dad had made me to my mouth. My body felt too weak. And my heart felt shattered.
Time For A Walking Stick
As my mum sat beside me, tears streaming from her own eyes, she said: “Do you think it’s time you bought that walking stick?”
Immediately, I felt the bile rise in my stomach and a fresh wave of something else wash over me: humiliation. That’s what disabled people need, right? People that can’t manage anymore and need an aid to walk. People that are unwell and need support. People like…me. I felt like my world had come crashing down around me all over again as I sat and sobbed and silently nodded, my eyes closed not wanting to look at my mum’s heartbroken face.
Beginning The Search
Reluctantly over the next few days, I began my journey to finding the perfect walking stick for my chronic illnesses. I went into my search feeling devastated and disturbed that I was even having to look for one. My mind raced and my stomach flipped with the anxiety of the thought of having to walk out in front of my friends and family with a stick for the first time. The impending questions and the looks of pity. I felt shame. But why? When I saw anybody else walking with a stick, I would think nothing of it – I wouldn’t feel shame for them, or embarrassment; so why did I feel it when I became the subject? It felt like I was looking at what my future could hold – losing independence. But at the same time, I felt thankful for the fact that my stick would only be used when I needed it, and that some days, I would be able to be without it. I would be just me.
I soon came across Neo Walk – a company that made me feel like a walking stick didn’t have to be something scary and something damning, but an extension of me and my style. Looking through their beautiful selection of customisable walking sticks, I began to feel a weight slowly lifting from my chest. It lifted even more so when I spoke to their lovely team via email and arranged to have a custom-made stick created that was more ‘me’.
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Finding The Magic
On the day my stick arrived I stood in my kitchen looking at the box, my heart pounding as the sickness rose in me once again at the thought of what was inside. Its arrival felt like admitting defeat; something I am not accustomed to. Opening the box, I got a glimpse of my stick for the very first time, and as I did so, the tears began to stream down my face.
The most beautifully designed stick sat inside the box. A clear candy cane design wrapped in candy floss sparkles, complete with a matching strap. And the piece de resistance? Its ability to light up. I immediately sent my mum and dad a photograph and told them: “I feel like Glinda The Good!”
The Mindset Shift
Fast forward a few weeks and here I sit at my desk, my beautifully designed walking stick beside me as I type away. You may wonder why I decided to share this, and I will explain. I began this journey feeling like my my independence was slipping and I was feeling the soul-destroying effects of a relapse of my symptoms. I felt like the chronic illnesses and disabilities that I had tried so hard to not let define me had gotten one over on me, and I felt humiliated and ashamed.
But during this new journey I realised something very important that I hope will help others in the same position, my walking stick is not a disability aid, it’s an independence aid. I am not chronically defeated; I am chronically strong. And one thing is for certain – I’ll persevere, no matter what.
Want to find out a little more about me? You may enjoy reading GOODBYE RDMUA: THE MAGIC OF NEW BEGINNINGS.
