I have a confession to make; when I get close to the end of something I freeze. Whether it is the end of a book, consistent therapy sessions, or, admittedly, even my undergrad, I always seem to drag things out to avoid having to confront change. More simply, I confess that, while I talk a good game of self-acceptance, I hide in plain sight.
I could give you a soliloquy as to why this is. The truth is, just like everyone else, change scares me. I’ve been in school for eight years. It has become one of my many comfort zones. It’s familiar, safe. Just like overthinking things and trying to find a reason to fix myself.
Before I continue, I do not wish to give the impression that consistent counselling is not recommendable for those who need it. My argument is simply coming from self-inquiry. Why am I so afraid of living that I think I’m fooling myself and my psychologist? That I have reached the stage where it has become more of a Tylenol and cough syrup situation rather than a prescription that I need to refill to function. Why am I so afraid to be happy and confident enough to move from school to a job? I could argue false consciousness, a fancy way of saying I am sometimes still believing the crap society says about those who do not have mobility. But let’s be honest, that is ridiculous. These are just excuses for me not to move forward now, it’s time to stop.
I simply must make peace with who I am: fears and all. I must make peace with uncertainty, which is one of the only certainties we have, whether we are religious or secular.
Sitting here doesn’t change the fact that things will change eventually.
I wish I could tell you that acknowledging this has dispelled my fears, unfortunately I’m still shaking my boots as I write this. Fortunately, bravery isn’t about charging at the dragon like I thought it was, bravery is saying, “Yes, I’m scared, but I am able to—and must—move forward on a task. For me, this is to let go of the crippling fear that comes from the lie that my disability defines who I am and what is safe and, most importantly, what is right and wrong with me.
It is time for me to realize that I have not wanted to be free—not completely—because that would mean embracing the unknown. But in that space of the unknown as a Christian I embrace my God and pray, “Beloved of my heart, forgive my adultery with fear. Please set me free. Please help me embrace you now, amen.”
