The Other Side of the Coin

I've always been confused by people who seem determined to dig their own holes, in spite of having clear examples of hope in front of them. Is it that they just want to wallow in their own pain? Is it more comfortable to be there? Does the working toward creating a bright future seem too hard...or is their picture of a bright future unrealistic?

I consider that I'm living a bright life, despite the shadowy bits. The sunshine always casts shadows...and that's ok. Shadows are part of the landscape. I have people who love me. I have a job that pays the bills. I am independent. I am strong, fit and healthy. Wouldn't you think that would be enough to convince someone that life with a genetic condition is still good, purposeful and fulfilling?

You would think so.

But there are those who, in spite of the brightness and soothing warmth of the sun will only look for and focus on the shadows. It's as though the presence of the shadows consume the very brightness that is still shining.

I met a woman and her 8 week old baby daughter in a serendipitous happening at a local supermarket. I was oblivious to her presence until she stopped me and blurted out, "My daughter's like you!" I looked in the carriage and there she was; this dear little baby girl who most definitely did have achondroplasia like me.

We discovered that we lived very close to each other and thus began a friendship of sorts. This woman leaned on me for support, reassurance and advice. Her family watched our family and we were their examples of a family with short statured members all living fulfilling, purposeful, happy lives - despite surgeries, despite attracting public attention simply by walking out our front door.

But it was the staring and comments that this woman focused on. It angered her, upset her...and it was as though she expected that the rest of humanity would not look or stare. In a perfect world this would be lovely...but we don't live in a perfect world.

Instead of watching how we coped with a curious world and gleaning information about how to help her daughter cope, this woman got angrier and angrier...reacting to any form of staring or comments that we or her daughter received. She did not know how to differentiate the natural curiosity of an innocent three year old child and the obvious, cruel taunts of a group of teens that should know better. Staring was staring and the starers, whether they be a three year old child or a sixty year old man bore the wrath of a mother who, I believe deep down, was having a really hard time coming to terms with the fact that her baby was born "not quite right".

And, despite all our encouragement and support, the family never really got over it. The little girls difference was at the forefront of their minds all the time. The girl grew up very, very angry to the point of responding with animalistic snarls towards any form of attention she got. The mother never taught her how to be independent so she never learned skills like cooking for herself, shopping, travelling alone. Her mother never even let her daughter have her own ATM card for fear that she would be mugged and robbed, therefore teaching her daughter that the world was out to get her, that she was incapable of defending herself. She never learned to shop for herself, never learned how to catch a bus or a train on her own. 

Now in her mid-20's the girl is a recluse; never leaving the house because she can't deal with the world. She has no job, no life skills, no confidence.

And I started wondering if there was more I could have done...but I know there's nothing more. Sometimes your life can be a good example for another and yet they choose to see what they want to see. It's still not enough. They want anonymity for their child...that sweet, blessed invisibility that the average Joe-Bloe is born with just by being average...or normal...or unaffected by any genetic anomaly. The human race is a curious race and we all, even those of us who are born "different", are curious about anything or anyone who is different to the norm. 

Yesterday I bumped into the mother who was still stuck in her angst and resentment. She acknowledged that by doing everything for her daughter she had created a rod for her own back and raised a child who will never be independent because she was never taught how. She remained negative the entire time I spoke with her and, after telling her of my running plan, became the first person who doubted it's success.

I always knew that I'd been raised to be independent, that by being born first and expected to be the "big sister" I had responsibility thrust upon me at an early age; that by being put into ballet classes, Brownies, Guides, Little Athletics and Youth Groups I was encouraged to be out and about in the community and learned to cope with people's natural curiosity and sometimes rudeness...but I also learned social skills just as any other child my age would; that by being just one of seven children I learned to fend for myself because there was no time to mollycoddle and over protect. But to see the other side of the coin yesterday was a real eye opener and I saw what could've happened if things had've been different for me.