Truth to tell, the move was quite demoralizing for me. I found myself feeling useless and in the way. No one made me feel this way ... the worst punishment comes from within. I had to sit in my wheelchair and watch others pick up my stuff and move it. They were all quick and efficient and so very very able bodied.
I didn't know what to do with myself. I didn't know where to hide. They were going in each and every room hauling out boxes and furnature and bits of this and lots of that. So I just sat and grinned and made a comment or two - keeping spirits light. While they fought to get our stuff to fit in the truck, I fought depression from taking over. I felt well and truly disabled.
And I didn't like it.
The self pity hangover lasted for more days than you would imagine. Even though on Monday I was back at work, back doing things of value, doing things independantly. The fact that I hadn't moved a single thing, carted a single box, grew in my mind. It was like everything I could do was hidden by the shadow of the things that I can't do. Like move boxes and lift furnature.
I was feeling a wee bet better by the weekend. Time does heal. I had managed to push most of that feeling of inadequacy (when I say inadequacy, I mean the dibilitating sense of not being equal to your own life) to the back of my mind. Things changed this morning. Big time.
I got up early because I wanted to get organized for the day. And besides, I get up early. We need to arrange with the hotel for our car to be brought round they need 45 minutes to be able to get it for you. You see I'm lecturing today in New York City.
New York City.
Cripple takes bite of Big Apple!
As we drove in yesterday and inched our way across the island towards the hotel, our car being constantly swarmed by tourists, I realized ... Who really, really, gives a shit about boxes. I'm lecturing in New York! Wheelchair and all.
Take that self esteem.