"I hate the way I walk"

I will never say that sentence again.

I am whole. I have been healed from a monster of emotional trauma. My shoulders are not constantly weighed down because I do not carry that burden anymore. I do not cry when I think about my disability. Sometimes I cry thinking of the disability because I am forever astounded by how God so beautifully intervened. I am not repulsed by my body anymore; I no longer hurt inside about such circumstances, that is in the past and will stay there.  I am one with my physical loss and it is one with me, and because of it I can carry such joy into this hurting world.

But even though my heart and spirit have been restored, my body has not. 9 years later, I still find myself strapping on a leg brace every morning.

Recently, I saw my reflection and was reminded what I look like when I'm trying to get about. I no longer despise this image with repulsed hatred by a mind that is deceived. But when you live so loudly and vibrantly that you forget your body is even damaged, it is easy to feel disappointment when you see your physical being and are suddenly reminded of what is still there.


Last year, I was walking around in the downtown of a city wearing a long, flowy skirt and elegant jewelry. I walked beside a large building made of glass and turned to note my reflection, expecting to see an image that was moderately pleasing. But all I could notice was the graceless way I move. My typical awkward walk--where my right knee is brought up way higher than my left, swinging my hip out, slamming my foot to the ground. The bones of my lower back curve out rather than going straight down like most people's do, called a "sway back," and it is greatly accentuated by my clumsy walking. Altogether, my body can appear as slightly disproportional and particularly awkward when I'm trying to get about.


I'm sure if you're reading this that you're ready to tell me, "Oh, it's not noticeable! You walk just like everyone else! I've never noticed it!" But it is what it is--my body is disabled and the rest of it involuntarily compensates for the movement (or lack of) that is incorrect. It would be silly for me to pretend otherwise.

I cannot cover up the way I walk by putting on foundation. I cannot cover it up if I just wear the right style of jeans. I cannot cover it up by working out more. The way I walk cannot be hidden if I wear lipstick. It is not hidden when I feel pretty. It does not go away if I forget about it. It is always there and will continue to be for the rest of my time on this earth.

But let me tell you about the choice I've made. These are the cards I have been dealt and this is the thorn in my flesh. I am only in my early twenties and I know that this will be with me during the rest of my journey. So what an unhealthy start it would be for me, at such a young age, to begin to allow myself to form a habit of negatively professing grave dissatisfaction toward an already heavy situation. Though, I am no longer tragically damaged on the inside, it is still easy to mutter out such a satisfying sentence anytime I experience any sort of frustration when I'm moving about-- "I hate the way I walk" or "I hate wearing this leg brace."

Just like it is normal for a human to experience anger,  it is absolutely healthy and normal for me to experience those thoughts and occasional feelings. I would not be human if I never felt that way at times. And though feelings can sometimes be unavoidable, the words in which we choose to speak are not. If I want to live a life as Light-filled and free of earthly pollution as possible, why should I consistently make the decision to utter out negativity, especially toward myself and a situation I have not the power to change? So many people complain about having too much drama in their life, yet they choose to let it in? I listen to person after person fuss about others talking about them behind their back, but then I watch them verbally slander those very people. Our words have more power over our lives, others' lives, and our very own moods than we think.

It is not wrong for me to sometimes feel those things toward my handicap, it's just practically inevitable. But I have chosen and made a sacred promise to myself to never verbally utter "I hate the way I walk" and "I hate having to wear a leg brace." The journey is hard enough and I will not make mine even harder by denouncing something I have already been restored from. So this is my challenge to you: what rule or promise will you set for yourself? Make one.

Perhaps one of your struggles is in anger, saying unkind things you end up regretting later. Remind yourself that anger is a normal, healthy human emotion and that it's okay to feel that way, sometimes those things are just inevitable. But maybe you can make a promise to yourself to just not speak when you get angry, if your fear is in saying something hurtful to someone.

Change my sentences, if you want, into something that is relevant to your life. Instead of "I hate the way I walk," cease saying "I hate you" to your spouse or family member. Instead of "I hate wearing a leg brace," quit the easy addiction of verbally professing "I hate my life," "I am ugly," "I am a failure."

I encourage you to do this, whether or not you have been restored from the wound or trauma. And if you never have, know that you just took the first step toward healing.

     












"The only thing more tragic than the tragedy that happens to us is the way we handle it." - John Eldridge, Wild At Heart