By Krystina | #Wheelstrong

I always say,

“You know I’m in a wheelchair, right?”

They usually reply….if they reply at all….

“Yeah, I understand.”

Followed by a variety of questions or half-hearted reassurances.

And that’s when I say,

“It’s more than just a wheelchair. It’s a way of life.”

But what they don’t understand is….
it’s not only a way of life.
It’s a whole new way of thinking.
A complete rewiring of self.

I watched the man I loved…..
the man who once loved me….
stop looking at me with devotion and start looking at me with disgust.

His eyes, which used to linger on me with admiration,
started seeing me only as a burden.
As something pitiful.

And I didn’t even blame him.

Because truthfully?
I started to feel the same way when I looked at myself.

Spinal cord injuries wreak havoc.
Not just on the body,
but on your identity, your sense of worth, your mirror.
You don’t just lose function….you lose familiarity.

Your body no longer looks the same.
It doesn’t respond the same.
You have to relearn every single thing:

Breathing.
Bathing.
Eating.
Moving.
All the little functions most people take for granted?
You start back at zero.

For me, about 90% of my muscles stopped working.
The remaining 10% had to learn how to carry the weight of everything….
body, mind, soul.

And while doing that?

I gained over 100 pounds from depression.
I lost all my hair.
Lost control over my bodily fluids.
Suffered endless infections.
Felt humiliated in ways no one should ever have to feel.

There were days I couldn’t even find the strength to open my eyes
in that dark, soul-stealing nursing home.

So the day he told me:

“The girl I loved died the night of the accident,”
and walked out on me…
I can’t say I was surprised.

Hell….
I was surprised he stayed as long as he did.

So when the next one comes along….
and when I’m finally ready to let someone in again….
I won’t be looking for a man who knows I’m in a wheelchair.

I’ll be looking for the one who takes the time to truly understand
what it means to love a woman in a wheelchair.

The man who has the patience
to walk beside me
as I continue learning how to love myself all over again.