I Need Help

I hate needing help.  By need, I mean I cannot get out of bed without help.  I would fall into a heap on the floor if I tried to now.  The process of the deterioration of my muscles has been humbling and humiliating.  I have felt guilty for being humiliated.  Why am I embarrassed for having a disease?  Before I started showing symptoms of muscular dystrophy I was a strong and independent young woman.  I worked to remain strong in body and spirit, not letting heart problems slow me down at all.  I was adventurous, spontaneous, and enjoyed helping others.  No one had to help me with anything.  I entered my mid-twenties feeling empowered and ready for an exciting, full life of love and travel.

Now, 12-ish years later, and I have to have someone lift me up to transfer from my bed to my powerchair.  I cannot hide the fact that I have lost abilities I once had.  The stares of strangers when I try to reach something on  a shelf still bother me.  For M's sake, however, I act oblivious to them.  She needs to know the strong, empowered mom I once was.  I often think about how different her life would be if she had been born a few years earlier.  A few more years of remembering her mommy walking, playing on the floor, swimming, swinging.   She would have really enjoyed me- I liked to play, a lot.  I would have thrown her in the car for a surprise getaway to a friend's house, because that is how I used to roll.

Now, I just roll, literally.  :) I mourn for what could have been.  Who doesn't?  I have learned that there are not too many people out there who live the life they expected to live.  Learning how to be grateful is a process, and I can control my attitude.