Pity Pots

Come on, admit it, there are days when all of us take a seat on the pity pot. We feel sorry for ourselves. When Lance Armstrong broke bones in a race, after beating cancer, I bet he sat there for at least an hour.

When you pull your pants up and get off the pot, you begin to cope. Everyone copes. Some people are better at it than others.

We are born with a fairly good set of coping skills or our caretakers would abandon us. We go on to fine tune these skills.

Some people don’t cope well at all. Some are superstars. It is a sort of continuum. Just because a person is born with or acquires a disability doesn’t mean that person is going to adapt.

But, I think there is a certain pressure and expectation from the Able world for People with Disabilities to be successful. And if that doesn’t happen, there is always the Special Olympics, a form of segregation that feels good to family and participants. A communal coping I suppose.

There are gimps, gorks, super-gimps, super crips and a variety of other catagories of disabilities.

My biggest goal has been terribly average. Go to college. Have a baby or two. Get married. Have a house and a yard and a cat.

I made incredibly average grades. Had average jobs. Write an average blog or two. My kids are not spectacular. (But, they are my best effort.) Even my cat is run of the mill. This is okay for me.

I feel sorry for myself. Sometimes I sit on the pitty pot and lament about this pain and that loose joint. Then, I find a way to work around it and go on with my day.

You may wonder about the point I am trying to make.

In a round about way, I am saying, just because a person has been born with serious physical or mental barriers does not endow that person with super coping skills.

The fellow who looses limbs in an accident should not be expected to become an inspiration if he went into his accident with addictions or self image problems.

I do not believe that God is not going to give us anything we can’t handle. It just isn’t so. Look in prisons, state mental hospitals, detox centers, bars, extreme sports and any self destructive activities.

Did you know that the Disability Community is the only minority that anyone can join at any time?

My shoulder hurts, I have a compression fracture or some strange thing in my back that is causing my hip to hurt so much I am using two canes, today and after these things pass and I get back to life as usual, I am going to break or tear or compress something else. Such is life. Such is pity. Such is coping.

Well, dear readers, thanks for sitting with me for nearly 500 words. I’m pulling up my pants, now, I need to go dead-head some flowers.  My next post will entertain you.

Please, put the lid down and turn out the lights when you finish.