Invalid

Invalid is quite a strange word. It can be pronounced two ways, and the definition for each is quite different from the other. And yet, somehow similar at the same time...

I suppose I can be classified by both. It's plain to see that I have a disability, so that makes me an invalid. And I guess I'm also considered invalid by everyone. I'm not worth anything more than being an object of ridicule, of mockery, and most of all, an object of pity.

I hate pity with a passion. It is unnecessary and hurtful. Condescending, even. I don't want any of that.
I have the right to be treated as an equal, and especially as an individual. I don't want anybody's help. In fact, I don't want help at all. If all anyone has to offer me is pity and contempt, then they can get screwed, because I am going to turn them down every time.

The only person I can trust is myself. I'm all I've got, and that's enough.
So what if I don't have someone to comfort me when I cry myself to sleep at night? So what if I don't have anyone to tend to my frequently occurring injuries? So what if there isn't anyone I can relate to?
I don't need anyone.

Well, that's what I used to think. Until I realised that I was actually depressed and miserable the whole time, just trying to survive day by day. Life shouldn't just be about surviving day by day, it should be enjoyed to the fullest while you still have it. There is always someone around you who cares. And being strong doesn't mean that you can only rely on yourself. There is nothing wrong with accepting help, it's perfectly natural.

I can't believe it took me so long to realise this.
But I did.
And I have two very special boys to thank for that.

Chris Stevenson and Eric Valdez.