My noise began when I fell to the floor. When my life as I knew it left me behind without knowing anything about where I suddenly was. The only thing I knew was my life became a foreign land.
There, in my head began the chatter, then the yelling, then the screaming. I had nothing but the constant noise of trying to navigate my foreign body and land. It was everywhere I went, everywhere I wanted to be, every single moment of my day, in everything I tried to do.
I couldn’t walk without a cane; I couldn’t see my environment clearly. I couldn’t just be me. The noise held me captive, I didn’t know how to turn it off. I couldn’t find the volume control. It kept getting louder and louder because I had nothing to think about other than how to get from one place to another. There wasn’t anything to give me encouragement or assistance. All I could do was compare what was wrong with me, what I could no longer do, to what I used to be able to do. The noise never stopped.
How did I turn it down? Acceptance. Pure, joyful acceptance.
I had to decide to take control. I decided that I wasn’t going to let my disability control me and definitely not define me.
I began to control the changes I was going through. I discovered unique and effective ways to maneuver through my environment. It wasn’t easy by any means, but it was whole lot less noisy when I didn’t think about it so hard.
I believe we all have noise. That something that keeps us in a challenge of our past, one that we want to leave behind. Or perhaps it’s a current place we don’t want to be in anymore. Yet, there’s the lovely noise that’s wonderful and beautiful and makes us smile with gratitude. That’s the noise to cherish.
My disability is still with me, that’s just the way it’s going to be. It was when I took control of the volume knob that my noise quieted.
So, I made my disability pick up my books and give back my lunch money. I wasn’t going to take its crap any longer. I wasn’t going to let it make me compare myself to anything anymore. I only had to repair using what I already had – me.
I gently moved my disability to my side and in front of me, replaced it with creative possibility, courage, belief, and faith in myself. I turned down the noise and turned up my life.
Now, with gratitude, I wonderfully, beautifully, quietly smile.
