I Was Free but Yet Imprisoned by the Mind

Pain is part of who we are.

The memories of the warm evening on October 23 are still vivid in my mind. We were running late for a friend’s party. My half-sister and my best friend wanted us to bail.

I told them we couldn’t because we owed it to the celebrant. He had helped us with accommodation and other support when we got admission.

As freshers, I also thought it would be nice to connect with seniors. The celebrant was a final-year student and one of the bright stars on campus. It would have been a shame if we missed the opportunity to build a connection with the best of the best.

Most freshers are often the target of cultist and bad males and females gangs, but having a feared senior is a shield to wind off the bad guys.

Thirty minutes into the party, everyone was drunk. They had been drinking before the party started. We chatted up a couple of brilliant students before the flirting began. We got uncomfortable with the oozing and body touching. The smokers dn’t mind puffing out smokes every, both inside and outside the hall.

It wasn’t what we expected at all. So we presented our gifts to the celebrant and left. We were only ten seconds away from the arena when an upcoming vehicle collided with my motorcycle. My best friend and I were on one motorbike while my half-sister was on another right behind us.

I remember waking up in the emergency room with a severe ache in my back. My half-sister urged me to get up so we would go back to the hostel. As I tried to get up from the bed, I released that I couldn’t move my lower limbs.

Till today, I still don’t remember how I got to the hospital. I remember our motorcycle falling after a wrongful overtaking. I was trying to lift the motorcycle from my leg when an upcoming vehicle brushed past me while still lying on the road. Everything after that was blank. I passed out.

The doctor said I had broken some bones on my hips and legs and sustained multiple fractures on my spine, paralyzing me from the mid-back down to my feet. Though a disc in my cervical spine was replaced with multiples plates and screws, the X-rays and scans showed that I would never walk again.

Three months into my accident, I started complaining about abdominal pains and vomiting uncontrollably. One of the nurses who I had gotten close to suggested I go for a pregnancy test.

Shockingly, I was positive, and I had no idea what to do. My mum, who was with me at the hospital, tried not to break down in front of me. Not only will I not walk again, I also have another human being growing inside of me. Can life be any crueler? I thought.

When I started rehab four months later, I was not allowed to do any heavy lifting because my legs were too broken to sustain weights.

Later, I was discharged to either use a wheelchair or walk with bracelets and crutches. I felt frustrated because my recovery was slow, and I dn’t like using bracelets and crutches to walk around.

So I accepted using the wheelchair. Also, it made my life easier with the pregnancy.

Coping with disability

Getting home was like a different world. The house I grew up in became torture. I lived in denial for the first few years. I needed help with getting in and out of clothes, bathing, laundry, or cleaning.

I wasn’t allowed to cook so that I wouldn’t burn or pour hot food on myself. I stopped socializing with my friends. I locked myself in my room crying and asking; why me?

It got to a point I hated waking up to see the same state of my body, paralyzed and helpless. I attempted to end my life on multiple occasions. If not for my mum, who stopped me on each occasion and started hiding every sharp object and took my painkillers away from my sight — I might have succeeded.

Being disabled in one of the poorest countries posed many challenges for me. Going back to my school was not an option because there was no hope of getting a job after graduation. I had no skill, and there was no possibility of getting by without human assistance.

The life I had dreamed of had been shut down right in front of me in just one night. I felt like I was drowning in a deep ocean with no light in sight. I couldn’t do anything for myself or the child I was expecting. I felt like there was nothing out there for me to do or enjoy anymore. I was useless and had nothing to contribute to the world I was living in.

It sucked that the was no hope of getting a cure, and even if there were, my parents couldn’t afford it. It sucked that my child will live with the mockery of having a disabled mother and no father.

The resentments I had over things I couldn’t change kept building up to my depression. I gave up without a fight. Surrendering was my emotional escape from my reality.

When my daughter was born, I felt a wind of emotion overtake my being. At that moment, I buried my pain and frustration at the feet of this ecstasy that overwhelmed me. As I kissed her chin in the labor room, I felt free. I felt renewed. I felt alive.

She was real, innocent, and charming. Her smile was comforting. Her touch was soothing. I could feel her warmth was love and tender. I had brought a tiny being into the earth, and she was my responsibility now.

I wanted to fight my depression. I wanted to live for her. At that moment, I wanted to shield her from all humiliation the world will throw at her. I wanted to be a shoulder she could cry on when things got tough. I wanted to be the hand that guides her through the rough patches. But how could I save her from any of this when I needed saving?

Two months after my daughter’s arrival, reality kicks in. I was paralyzed, a dropout, jobless, broke, and hopeless. Sure my parents were not complaining.

They took on the responsibility of providing whatever I needed, and my daughter was no different from their children. She grew up just like any normal child and was loved equally like any member of the family.

I’m so grateful for the family I have. Without them, I’m not sure I would have made it through.

Life back into the mainstream

After three years of battling depression, I finally had the courage to return to school and complete my degree. Thanks to the mindfulness exercises and self-improvement program I joined, I was able to experience a spiritual awakening.

Going to public places using transportation and building construction was a hurdle. I was afraid to return to school because I would be bullied and be made a mockery of, and I was right to worry.

I hated it when someone pulled my wheelchair, assuming I needed help without asking my permission first.

People’s first impression was to notice my disability and make assumptions based on that. My course mates would avoid being paired with me on an assignment because they thought I wouldn’t contribute meaningfully.

Some jerks will leave rude remarks on my locker. The others will sexually harass me in the hallway or when I ask for help lifting me up the staircase.

I avoided intimate relationships because I felt unworthy. The two I got involved with left me without closure, and that sunk my self-esteem to the bottom.

Returning to a mainstream life that ignores the needs of the disabled was the most agonizing part of surviving a tragic accident.

When everything changed

A friend of my mum visited me one day and said to me, “you’re a survivor, not a victim.” She said it was up to me to decide how I see myself.

I remember looking at myself in the mirror and asking myself, “What do I see?” “Who do I see?” That was when it dawned on me that I wanted to be the survivor she saw in me. I was determined to find who I was as a person, not who the world made me think I was.

That was the moment my journey of self-discovery started. The world has made disabled people into weak, vulnerable beings. Disabled are preys munched at by the rich and powerful. We were used as political dogs for campaigns and rallies but never given a seat at the political table.

I saw firsthand how the disabled are portrayed as pitiable and pathetic, laughable, aggressive, burden, non-sexual, and incapable of contributing to society’s socio-economic well-being by the common man.

I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to change the stereotype around people with disabilities. Disabled are not objects of pity. Their talents and skills can be used for productive growth.

My experience led me to discover who I am, and if I wanted to be a survivor, I had to make an impact in society. The values I possess have helped me achieve more in life than I ever thought I would.

Finding a balance between reality and morality

Before my accident, I was a competitive person. I would constantly compare my life with others. If my classmate had an “A” in a given subject, I would want to surpass him in the next exam. If my girlfriend got new shoes, I would buy one more expensive. I had to be better than everyone, or else I will be a loser.

But that changed after I got stuck depending on others. It was a revelation of the wrong upbringing I went through. As the first child of my mother, the pressure to hold the family together was overwhelming. I had to let go of being the glue so that I could be happy.

I will always be there for my family, but not having to sacrifice my peace of mind in the process was like a breakthrough in accepting my reality.

I also discovered that hope is a gift of the present and the future we see. I wasn’t deep into my spirituality. Sure, I grew up in a catholic home and followed all Christian doctrines, but believing in what I do not see was an illusion.

I used to go with the principle, “seeing is believing.” That mindset was changed after my self-awakening journey.

I found myself in a state of bliss after meditation. The good thing about being aware of my true self is realizing that everything is within my control.

I can change whatever challenges I was facing to better align with what’s meaningful and nourishing for me. I can choose to see the bright side of any situation. And that was the power I never knew I had.

In order to achieve my purpose, I had to transform my perception. I started believing in miracles, taking my physiotherapy seriously.

I challenged myself to drop the leg bracelet. Learning to walk with a walker was difficult at first, especially going down the stairs. I gradually progressed to using crutches and then a walking stick.

The first day I walked without support was like a miracle indeed. I felt like I was dreaming and didn’t want to wake up. A few weeks after my healing, I started doing yoga which helped with the flexibility and strength in my muscles.

I wish I had known the blessings that come with pain before my accident. Pain is a part of who we are. It has so much beauty and opportunity that you can only discover if you rid your heart of the negativity flooding your mind and be in a state of awareness.

Now when I’m faced with a challenging circumstance, I carry on happily, knowing the end is full of opportunities to give me inner peace and fulfillment.