She Wore a Skirt (and loved it!)

I realized yesterday that half of my lifetime has passed since I paid attention to fashion, makeup, nail polish and such. Yes, twenty-five years! When I was fresh out of college with my first grown-up job, I shopped endlessly and had a great wardrobe. Shoes, purses, jewelry to go with every outfit. A closet full of designer labels. It mattered to me, ALOT.

Then I got married and had babies and became a stay-at-home mom, and fashion morphed into function: stirrup pants with tunic tops, jumpers with turtlenecks. I dressed and looked like a kindergarten teacher. Then, about the time my kids became adolescents, my disability really started progressing. I became depressed, gained weight, and basically didn't give a crap about my appearance... my subconscious attitude was "Why bother. I'm screwed in the physical realm anyhow." Then, I became a Christian and thought I had better, loftier things to attend to than putting on lipstick... like changing the world. While at the height of saving everybody else,about two years ago, a homeless, recovering alcoholic told me I would be taken alot more seriously if I didn't look like her.

Ouch. WAKE UP CALL!!! I immediately began a quest to dress better, which was incredibly difficult since I was obese, could not wear shoes on my swollen feet, and was basically a physical train-wreck. (It's only looking back that I see where I was. At the time, engrossed in helping people, I was oblivious to my own need to be saved.)

Sometimes salvation comes through the backdoor. Back in March, when my world crumbled, I had nothing to do and nobody to save. In the midst of the confusion and the loss of bearings, I focused on the only thing that was left: me. Oh, I lamented and mourned and wanted real work to do and people to help. Instead, in the absence of that, I rode my Nustep. and rode it. and rode it. and cried.

Yesterday was one of those days where you suddenly see that life has changed even while you didn't realize it was changing. I spent most of the day trying on clothes. For the first time in ten years, I dressed in front of a full length mirror that I had placed in my bedroom. I had been shopping for the past several weeks (online, ebay, department stores, and thrift stores) and had piles of clothes to sort through... to try to re-learn what I knew at age 25: that looking good is an art and it takes work. Not everything works on every body. Compounding that, a disabled body brings a slew of additional challenges.

Just take trying on clothes, for instance. The average able-bodied person bops into the fitting room with an armload of clothes. Stands, stoops, twists, turns, tugs and returns to the racks for more armloads of clothes. I, on the other hand, don't have the physical stamina for that. Usually, I buy clothes that might work and try them on, a little at a time, at home. Most go back to the store, which entails another laborious shopping expedition. (I don't just park in the fire lane and dash into the store for a two minute return. Even that trip has to be carefully orchestrated and planned.)

Yesterday, I tried on tights. With paralyzed legs, something as simple as putting on a pair of tights is a challenge. I reached over and lifted my left leg and set it on my right thigh. Then I started rolling the tights over my foot, which slipped and fell to the floor. I repeated this until I got the tights over my foot. Then I repeated that for my right foot. With the tights pulled to my thighs, I stood up from my wheelchair and tried to quickly pull them up the rest of the way. (Quickly because I have terrible balance.) Ha! Ain't nothing quick about trying to pull tights (think about the name!) over size 18 hips. I thought about wearing them scrunched at mid-thigh, but was so excited about the fashion doors that tights could open, that I persisted. In order to gain better balance, I put my forehead against the wall. The resultant trapezoid formed between the wall and my two feet gave me the stability to coax (read, wrestle) those tights (did I buy toddler sized by mistake?)over my womanly hips. And then I looked down and saw I had pulled a large snag in the fabric and had to start all over again! But it was worth the effort and more!

For the first time in ten years, I wore a skirt! It was a cute, military styled knee-length khaki skirt. (And size 18! If you had told me 25 years ago that one day I would be delighted to be small enough to fit into a size 18 skirt, that would have sounded totally nuts!) With my gunmetal gray tights, new pewter-colored flats, red sweater set and gray pearls, I looked fantastic. It took an entire day of trying on clothes, and discarding items that just didn't work on my body (like long shirts or skirts... I couldn't believe that I looked GOOD in thigh length skirts!!!!) but the end result was a polished, cute, fun outfit. I spent extra time on my hair and makeup, and for the first time in a long, long, long time, I felt like my exterior matched my interior. It was one of the best days of my life.

Two years ago, I couldn't wear shoes on my swollen feet. I had wounds on my legs. I was a size 24. I dried my hair by hanging my head out the window. I rarely wore makeup.

Yesterday, I had polished nails, cute shoes (still a challenge to find cute shoes for my still partially swollen feet), LEGS!!!, great hair (getting caramel colored hi-lites next week), and I felt like the bell of the ball.

I could write all day about the wonder of it all, but, hey, I have shopping to do.

And by the way, this is not a Madison-avenue, fear-based, vanity trip. This is saying to myself and to the world, "An overweight, wheelchair-using woman can believe she is worth of this kind of honor and attention and she can live out the beauty that she feels inside." Maybe that changes the world without trying to change the world.

Something About Lynna

Last night, while exercising, I had the tv on in the background and found myself laughing at a scene in "Something about Mary", a comedy that was produced, what, ten years ago? My laughter turned into dismay, however.

Quick plot overview: Boy likes girl in high school. Girl moves away. Ten years later, boy hires PI to find girl. PI falls for girl (played by the lovely, sprightly Cameron Diaz). In order to pursue the girl for his own, PI lies to boy that girl has gained weight. "Not bad for deuce or deuce fifty." Dismay crosses boys face. PI goes on to say that she uses a wheelchair. Boy's dismay turns into despair. Oh, and she has four kids, never been married, and lives in the projects! The plot line leaves no doubt that the writers of this spoof were seeking a caricature of the worst possible scenario a guy could imagine for the high school prom princess of his youth.

The movie proceeds with the guy overcoming his disgust and pity at the thought of his sweetheart's fate, and he sets out to find her anyhow. He is portrayed as noble. A man of rare valor and depth. A man willing to overlook her porky crippled state with high hopes that he might rescue her.

Hollywood! You got it exactly wrong. This overweight, wheelchair using, very smart, very accomplished, attractive woman says, "Please stop perpetuating the pity party! Please stop with the shallow and untrue portrayal of people with disabilities as pathetic."

Hollywood, you might be unable to see beauty beyond the shallow size 2 botox box, but I'm here to tell you and the world that a 200 pound woman in a wheelchair can be strong, intelligent, sexy, powerful, brave, loving, beautiful and a "catch" for any guy who is smart enough and worthy enough to earn her affection.

Hollywood, you write whatever plot line you want for your silly tales. I'm living my own drama and in it, I am the beautiful heroine. In it I am the prom princess grown up to use a wheelchair and to glide in regal splendor. Hollywood, THAT's an interesting story. Your version... well... just a little boring.

When you're ready to tell a good story, send my agent a proposal.

Wonderful Abundance

To anybody reading this, I just say, "God Bless YOU!" My kids make fun of my writing all the time. (I think they're gently ribbing ol' mom, but you never can tell for sure. "Overwritten" "Flowery Tripe" "More of your usual Blah, Blah, Blah". Yup, they MUST be kidding around just to see if they can get a rise out of me. Come on! They couldn't be serious, could they?)

Enough of that... let's get on with the overwritten tripe, shall we?

This past weekend I had a marvelous adventure at a day-long auction of surplus materials from the Oak Ridge National Labs. A gigantic warehouse was full to the brim with vintage industrial lab furnishings and equipment. Seriously geeky, wonderful, scientific equipment. Have you ever wanted a positron accelerator distillation thermo-coupled neutron microscope? It was surely there. Not only was the warehouse full of all this gloriously wonderful stuff, but intermingled amidst the items were throngs of wonderfully geeky men: scientists, businessmen, machinists. I had so much fun kidding around with them, bidding against them, and enjoying the confusion on their faces when the woman in the wheelchair beat the pants off of them in the psychological war known as bidding.

Every once in awhile I would lose out on an item I really wanted. When that happened, I would tell myself, "Self, there is abundance in the universe. Don't sweat missing out on that xyz."

It would be a good question for you to ask at this point, "What does that have to do with a freakin' blog about wellness?" Glad you asked... EVERYTHING!

I realized that there was a time in my life when auctions could be really distressing. If I wanted something and didn't win, I'd think obsessively about it. Instead of paying attention with gratitude to the items I had won, I'd dream about, yearn for, cry over the one thing that I hadn't.

Such was my approach to food. Instead of that attitude of "there is abundance in the universe", I approached food with the attitude, "I better grab and eat everything I can because I don't want to pass over something because it might not come this way again." Approaching food with the attitude that there is more than enough today, and there will be more than enough tomorrow and potentially better things tomorrow, no less, I am able to easily pass up the chocolate brownie or lasagna or...

Tomorrow is another day, and it will come with its own surprises and abundance. I may drive along the road and come upon an even better geeky piece of equipment in some body's roadside trash than the one I lost in the bidding war; or I might learn that NOT having the item and being content is the real prize; or I might learn that feeling my ribcage for the first time in years is more abundance than a bakery full of cake...

Abundance. There is more than enough. And I don't have to have it all, and especially don't have to have it all today.

(Can't wait for the next auction. Did I mention all those wonderfully abundant men? :)

Wellness Breeds Wellness

This morning I arrived at work and parked in front of the smoking area for the adjacent business. Standing there were three very attractive, young, fashionable women. There was a time in my life, not so long ago, that I would have chosen to wait until they were through with their break before leaving my automobile. I wouldn't have wanted to endure the shame of the judgments that would surely be occurring. I wouldn't have been able to stand seeing myself through their eyes as I projected my damaged self-image onto them. Like a boomerang.

Not any more, though. I noted that I had changed and went busily about the business of getting my wheelchair reassembled, gathering my belongings and rolling towards my office.

As I smiled and said, "Hello" to the women, one particularly fresh-faced and cute 20-something said, "I hope you didn't think I was staring at you. I was watching so intently because my husband was in an accident a few months ago and is now a paraplegic learning how to do things like load and unload his wheelchair. I wanted to see how you did it." Cold chills.

Imagine the opportunity that would have been lost had I not experienced healing/self-acceptance and had hidden away in my vehicle! We talked for about 10 minutes and I sensed that I can help this young couple navigate the new and difficult terrain in which they find themselves. Pure grace.

Wellness. It creates ripples and fosters more wellness. Glorious system God has designed, dontcha think? :)

Instant Replay of Movie Adventure

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=THuqXi8g5ao&NR=1

Thanks to my friend, Diane, I found this video on youtube. There are a few differences between this video and Saturday night:

We were NOT drunk (don't have that excuse!)
It's at a home instead of a movie theatre
It's dudes instead of a bunch of church ladies

Even with those exceptions, this gives you an idea what my friends made me do on Saturday. Really,guys, did you have to goad me into careening down the stairs! (If only I had that as a real excuse!)

Movie Adventures (Part 2)

From my perspective, this is where the story gets interesting.

The movie ends. Credits roll. Theatre empties. Sweating begins. Time to execute my creatively crafted "Operation Get Lynna Off the Ground". I sent Jen off to my car for my crutches, kindly thanked the lovely man who earlier had offered assistance, and began reassuring my friends that I was okay and that together, all of us doing a part as the Body of Christ, we could do this thing.

This is classic. Diane said, "I hadn't realized you had fallen when I saw you over there on the aisle. I thought you just wanted to sit there. I thought it was kinda odd." (If my bladder had been full, I definitely would have peed from the belly laugh this evoked.) She then said, "Lynna, you are supposed to go down stairs backwards!" Why in the heck did this ablebodied woman know this and I DID NOT! Diane, I need you to teach me how to better navigate disability!

Jen returned with my crutches and I took a deep breath and rolled over onto my knees, knowing that was the first step in the process. I instructed somebody behind me to lift my right ankle and uncross my leg off of my left leg, as I could not do that myself. I tried to pull up using the handrail, when Jen suggested crawling up a step so I would be at the top when I got in the chair instead of down one step. Yup! Great thinking! So here we are: Jen is steadying my chair so it doesn't roll backwards, others are following my directions to help position my feet, knees, crutches etc., others have been instructed their job is to pray (really), and still another assisted by keeping the well-meaning and concerned staff from impeding progress. "She's okay and we've got this under control. Relax." Truly, we did this together. And we did it with style, grace and laughter, and, surprisingly, with ease. Once I was seated, the manager asked if I would give her my name, address etc. and a synopsis. Upon hearing, she looked puzzled and asked quizzically, "You mean, you slid out of your chair because you were trying to go down stairs?" Well, duh, doesn't everybody in a wheelchair do that!"

As we left the theatre, some of my favorite memories of the evening occurred in the parking lot.

Michelle: They were probably worried you might sue them.
Me: Hey, Jen, next time we go out let's start with you dumping me out at the restaurant and I'll get us all free meals. And then we can repeat that at the movie, and...

Jeanetta: I was surprised to see so many people using the handicapped seating area.
Me: (between gulping laughter): Yeh, well everybody else in the theatre was surprised to see the handicapped woman sitting on the ground!
Me: I wonder if everybody thought I was inebriated and felt sorry for the drunk crippled woman?

It was fun and silly. Once we got to my car, I announced, "I have something to say here. (choked up a little) I need you to know that disability can be really hard and it can suck at times. But there are moments when the difficulty can be transformed into joy. And you guys have done that for me tonight. Thanks friends."

And we got in our cars and headed home. Until our next adventure... (if they are brave enough to give it another go, that is!)

Movie Adventures (Part 1)

One of these days, I am going to have enough material about my experiences at movie theatres to write a book on that subject alone. For now, though, you, gentle reader, are seeing a preview of that book in the making.

This chapter is zany.

Last Saturday, after months of staying away from involvement with people at my church (needing the space and the distance to heal), I went out with a group of women for dinner and a movie. Most were moms who left elementary school-age kids home with dads for a night of relaxation and laughter. (There were seven of us, ranging from early 30's to late 40's.)

I met them at the restaurant and started the evening feeling ebullient that I could be independent and do this without needing assistance. Learning how to load and unload my wheelchair into my vehicle by myself has opened intoxicating possibilities and has empowered me to grab hold of life with gusto.

I was late getting there and, instead of taking the extra time needed to wrestle with assembling my wheelchair, I asked a family walking past if they could give me a hand. The mom and dad fell over themselves to help, with their two young sons intently watching. I like to think that I blessed them by asking.

Quick note on dinner as it related to my fitness quest: I stayed 100% on plan with a small steak, asparagus and salad. I thoroughly enjoyed watching the others enjoying their appetizers and desserts. Actually, sitting there sipping a cup of coffee while watching their smiles as they dug into their confections, and knowing that I was doing a good thing for my body by abstaining, felt like I had dived into a triple-decker chocolate souffle. I didn't feel deprived. I felt like the abundance of the universe was mine. Delicious.

We finished dinner and assembled the troops to drive to the theatre to watch our chick flick of choice: "Eat,Pray,Love" (How perfect for a woman who desperately needed a time with friends to do all of that!) Jen rode with me and that five minute drive was pure gold as she shared her heart's passion to nurture children in our faith. Way more riveting than a movie!

The movie... theatre was packed. All of the seats except the one row with cutouts for wheelchairs were accessed only by climbing or descending stairs. Two of my friends stayed with me on that row and the rest went towards the front a couple of rows, down two, shallow steps.

I sat there feeling guilty for being the reason the group couldn't sit together. This is the worst part about disability... the way it can impede experiences of community because of physical barriers.

The trailers were just beginning, when I had a lightbulb flash. "Hey Jen and Jeanetta! Lets' go down there and sit with them. I can roll down those itty bitty stairs!" NOT!!! At the first stair, the cushion on my wheelchair slid forward and dumped me awkwardly flat on the ground!!! A sweet man sitting on that aisle and my friends rushed to help. What they didn't realize was that getting to my feet or back into the chair would likely be an involved process with me needing to give verbal directions and make numerous attempts before creatively figuring out how to align the vector forces in the physical space to do this thing. I entreated them to just wait until the movie was over and let me sit on the aisle through it. Oh well, at least I had achieved my goal: we were all sitting together in the theatre! My friends were absolute loves. Jen reached out and squeezed my hand. Michelle moved my chair so I could lean back against it for a backrest. Those small acts spoke loudly of love and compassion. It's okay to sit on the floor when you know you are loved. Truly.

I confess, I was distracted through the movie, even though I enjoyed it immensely. I was busy plotting different possibilities for getting up when it was over that wouldn't involve having to call the Knoxville Fire Department. Oh, and fervent prayers, and I do mean fervent, that my bladder would not fill during the two hour movie. (I had 2 diet cokes and two cups of coffee at dinner, so this was a VERY REAL concern!) I know my bladder and when it is full, if I put pressure on it through exertion, urine doesn't just leak but erupts and I am unable to stop it. Talk about turning an already difficult situation into something off the charts! (I won't keep you in suspense. Apparently God heard my prayers. I even made it all the way home before going to the bathroom after the movie. Crisis averted. I love you, God!

Let's finish this story in the next post shall we?
Did the firetruck make a run that night to the Turkey Creek theatre?
Am I writing this today, days later, still stuck on that aisle floor being kept alive with popcorn and milk duds?

Stay tuned...