My Body, My Self

By Kim Miller

My body is my most precious possession; it is also a central part of my identity. While I admire my body’s resilience, endurance and strength, I am reminded on a daily basis of its limitations and needs. I live in a body that seems to contradict itself.

There are times when I feel strong, healthy and full of energy – ready and able to take on new challenges. Those times are too quickly forgotten on days when my body is immobilized with pain. Due to my disability, I can barely tie my own shoelaces, yet I have jumped from an airplane at 10,000 feet. Opening bottles and cans, peeling vegetables, mending clothes and using scissors are near impossible tasks for me. Yet, I have hiked in the wilds of “southern” Alaska, gone snorkeling off the coast of Mexico and galloped across open fields and over fences on my horse.

It has been nearly 10 years now since I was seriously injured and permanently disabled by an impaired motorcyclist. It is only now that I am finally putting the process of my recovery into perspective.

For those of us who acquire a disability suddenly, whether due to accident or illness, one of the most difficult things to accept is this “new skin” within which we must learn to live. What we look like, how we function and how we feel about ourselves has been altered. Our whole concept of “self” has been deeply affected, even completely shattered, as a result of the changes to our body. Our identity shifts suddenly when we understand that we have become “disabled.” We are now members of a disadvantaged minority group. We must make a decision to “come out of the closet” and accept that we are part of the community of people with disabilities, or we must learn to accept and get by in a world that was designed for people who do not have disabilities.

Coping with the physical changes to one’s body is complicated by the emotional impact of these changes. People may feel betrayed by their own body. They may experience feelings of frustration at their new limitations; self-hatred because of their looks; grief over the loss of a body part or function; and sadness or anger due to forced changes in lifestyles, career plans, future goals and relationships. There is a general sense of loss of control over one’s life. It is immensely difficult to hang on to a sense of who you really are in the face of these obstacles to self-acceptance.

What we have to remember is that how other people see us is greatly influenced by how we feel about ourselves. How we perceive and present ourselves to the world can determine how other people feel about and interact with us. If we can redefine our self-concept in a positive light, we will be well on the road to adjusting to the disability and being accepted for who we are by other people.

The lesson to be learned here is that our physical self is but one small part of our whole Self. Our self-esteem does not have to depend on traditional measures of acceptability: how flawless our bodies/looks are, how fast or strong we are or how many lovers we attract. Our self-esteem should rest on qualities beyond physicality. Feeling competent, confident and creative; being loving and lovable; doing things we enjoy and are good at; being able to set and work towards goals; helping others and allowing ourselves to ask for help; contributing to our communities; encouraging others to do their best; and always, always challenging ourselves to continue growing, learning and making each day count – these are the qualities which, in the end, matter the most in defining your Self.

People whose bodies are radically changed due to accident or illness need to develop strategies for building and maintaining a positive self-concept. For instance, accommodating the disability by learning new skills and approaches, rather than denying or inflating the effects of the disability, is a positive coping strategy. Similarly, you must acknowledge your new limitations without letting them dominate your life; accept the disability for what it is (perhaps just a frustrating inconvenience) without letting it devalue you as a person; let go of your conception of what you once were; stop comparing yourself to others or trying to meet society’s impossible standards; allow your values to shift away from physical traits; and, perhaps most importantly, understand that your entire life does not have to be controlled, affected or determined by your disability.

The more of these ideals or strategies that you are able to integrate into your new self-concept, the better your adjustment to disability will be. Coping with disability is an ongoing process; it is not an either/or, black or white, “do-it-and-get-it-over-with” thing. You must allow your Self to evolve as you confront novel situations and develop new coping strategies.

Undeniably, having a disability is not fun. While it is not easy to work one’s life around the many barriers which society, ourselves and others put before us, it can be done. A disability need not dominate anyone’s life or self-identity. It takes a great deal of effort and persistence in the face of ambivalence, fear and resistance to rebuild one’s shattered sense of Self.

For me, adjusting to disability has meant accepting all the components of my body on an equal basis as merely small parts of my Self. It has meant changing my priorities, taking better care of my health and learning to listen to and trust my intuition. It has taken me nearly 10 years but somehow, I am learning to find my Self inside this body that I live in, care for and love.