Historically, people with disabilities have been marginalized. We have been looked down upon by the rest of society; we have been ostracized and treated as ‘the other.’ This is because we are told by the media not to be ‘different;’ we are told to hide what makes us ‘less.’ We are told not to embrace the very fabric of what makes us unique; we are told to hide in solemn obedience surrounding our very individuality – our humanity. We are told not to show any faults, to tuck our insecurities away and only take them out when in private. We are told that the only time we truly can reflect upon ourselves is in front of a mirror. We are told not to look too closely at the reflection in the mirror, and to mold and shape and tweak our bodies to be in conformity to what is the ‘flavor of the week’ ‘out there.’
As humans, we crave social connection; we have an intrinsic desire to be accepted, and to feel loved and like we belong. There are very specific rules surrounding social connection which, in the mainstream, Westernized society, are carefully and strategically put forth into the public eye by the media, to carve out a very specific type of quantifiable ‘success;’ to control, truly, how people behave.
As such, a common feeling for people with disabilities is isolation and loneliness. When we don’t feel included, we feel marginalized. When we feel as though we don’t fit in, we feel a sense of disconnection to the world. I wrote about my feeling of disconnection to the world in my blog post here about bullying. This phenomenon is the same with seniors, and with other marginalized populations such as people who are homeless (click here to read my story on David and Miriam).
I have a stutter. I’ve felt its strain on my desire to be accepted — to feel love; having a stutter isn’t something that is typically attractive or something others can just forget about; it impacts how I communicate all the time. Telling jokes is not my forte. As such, I have lived in shame of my stutter for a long time, especially when I was first growing up. I felt anxious meeting new people and introducing myself — those dreaded ‘circle introductions’ always got me (and, I can assure you, still do).
As humans, we are meant to engage with others and be social. I have had to hide my insecurities surrounding my stutter, and the dip in self-confidence it continues to give me to this day, because we are told not to speak about our weak points.
I know someone who would tell everyone he met that he has challenges with social cues and with ‘socially-accepted behaviour.’ The intrinsic desire for social connection — indeed, the Theory of Love — spurred him to do this; but, alas, people backed away from him, because that ‘isn’t what you’re supposed to do.’ Rather, people weren’t comfortable with the idea of someone so openly expressing their insecurities — what they are challenged with.
We all have challenges; we all experience hardship and fight internal battles that make us feel weak or inadequate. It’s time we start owning them — together.
Share your vulnerability; something that you struggle with. It is time to get past this idea of being flawless and ‘perfect,’ especially online. Use the hashtag #IamReal to share your mental health reality.
When you look into the mirror tomorrow morning, which version of yourself will you be?