Looking at the date today, it seems like only recently but in actual fact it has been fourteen long years since it occurred. For thirteen years running, this very date was so significant it has never failed to stab my heart with some freakin’ spiritual dagger or something.
For thirteen years running now, I kept pondering upon myself with all the useless ‘What ifs’ and all the pointless ‘If Only’ and would end up feeling lousy throughout the whole day and night even my appetite would shy away that I had to skip supper.
I’m not good at playing with words so not gonna get into all the soapy metaphorical nonsense here with what actually took place today exactly 14 years ago.
Before I had a blog to call my own, unless it was a birthday, I don’t usually keep tracks on many important anniversary dates. But the 8th of February means the world to me, albeit for an unfortunate reason.
It was the day when I lost the ability to use my lower limbs, and at the ripe age of 18. Talking about living in complete misery, how about that for some real deal horror.
Being an active yoong lad (as Masefield would pronounce it) with a raging hormone, active in football with a dribbling skill similar to one Jean Pierre Papin, to suddenly turn a crippled was as good as dead.
Looking back during the earlier years, its bad enough to reveal here what a total jerk I was. I can always blame depression for acting like a real shithead back then but if only I knew I’d pull through, I would have started to look ahead much earlier.
It took me years to finally realized I was gonna stay a super-freak cacat for the rest of my life.
I missed heck a lot of stuff that normal people would normally go through at some major points of their life. Applying for the first ever job while waiting for exam results, then enroll in some university/colleges, graduated before getting a proper job that suits one’s academic background, getting engaged, get married and boom, so on and so forth…
Honestly, I’ve never experienced any of the above. Ok so I may be academically-challenged, but by no means I’m unintelligent and don’t worth a shit. Being on wheelchair does not always mean I can be pushed around, nor taken for a ride.
I always tell my wheel buddies my parents were the major factor in getting me on the track again. I had two options. Either to stay on bed making a mess out of my parents’ lives or to get off of my ass and lessen their burden. That wasn’t difficult of a choice to make and with Pinky supplying the light in my darkest moment, it eases the journey through the winding tunnel and kept me moving forward without looking back.
Today however, I am determined to make a change. No more of the annual depression-filled 8th February. And with the strength I gathered through out the years, looking back is a real peanut. I can now do just that with a broad smile on my face.
Tonight, I shall be having my usual supper. Such bliss.