Fighting Dystonia, Chronic Lyme Disease & EDS Type 3… any questions?

Posts tagged ‘disabled dating’

“Who Is That Guy?”

After receiving several messages across various social media platforms regarding the pictures I’ve been posting, I figured it was time I addressed them. The quick answer to your questions is I found a really great guy.

Who is he?

Meet Damon, my ridiculously wonderful boyfriend. He’s rather fantastic, and sees my chronic illness as just part of me being ‘unique’. Whether I’m twitching and hitting him, panicking about new symptoms, or worrying about hitting my preorder requirements he’s supportive and helps to keep me grounded and calm. He has an ability to make me giggle no matter my pain levels, and understands that I would always much rather laugh at my conditions than make a big deal out of it.

Is he Coffee shop guy?

Nope he isn’t. However, our first date did start off in Costa Coffee. We sat across from each other and had a fab laugh before heading down to the local museum where I promptly spilt the remainder of my coffee down the front of my jeans. He had to spend the next few hours walking around with me looking like I had had an accident. Luckily Damon is equally as clumsy as myself, so laughing off incidents like this is a frequent occurrence.

How come you haven’t blogged about him?

Well I have mentioned him briefly in a blog a couple of weeks back. But I decided to hold off on blogging about him whilst our relationship developed. I’m blessed that not only does he understand that I don’t want my illness to hinder my life but that I also need to pace myself (which as you all know I am rather terrible at). He is really good at reminding me not to use my spoons up, and checking that I am physically up to whatever we have planned that day.

Advertisements

Contemplating Dating

For the last eight months I have been frequenting the same coffee shop several times a week. If the sofa is available, I curl up in the corner of it whip out my notepad and will scrawl away for hours on end quite happily. It’s my routine, and one that I thoroughly enjoy. Spend enough time in places like this and you easily fall into habitual conversations and friendships with other coffee lovers.

The other day whilst lost in my thoughts, one of the regulars, Mr. Latte we shall call him, came over for our usual chat. Towards the end of our talk he asked if I’d be interested in going on a date and getting to know each other better. It was a lovely offer, and normally I would not hesitate, after all what do I have to lose? This time however I did pause. There have been so many occasions in the last year were I have watched my illnesses blow up a date in seconds; which is fine, it means time is not wasted, but it’s emotionally exhausting. Putting my conditions aside, I could not help but wonder how I would handle it. After the events of the other week the idea of being out with someone I only vaguely knew was not a pleasant one.

I find myself rather irritated by my reaction. When did I start to let my health and fears control me?  I have always been the person to say yes and jump on board. This momentary new attitude isn’t the person I am, and is one I refuse to allow to become part of me. My stumbled over “I’ll think about it”, is not something I’ll do again. If I want to do something, then great off I go, if I’d rather not then fine, that is also great. Saying either yes or no is okay, but I shall not be this indecisive person any longer.

Chip; Dating Disaster 4

After a productive three weeks in the hospital I’m finally back and settled in to university life again. What a better way to celebrate than providing you with the next installment of dating disasters? So hold on to your screens, grab some popcorn and settle in for a dose of embarrassment and reality.

I’d been seeing a guy, let’s call him John Smith, for a couple of weeks. He was entertaining, the attraction was mutual and things between us were progressing well. We had reached that thrilling stage of where do we go from here? It’s always an entertaining dance of social blunders. It’s an attractive situation to be in, and we were both thriving off the tension building. We had talked briefly about my jackpot of disorders and at the time I think he truly believed that he could cope with it all. I was more than happy to believe this. You would think I would know better by now. It would have been different if he had seen just what contortionist tricks my body is capable of from the word go, but when we met my injections were in full swing and so he had never borne witness to my reality.

One night, not that long ago, we were curled up watching a comedy. I always laugh hard at the sound of my own laughter, I’m a bit of a nutter like that. Seeing me in stitches conjured up warm and fuzzy feelings for Mr. Smith, and he leant over to kiss me. It started off great, slow, full of nerves from both of us. Have you ever yawned whilst kissing someone? Not the most attractive move, so to try and hide this, I pulled back. No one wants their face yawned on after all. John read this as me giving into my nervousness, so a little bit too enthusiastically placed his hands on either side of my face to pull me back towards him. If he had had his eyes open, he would have seen the horror in mine. As he pulled on my yawning cheeks I felt the spasm roar to life in my jaw, and the oh so familiar pain as my jaw dislocated.

Everybody deals with witnessing a person dislocate differently. Some people feel sick, others just want to get you seen by a Doctor. I can understand all of these reactions, I’m certain if it was the other way around I would be exactly the same. What I didn’t expect was the wide tumbling range of emotions that erupted from him. For the most part he was repulsed, partially due to the dislocation and partly because he had caused it. Then came the upset, anger and panic. I sat there rubbing in the volterol, knocking back muscle relaxants and pain killers, alternating between trying to calm him down and relocate my jaw.

It was one of the first times I have had someone blame me for being too breakable. At the time I was hurt, it wasn’t like I had not forewarned him. Now I hold my hands up and laugh it off. I am the opposite of breakable, I’m much like Chip the teacup in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast; Slightly chipped but otherwise a barrel of laughter, and perfectly functioning. Looking at me on a bad day I can understand why a person may get the wrong impression, but sit calmly and talk to me and I’ll tell you just how resilient I am. Stick around and I’ll even show you. For now, I’m going to enjoy being ‘breakable’, laugh at my mistakes, highs and downright weird life path. I love my body, flaws and all.

Date & Sex Debate…

One of my favorite comments on social media recently stated that they loved my recent blog post but when would I be posting another dating failure as they tickled her. Well here you go! Indulge and delight in my rather hideous taste in men.

This happened before Christmas and there are so many aspects of this date which were hideously embarrassing. This is one of the few dates that I have cut short, after simply losing my patience. It was a first date in the middle of the afternoon over coffee. After twitching and rather violently hitting the wall behind me I felt like I should explain slightly further my left arms unpredictability. “So like, if you twitched and hit me during sex, does that mean I get to spank you?” What should have been a two-minute discussion before returning back to normal pleasantries resulted in a passionate, at least on my side, debate on why it was not okay to ‘punish’ me for twitching.

Now I have no issue with people being into kinky bits and bobs in the bedroom, if that’s what you like then go for it. However, don’t you dare ever suggest that you should be allowed to ‘punish’ me for something that is completely beyond my control. I’m quite used to people bringing sex up on dates, normally they just want reassurance that I’m not going to turn around and say I cannot possibly do that. Which is fine, I am more than happy to have an open and frank discussion about it. What I cannot wrap my head around is that on a first date someone is willing to debate in a coffee shop the fact that I’m saying no you may not sexually punish me for being ill.

As you can imagine I made my excuses and left not long after it became apparent that he couldn’t see my view point.

I’m Not Sorry…

My blog post earlier in the week sparked conversation on social media which is something I love to see; it also got me thinking. When I inform a date/potential date that I’m ill, I almost always apologise. I don’t quite know why I say sorry. Perhaps it is because I know that I’m not exactly what you see, but who really is, or maybe it is an automatic reaction to help deal with the social awkwardness that I’m feeling and attempting to suppress. I am awful for stuttering out an apology whenever nerves take hold.

This is a quality of myself that I can control. A rather refreshing thought. So after a period of reflection I’ve decided I’m no longer going to apologise for my conditions. They are part of me, good and bad. If I can learn to see the humour in them, then others can too. That’s not to say I won’t profusely apologise if I spasm and hit someone, of course I will – then again I’ll also probably laugh.

I feel quite delighted with my decision. Taking another step, and embracing my alien just that bit more.

Rushing Out The Door…Dating Disaster Three

This took place about a month ago. I normally don’t get too nervous on dates; I don’t see the point in getting worked up over them. This was the exception to the rule. My nerves however were not because of the guy I was meeting, but due to the fact he did not know that I was ill. It was the first time I had agreed to a date without informing the guy beforehand that I am a walking talking accident waiting to happen.

12630849_828111473981300_1776683335_o

Ready for my date

We got off to a great start, sipping cocktails in my favourite bar. The conversation was flowing with ease, we laughed a lot and the odd pause was comfortable. Two hours in I found myself still unable to switch off to the fact he was unaware of my bodies failings. Several drinks later I finally worked up the courage to bring the topic to the table. My words were rushed as I stumbled over a brief synopsis of my conditions, my nerves reaching their peak.

His body language said it all, it was in complete contrast to his words. As I fumbled with my explanation he quickly went from leaning towards me holding my hand, to sitting bolt upright with his hands tightly folded in his lap. I pushed his posture from my mind, telling myself it was probably just due to the slightly uncomfortable nature of the wooden benches we were perched on. A ridiculous thought I know, but it was an easier one to deal with. He muttered a brief acceptance, waving his hands around, reassuring me that it didn’t matter what I had going wrong.

Minutes later, during the first awkward pause of the night, he downed the rest of his drink. Jumping up from the bench, offering to buy another round, he strode off before I could answer. I glanced down into my still half full cocktail, refusing to turn around and watch what I knew was taking place. I may be hopeless at dating but I’m not a fool. Knowing he was rushing out the door I didn’t want to humiliate myself by watching it slam behind him. This isn’t a common reaction, most pretend to be fine with it before cutting off contact, however this is not the first time its has happened. My options where quite obvious I could leave now and head home or I could finish my cocktail alone.

I love cocktails so naturally I stayed and finished it. It may have been an awful date, but hey, why waste a good drink.

Don’t Worry I Won’t Tell Anyone You’re Ill – Disaster Date 2

Everyone says things without thinking sometimes. Often its harmless, and its only afterwards when you are reviewing a conversation that you kick yourself in the teeth and hope it was not taken offensively. More often than not these things can be laughed off. This date happened the other week, and as I sat there attempting to get to know the man across from me, I found myself biting my lip more and more. Now I don’t mean this as a tongue in cheek Fifty Shades reference. It was a preventive measure to stop myself from reacting to several comments that were without thought.

For the first hour and a bit, I gave him numerous passes figuring that these careless remarks were down to nerves. I know from experience that I waffle nonsense when nervous so was prepared to ignore the niggling voice inside me telling me to leave. Eventually I decided to address one sentence that shocked me. ‘Looking at you no-one would know you’re ill, which is great. Don’t worry I would never tell anyone’. I’m sure many of you can imagine the numerous retorts that I had to bite back before answering. A large mouthful of G&T later I addressed this.

I started slowly pointing out that I don’t hide the fact I’m ill. I’ve never hidden this fact, I am not ashamed of the person I am, so I’m not going to start hiding parts of me now. This got me nowhere. So I attempted a different tactic, explaining that when my injections wear off my Dystonia is very much noticeable. Whilst in-between injection dates it is well-controlled, once the Botox loses it effect I have no control over the affected muscles. My explanation fell on deaf ears, all that he picked up on was that I had Botox on a regular basis, which left me defending this choice as he viewed it as a medicine for cosmetic purposes only.

It goes without saying that there will not be not a second date here. While it would have been nice not to have to justify my treatment, I view it as good practice for the next person who chooses not to listen to my explanations.

Young, Single & Disabled. . . So What?!

I’m extremely open about my disabilities, which is why I agreed to take part in an interview last Sunday with BBC Three Counties Shrink Wrapped. I had a great experience down at BBC Three Counties and you can check out the interview here http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p03gt2ql#play. Whilst I was more than happy to participate as they provided me with a fantastic outlet in which to advocate, I cannot help but feel that if I was not labelled by society then I would not be finding myself in a position where I need to explain myself and my relationship status.

12695785_835851056540675_1209977806_n.jpg

The first interview I participated in, several weeks ago, did not focus solely on my romantic encounters, they wished for my views on topics such as The Undateables, accessibility and more. This weekend’s interview however was entirely spotlighted on my romantic life. Whilst I was at the time more than happy to answer these questions and discuss the matter, I did not expect to find myself afterwards analyzing my position.

The more I contemplate over why I am still single, the more I came back to the same answer; who really knows why they are single? It is highly unlikely that a person is single for one specific reason whether disabled or not. I firmly believe that there is a reason for singledom other than ‘there is something fundamentally wrong with you’. Perhaps you’ve not met that right next significant other or a hundred other potential reasons. It is true that genetically I am a mixed bag and my brain is at best dysfunctional but despite all this I do not believe this to be the only clear cut reason that I remain single.

The labels of single and disabled along with my age thrown in for good measure seem to inflict panic in society. It would appear incomprehensible to some that I would remain single and not just settle for anyone accepting of my conditions. Whilst others view my marital status as a sad but unavoidable fact because let’s face it I’m not a genetic jackpot. Now I’m not denying that I would like to find that significant other, but at twenty-three I’m in no rush. So if I’m not panicking about it why must everyone else feel the need to do so? I ask you though would any of you be at all interested in this if I was able-bodied, would you simply tell me that I am young and not to worry?

We apply these labels and these associations to people without stopping to consider the implications they may have. There should not be an expectation upon them to simply accept them. Whilst I may have embraced mine to a degree, I took it apart, examined it and used it as a way to advocate for myself and others with the same chronic conditions. The people applying these labels are not taking every aspect of the person’s life into consideration. They simply see a problem and apply an appropriate term, a way of enabling them to cope is the only way I can explain this. What they fail to see is the normal factors that contribute to that labelled personality. If they looked closer at me for example, they would see the mirid of dates I have been on in the last few months, or my interactions on a night out. I am in that respect in the same league as all of my able-bodied friends.

So if you don’t mind I’ll take your labels and carry on ignoring them. For now, I’m going to enjoy singledom. After all something great is worth waiting for.

Disaster Date 1

As anyone who checked out my latest VLOG will know, after a highly entertaining bus ride the other week with a fellow spoonie I have decided to blog more openly about the dates I have been on. Up until now I have kept them to myself purely because they didn’t go anywhere, however as this lovely girl pointed out to me, it’s the sort of the thing she would like to read. So I’ve decided to do a couple of blogs retelling these dates – the guy’s names and locations have been changed!

Just before Christmas a guy I’d met a handful of times in the local clubs and around uni asked me for a drink. Thomas knew I was ill, so in my eyes we had already passed the first hurdle. There was going to be no need for an awkward ‘so by the way I have a severely dysfunctional body, you cool with that?’, conversation followed by spluttering and murmured excuses into half-drunk cocktails. I was feeling far more relaxed than I usually would do, simply because I didn’t feel like I had the ‘disability burden’ to get out there.

It was the usual routine, pull every outfit I deemed to be flattering enough to wear on a date from my wardrobe, and then force my friends to pick the winner. It’s a wonder they put up with me really. Whilst I was spending so much time on my appearance, I did not stop to think about strapping down my left arm. The spasms in this arm have been the death blow to so many dates but I still don’t learn. After all, it just isn’t the most attractive look. If I had thought about how twitchy I had been that day I would have seen the disaster in my plan.

The start of the date was fantastic; we were sat across from each other in an adorable cocktail bar with scented candles everywhere. The conversation was flowing with pauses only for laughter. We seemed to connect, and after several more drinks decided to go for a walk. Tom was a gentleman and held the door open for me, as I turned around to thank him and make a joke I twitched. I don’t mean a little twitch either, it was the sort that leaves you feeling bruised. In typical fashion I caught him in the neck. If anything is going to kill the mood on a date, it’s that.

At the time I felt awful. I spent a good ten minutes apologizing before we decided to call it a night. As you can imagine we’ve not spoken since, I wonder what put him off?! Luckily I can see the humor in these situations as they happen far too often.

Turning The Page

The other month I posted a blog on disabled dating. I finally admitted to you all that I had been approached by the Undateables TV show. Being asked to appear on this show knocked my confidence. I felt as if this was perhaps the only way I would be able to meet anybody; that just maybe this was all I was worth. This show is great for some people, I understand that, but for me it was an insult.

Shortly after this I went on a date with a guy who turned out to be a complete sleezebag, and that’s putting it politely. These two incidents combined completely set my confidence back. I felt as if dating was completely out the window, that I really was undateable. Part of me wondered if maybe I was just someone people looked at with repulsion. After all, if I struggle to stay calm with my misbehaving limbs, how could anyone tolerate them or find me attractive?

At the start of May I met my boyfriend Alex, in the local pub. I cannot put into words the satisfaction and joy I feel at having met him in such a normal way. At first I expected listing my many conditions to him would cause him to go running to the hills. Imagine my surprise when he actually knew what some of them were, and better yet, didn’t mind when my arm went flying out violently to the side. He is patient and understanding, and doesn’t mind which of my different aids I’m using to get about that day. What is best is that he allows me to feel normal, not a feeling I’m used to but one that I love. I feel like a normal 22 year old. I don’t think I could ask for more!

So I’m closing the chapter on the Undateables, forgiving them and moving on. I’ve got a brand new wave of confidence and it’s time to write a new page.

FB_IMG_1434539425637

Tag Cloud