Ever since I was young, I’ve always loved kisses, hugs and wrestling with my brother. That was one of the biggest ways for us to bond, being physical with each other. He wasn’t going to be the one to reach out for a hug or push me over, then again, he was always good at that. Even before his disability he would carry me around the house and sit me on riding toys, make me play with toys or just have me as his little doll. He had me until the day that I had him. It was pure role reversal.
I was always the quiet one who would sit and look around not saying a word. This can still be true, but happens so seldom, that people don’t usually believe it. He was the out going and social one. He had tons of energy. Once he acquired his disability, he went quiet. He couldn’t talk and was less active due to his brain damage. He was active in a different way for sure. I became overly active, talkative and mischievous. My body now had to find ways to connect with my brother as we shared a different type of relationship. Sorry, that was purely a separate thought.
Growing up, I’d been reminded that my body is not my own. I was also told a lot of different things about my body. First one was “Fat.” That bothered me from about ten to twelve years old. I had had a major growth spurt and was changing into a young adult body. Once I realized that to be true, I thanked my grandma for the heads up, but that I already knew.
The next was that I was “big.” “Big what?” I ask. Big personality? Yes, definitely. Big mouth? Absolutely! Big…? Yea probably. But I could take you in a fight, so I don’t think you should argue with me over this?!
The next was beautiful. That came from me. It came from others, but wasn’t believed until it came from me. I had always celebrated what my body was put on the earth for, but those years when you can’t get away from people; because they’re family or school peers or your own thoughts twisted by others views. I think my final stages of beauty was me seeing what people like my brother saw in me.
My body is not my own. It belongs to me, but (I feel) is meant to be shared with those you chose to share it with. I don’t mean in a sexual way necessarily. I mean in what ever way you want. Cuddling, hugs, sitting beside someone you like, kneeling to play, running a marathon, dancing or just to inspire yourself and others. Just remember, this body is only on loan. To be continued….