I Was Never Happy Enough For Myself
But I Tried Anyway
But I Tried Anyway
How It Started
When I was born, the doctors didn’t know what to make of me. I was a boy, of course, but something else didn’t seem right. Most humans are born with thy bones, femurs, that connect to a hip socket through ligaments and tendons. These parts hold your thy in place so you can move, walk, and run. However, something didn’t work correctly regarding my final development. My thy bones stopped growing as they reached the ball and socket. Instead, the bone just…stopped.
There was no ball on the femur on either leg. Shocked, the doctors looked frantically into medical journals to decide what had happened. A rare condition called Upper Proximal Femoral Focal Deficiency was buried in a medical book that matched my situation. Typically, it only affected one leg, which was amputated soon after birth for most babies. But for both legs, which was rare, my mom hesitated. Sure, I would never be able to walk, but the doctors pushed for removal, but my mother stood firm and refused.
Two years later, I would eventually take my first steps.
When we are children, most of us are around the same height. Some children might be an inch or two taller, but generally, four and five-year-olds are the same when reaching the counter or opening doors. As we grow, however, most of our height is from our legs. So, the gap began to grow between my peers and me. While their thy bones extended to over a foot long, mine remained where they were, about four inches long.
I remember standing next to my friends in first grade. Our heads could be separated by only 2 or 3 inches while not at the same height precisely. By fifth grade, however, the gap widened to nearly a foot. Now it was apparent that something would never be the same for me. Would I ever be able to ride a bike? No. Can I run a race? No. My legs, short and nearly always bent in the squatting position, would be unable to move at that same speed. If you want to know what it’s like to be me, squat and spend your whole day in that position.
The Spiral
By puberty, everything was out of control. Some girls just refused to date guys shorter than them. Personal preference. “Not your fault, of course, but I don’t date guys shorter than me.”
I had crushes and wrote letters back and forth like the other guys my age, but no dating.
I was determined to be as normal as possible when we entered high school. So I joined the marching band as my oldest brother had. He dated while playing Tuba, and I thought I could too, but since I was too short and too small, I joined the most extraordinary group around; the drumline. Playing cymbals. Super cool, right?
While I certainly had my struggles keeping up physically, I did well. I marched each halftime show, played drums in the jazz band, sang in the church choir, and was in the musical theater production every year, all at 4’4”. I was as busy and popular as possible, but I thought something wasn’t right. I watched TV, saw parties for high school kids, and then asked about those parties at school. I thought these parties weren’t happening and it was all Hollywood nonsense. The joke was on me, however, as my friends did attend high school parties, but I was never invited.
I only asked why I wasn’t invited once during those four years. My best friend since the first grade was a Cambodian kid named Sidano, but we called him Sid. I found out from my brother that Sid attended a party that my brother attended. When asked why I was never invited, Sid shrugged and stared into the other side of the room, mindlessly ignoring the question.
Four homecomings came and went, as did senior prom, never once did I have a girlfriend or an actual date.
The worst part about regret is you constantly doubt yourself and your decisions, even if you didn’t have the decision to start. Could I have invited myself to parties? Maybe, but no one told me when or where they happened. Could I have asked more girls out? Maybe, but I thought I was asking everyone interested. I regretted everything at only 18 years old.
At the end of high school, I was awarded for being short and doing everyday things. The school called them “Best Attitude” and the “Lion Award.” Some disabled kids got those yearly; my senior year was no different. I can imagine what the other parents in the audience were thinking. “Oh, look at that kid. What a trooper.” Only to be quip, “Glad my son isn’t like him. Must be rough.” Yeah… It is!
It’s hell some days. I couldn’t play the instrument I wanted because it was too heavy. I couldn’t ask the girls out I wanted because no one wants to date a disabled kid. I couldn’t run races, ride a bike, or reach the damn top shelf in my house without a chair to stand on. But I tried.
When I say I tried, I don’t mean I sat there and lived my life. I mean that I tried every single day. After 18 years of constantly feeling like an outcast, I wanted to fit in so badly. I ran as fast as I could for as long as possible. I stood on every chair to play every instrument I could find. I joined every club, sang every song, and attended every dance I could. Had my parents not always been one argument away from divorce, they could have noticed the depression washing over me, but they didn’t.
Nothing I could say or do would grow six inches in two femurs, and no surgery, to this day, is available to repair them. So, believe me when I say that I worked my ass off.
The Way Out
In my mind, I had two ways out. Death or Life. It’s really that easy. If you want to move forward, you can, but you better set yourself up for success. No one wants to live a miserable life, and I wasn’t about to allow the first 18 years of life to decide what my next 60 would be.
I found peace with what had happened through Taoism. Not immediately after 18, of course, but I felt something more calling me through the years. I fell out of faith in Christianity but felt pulled towards an old symbol I loved as a child; the yin-yang.
Through reading and a few courses with a great Taoist teacher, I discovered that trying to make myself something I’m not was part of the problem. I am who I am, and nothing can change that. If you want to be a singer, then be a singer. If you want to be a customer support manager, go be a customer support manager. Accomplish the steps you need to take, and then stop.
Taoism teaches us to live in balance with nature and not struggle against it. This doesn’t mean you can’t defend yourself or others. It means you don’t force your will upon situations you can’t control. I tried to push what I wanted for 18 years and felt every rejection deeply. But my life turned around when I stopped forcing and started listening instead.
By 20, I had my first girlfriend; by 25, I had my first child with my future wife, whom I married at 28. I’ll turn 41 this year and have a somewhat successful career (whatever that is), and I have begun my writing journey.
How It’s Going
I know life can’t be sunshine and rainbows all the time. It won’t be happiness and joy; trying always to be happy would be misery. Allowing yourself to be mad, sad, depressed, and anxious is as much a part of you as being calm, comfortable, and excited. But, as it is the yin and the yang, you can’t have one without the other. You must know sadness to know happiness.
In my youth, I was always running from sadness. Whether my parents, church, or friends caused it, it didn’t matter. I ran from any dark corner into the light, only to find myself back in another dark corner. But when I closed my eyes and looked into the darkness, I saw the light and joy instead of emptiness and night!
If you’re struggling and if you need someone to talk to, please reach out to me here on Mastodon: patrickstewart@universedon.com
Remember, it can’t rain all the time.
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