The power of despair

There was a lot of things running through my head there, in those moments. Sadness, rage, feeling of crying and shouting, despair, but above all, helplessness. I felt such immeasurable helplessness there in my wheelchair, wearing my long, blue summer dress, that I couldn’t find words for it. I didn’t let Sandor help me, what’s more, I pushed him out of the way with a hint of anger. I wasn’t angry with him or the world, I was angry with the situation and, perhaps, myself.
I had to pee for the umpteenth occasion that day. I had had enough of being in need for help in order to do so in the last one and a half years. Always paying attention to have someone around to help, who has spare time, or the necessity of planning ahead before my programs. Besides a million other things on my mind, also paying attention that despite any helpful intent or love, not to push the other person to his limits. Let’s admit I hadn’t been successful all the time. Not on that day either.
It was somewhat around noon, past the usual morning routine: out of bed, to the bathroom, bathing, lifting, changing, lifting again to the chair, some finishing touches to make me sit right, after another long night. I simply wasn’t sitting right though even after the final touches. I’m not a dumb b*tch fussy about everything but I just couldn’t find the right spot. Knowing I was going to sit in the same position for hours, I just asked and asked and Sankó tired and tired and we got to the point I stopped asking. And didn’t mention that I still had to pee very badly. He would’ve helped of course, no questions asked, just like a good parent would’ve got up for the hundredth time if his child had been crying or asking for something, but admittedly slower and more exhausted. I would’ve liked to “husband” Sankó’s resources and gain my independence back.
Anyone who’s read my book, Te döntesz (Choice is Yours), was happy for me when I went to the cripple bathroom of one the restaurants alone for the first time in twenty-three years, thanks to the combination of a festival pee-device and an idea of a great Mom. What a profound happiness and freedom it was, remember? I had enjoyed its advantages and with it, a life without boundaries for years. I did not have to pull myself back at drinking, plan ahead, hold it in, cramp on it. Then I lost this freedom because I got a new — and I thought worse — wheelchair. Due to moving and a narrower space and above all my placing of legs, or should I say my not-any-more-crossed legs, this little pleasure of life crapped out. At first, I wasn’t even that disturbed by the loss, doing it was a ton of fun with Sankó, but then a sudden burst of realization struck me. I want to do it alone! With the realization came the excuses (?), or the aggravating conditions, that I could’ve simply resolved but creativity here or there, I could not find a way to lift my knuckles or spread my legs, especially when gravity has never been a friend of mine, and I got my share of troubles with lifting anything. What’s more, I can’t move my legs while sitting so it’s a challenge to use the festival pee-device.
I was monitoring for opportunities at home, how I would be able to lift it alone, and using what. My determination, in a situation filled with anger and sadness, prompted me not to give up the brainstorm until I find a way. I found myself in a strange dimension. The dimension of determination, where I used the energy of hopelessness, helplessness and sorrow to find a solution. I denied Sandor’s offer to help with a definitive no and I was thinking only about the hows, and at the same time I was fighting with the little devil on my shoulder who chanted excuses in my ears. Then I decided: Silence! I’ll do it.
I could host a comedy evening with the best of the attempts I made: I used the corner of the couch, the legs of the rocking chair, my shepherd’s pipe. No dirty thoughts please with this latter, it is a flute-like musical instrument, I was using its stiffness to push it in… uh, okay, I guess it’s better to move onto the next of the “success stories” to finally get to the real one. Because the power of despair hides potential ways of solving the problem. I reached out for a duct tape and I did not exclude the possibility of either my arm-extender or a shoehorn. Finally, I found a rope. To be more exact a pink ribbon the original purpose of which is to serve as an accessory to dresses however I had been using it as a seatbelt for years, to be honest. Let’s have style ladies, even if you do pee in the middle of your living rooms! Though, let’s be honest, as long as it served its cause, it could’ve been crap-green as well for all I cared, this one was only the thing I got my hands on first.
I have a training wall that our beloved guests often call the sado-maso wall but I always remind them just to be clear that I use it way more often for training than for you know what… :)
The ray of hope shined on me when I mentally combined this and the pink ribbon. Using my arm-extender I attached my ribbon to the wall-bar-like metal casting to secure it at one point, then I tied its hanging part to my knees and, perhaps with a little exaggeration, I backed up with my wheelchair at full speed — my legs were in the air — and with a gracious left turn I was sitting very satisfied with my legs wild open. I did it! My determination suddenly turned into such joy that may only be described by those who has experienced not giving up on a task and then succeeded.
Things that took place near the device nicknamed the sado-maso wall while my legs were spread, maybe doesn’t even matter now. The most important thing is to become conscious of this:
Using the power of despair, you have the potential to find a way to the solution.
P.s.: I love that he is proud of me and how he inspires me to fight the next “obstacle”.
