Accepted

Self acceptance is a strange thing. It's an elusive ideal, that you can: believe you have, want to have or pretend to have. Yet, it's not until you've really discovered it that you realize what you've you never had.... I always felt that I accepted myself, but in recent months, I realized that I haven't. 31 years old and I'm just learning to accept myself.

OI was this gorilla on my back. I tried for years to carry it effortlessly, and succeeded. If I pretended it wasn't there than it wasn't. But that lack of acknowledgement, became a sense of denial.

Sure I loved my "parlor tricks." I have double-jointed fingers, I broke 92 bones (yes, I got an extra one over the summer!!) and have been been broken apart and put back together more times than I can count. I love my scar stories. I tell them and love the responses they illicit. In that respect I hold my OI in high esteem. However, I never wanted that "stigma" of having OI.

I just started referring to myself as a "little person." I've accepted that this is a characteristic, and not an all-encompassing definition of me.

I've accepted that I will be a PA and still have OI. I will be a mother that's the same size as my child. I will be a wife who happens to have seizures. I have to be able to incorporate, and these own these characteristics just another adjective.  I would never deny being black or being female. Why are all my medical adjectives, so hard for me own?

My love life has been at a standstill, and I've seen great relationships fall apart ...

Maybe the the old adage is true - Who will love you if you don't love yourself.

My confidence is finally matched with my own acceptance.