One Whole Quarter

Well, I made it. A week of orientation, ten weeks of classes, a week of break, and a week of finals later, and still no one at Stanford knows that I have a brachial plexus injury. Let me be clear that I did not go into my college career intending to keep this a secret. I didn't even realize until about halfway through that it had never come up. Until week nine, I didn't even have to deflect questions in order to finish the quarter without explaining myself. I will admit that in the last couple weeks I purposely avoided giving direct answers in a couple situations where I easily could have shared my story. I shrugged off a friend who noticed the reminder on my phone to do my arm workout, and I ran away from a de-stressing massage workshop in my dorm when it came time to work on arms. I didn't even respond in these ways solely for the purpose of this blog post or my own sense of some form of accomplishment, but after living with people for nine weeks, it seemed strange to spring this on them all of a sudden. I think it is often more awkward explaining BPI to someone who you've known for a while. There is too much guilt and confusion on both sides (Me: "I'm sorry you don't know. I haven't told you?" Them: "How do I not know this? I'm sorry I never noticed..."). Explaining your injury to someone you only recently met is somehow a less daunting task.

Now, don't worry, I do not plan on spending the next four years pretending I don't have a brachial plexus injury. This quarter has been tough enough. What started as a sort of freeing experience turned into a barrier between friends. I found myself constantly worrying that situations would come up where I wouldn't be able to avoid the questions. I felt trapped. I didn't want to tell anyone, but I wanted everyone to know. On the one hand, I do wish I had explained my BPI right off the bat, but on the other hand, there was never a convenient opportunity until it felt like it was weirdly too late into my relationships to be having this discussion. I'd love to hear anyone's thoughts on how I handled this situation. Tell me your advice or parallel stories in the comments box in the right-hand column!

For now, I will tell you my solution. In my dorm, we have been doing what people at Stanford call "spotlight." It's basically an opportunity for someone to tell their life story. Every week, a few people volunteer to do it at a certain time, and anyone in the dorm who has the time can come and just listen to them tell anything and everything they want about their life that may explain who they are today. I plan to volunteer next quarter, and I will share my BPI story within my "spotlight." In my mind, a more formal setting like that will make it less weird for me to be sharing it. I can no longer give the excuse that there was no opportunity for me to explain, and it won't be in a direct conversation with a friend that could get awkward. Also this way, everyone will find out at once. I won't have to try and keep track of who I've told and who still doesn't know. Word will get around and the deed will be done in a ripping-off-the-band-aid like strategy. I'll make sure to let you know how that goes :)

The Jessica Williams Way

A couple of weeks ago I attended a talk by Jessica Williams, a correspondent on the Daily Show. It was a lot of comedy, but she also got serious when bringing up issues like racism and sexism about which she is passionate. She told anecdotes and jokes and recited history and facts, but ultimately it came down to one theme: it's okay to be angry and sad about things going on in the world or in your life, but you can't just "sit" on it; you have to do something about it. She brought this up in the context of how she, as a black female comedian, uses comedy to express her passion regarding issues that affect her as well as the rest of us. 

This was an important message to me. I think all of us who've dealt with BPI can recall a time when we were angry or sad about our limitations or the ways in which we are different from others. And I think it's a choice we have to make whether or not we let that anger and sadness seep into us and take control of our lives. It's neither an easy choice nor a conscious one if we don't recognize it. This blog is an example of how I've chosen to do something about these feelings instead. That doesn't mean that I don't wake up angry or sad every now and then, or that I can conquer it every time I do. But often I find ways to redirect those emotions.  Like I said last time, it's easy to fall into helplessness, but we have to choose a different path. We were dealt brachial plexus injuries and now it's up to us what we do with them. I choose the Jessica Williams way. 

My Presentation Dictates Your Perception

Helplessness is one of the feelings that can be most closely linked to brachial plexus injuries. I have spent much of my life needing to depend on others for physical support due to my shoulder. There are some things I literally cannot do, some things I am powerless to change. It's easy to get stuck on that helplessness, to get stuck in the cycle of "I can't do this and I can't do that," "I can't change anything," "I'm never going to live a normal life," etc. It's easy to forget that there's a lot we can control.

One of those major aspects is how we present our injuries and our attitudes about them. If someone notices my shoulder isn't quite like my other one, and I get really uncomfortable or nervous, the person will perceive it as this big deal, a taboo topic that creates tension in a relationship. If I own it, then they have no choice then to be like "oh wow okay" and move on. In just presenting my attitude as confident, they understand that my BPI is a piece of me but that it does not define me, that it's okay for them to ask questions, but also that because it is a piece of me, they cannot make fun of it just as they wouldn't make fun of someone's acne or crooked teeth.

I know it's easier said than done and by no means have I always been able to do this. It was a long journey to find the confidence I have in my injury and generally in myself, but I'm not sure I could ever define for you which one led to the other. They are equally entwined; I just hope that this revelation I've had may remind you to be comfortable with your shoulder, and in turn yourself.

The point is that we are not helpless. How you present your injury dictates how that person perceives it. It's important to realize that you are often in charge of how big of a deal your brachial plexus injury is in your life. Maybe you will never be able to reach the top shelf with your left arm, but you are responsible for the way in which people react to watching you try.

Typing and Biking

Two things that I've done for a long time, but two things I've never done as much as I do in college. Two things that are simple actions we learn as little kids, but two things that aren't so easy with BPI.

I never noticed that I bike/type differently until coming here and doing it in front of my peers every day. I get a little self conscious about my uneven hands when I type out notes in physics lecture or when I'm biking back from the gym leaning a little to my left side with my arm bent while my right one's straight to rest my hands on the handlebars. 

A new place brings new activities, new routines, and new discoveries. I'm trying to teach myself to use my hands equally on the keyboard, and I straighten up when I catch myself leaning on my bike. The knowledge that I'm surrounded by new people upon which I'm trying to make a good impression makes me a bit more conscious of these little things. 

Week 7 and the only person who knows anything about my shoulder is my yoga teacher. I'm starting to wonder if people notice but just aren't saying anything. In fact, I know they do, and I'm starting to hope the opportunity arises for me to explain because I don't want people wondering what's wrong with me. I know I could speak up but this is still an interesting experiment.

I can't tell if I'm happy or not that it hasn't come up yet. Should I be proud that my BPI isn't noticeable, or sad that still no one feels comfortable enough to ask? For now, I'm still happy for myself, but I'll keep you updated.

It's funny that throughout my life, I've had to give an explanation at many different points in relationships. Some people found out the first day they met me while others didn't know for months. I'm enjoying this unexpected experiment :)

Hi again!

I'm back! Sorry for the too-long break. I promise I have not forgotten about this and was in fact taking the time off to come up with new ideas not only for this blog, but also for other ways in which I can make an impact on the BPI community. More to come on that soon hopefully.

Well I am officially a college student. It is the end of my first week of classes, the end of my second week living away from home and in an entirely new place. Before leaving, all anyone said is how excited they were for me and how the next four years will be the best of my life. I will meet my best friends and make my best memories and have such interesting classes, etc. Now obviously I believe that all to be true, but I think it's kinda funny that everyone neglects to remember or mention what the beginning is like. Because it's incredibly weird. You're all excited to get to college and you have all these big expectations in your head about how amazing your life is going to be now that you're living away from your parents and you're surrounded by cool people and great opportunities... And then you have the same conversation over and over with every new person you meet.

"what's your name?"
"where are you from?"
"what dorm are you in?"
"what classes are you taking?"
"what do you want to major in?"


You become this weird version of yourself where you're not yet ready to be as weird or sarcastic as you truly are with these total strangers. You're meeting all these new people but no one's really being themselves so you start to question the point. You lose yourself a little bit and feel overwhelmed by the lack of familiar faces, familiar routine, a familiar place. It's all so uncomfortable.

Now that's not to say I haven't been having a great time. Not to say I haven't met amazing people or I haven't been really weird or sarcastic sometimes. Not to say I haven't been happy or excited or really interested in my classes. I just think it's extremely strange that when you talk to people about going to college, no one warns you about that first week. No one warns you that you won't be yourself that first week. No one reassures you that it won't be hard to find her again, nor will it take long.

Testament to this strange beginning is the funny fact that somehow my brachial plexus injury has yet to come up with anyone here. I realized the other day that literally no one here knows about it. I haven't purposely avoided talking about it, I just haven't been forced to mention it yet. Though the real Lise has definitely risen to the surface based on my new friends' comments on my sarcasm, a piece of me is accidentally and unnecessarily hidden away still. I'll keep you updated on how and when it ends up coming up.

I'm happy to be back and ready to get messages about anyone's summer or about exciting news or just a hello! Can't wait to hear from you guys again :)

Chiropractor

A new method that I've found can be useful! BPI can throw your back out of line so the chiropractor can be helpful to prevent and fix that with adjustments. It's not scary. Just a bunch of back cracks that make you feel good I promise. Try it out and tell me about your experience!

Defensive

Ironically, talking about improving my injury is never fun. I've only recently noticed my immediate defensiveness, though I'm sure I've done it for much of my life. Whether it's a comment from my mother, a friend, or a stranger, I resent it. I shut down. It could be a new exercise, a new surgery, a new doctor, a new form of medical attention, it doesn't matter; I don't want to hear it. Of all things, this is what I should want to hear, right?? How do I make this annoying thing better?? But no. Let's see if I can explain this considering I don't fully understand it myself. And let me warn you that it's not all entirely logical.

First, I don't want to talk about how to make it better, because I don't want to even have this thing that I have to make better in the first place (First sign of lack of logic: don't we all have things to make better?). 99% of people I know have two fully functional arms that they never have to worry about. Why do I have to worry? Why can't I just deal with it. This brings me to the second aspect of my defensiveness. I'm used to my arm the way it is. I have spent nearly 18 years getting used to it, compensating for it, learning how to work around it. I'm doing just fine, so why should I have to try and fix it? (Well, Lise, because it could be more than "fine" and also because you ignoring it will probably make your future painful and uncomfortable...). Ultimately, change is scary and I don't like being told how I need to be fixed. Wasn't I born this way and aren't I doing all right? To those who try to talk to me about improvement: I apologize, but I hope this helps clear up my seemingly illogical response a little. And I do understand and apologize for its remaining holes in logic. I'm pretty much giving into emotions during these conversations, and those are always entirely illogical so it shouldn't be too surprising.