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 :)