Don’t Pity Me

Pity is a heavy and sad thing. Often, it is the first feeling evoked in those who seem "more fortunate" when meeting someone like myself. I have become somewhat accustomed to seeing sad eyes meeting mine after people look at my prosthesis. If only they knew how much "less fortunate" I feel each time their pity shows up to haunt me. Like a scary reminder that I am someone people feel sorry for.

I learned pretty quickly into my amputation recovery that strangers feel shockingly comfortable letting sheer horror come across their faces and even asking "what happened to you?" in the most inappropriate way possible. I was hit with pity from kind people too. I know they didn't mean to hurt me, and I know they probably felt what happened to me was unfair because it was, but I certainly don't need to be reminded of it. I realize that not everyone has first-hand experience being on the receiving end of pity, dished out to them regularly like a scoop of mashed potatoes in a buffet line, so I am sharing what it's like in the hopes that you may expand your mind and find empathy instead.

Yes, I have become stronger because of it all and I have been forced to gain some confidence to lift some of the weight thrown on me in the form of pity, but I have enough to fight for without it. As humans, working towards a world with more equality, we can all do better. If you see someone who is struggling or looks like they should be, look them in the eyes the way you would want someone to look at you. Value them the way you would want to be valued and when appropriate, offer a helping hand. Treat people with respect and stop and think before you speak. There is no need to pity me because I still shine bright. I live a full life with laughter and accomplishments. I have love, friendship, and purpose in my life. Sure, it takes me a bit longer to be able to take my first step out of bed in the morning, and I require quarterly doctor's visits, scans, and adjustments to my prosthetic socket. But I do have happiness and the ability to speak up in the moments when I need help finding my way back to it.

Less pity-more high fives