There’s an argument to be made that I
probably think about stuff too much. That’s not a bad thing, and it isn’t even
all that problematic in my life. Thinking about things never keeps me from
taking action when necessary. I’ve always been able to let my pragmatism take
over long before I could be derailed by any of my many neuroses. But some of
the stuff I think about doesn’t really deserve the attention that I give it.
I’d be much better off tackling more substantive issues in my personal life than
wasting my time with things I cannot change. And some of the things I think
about are complete hypotheticals (a.k.a, exercises in futility). Thinking about
them never results in any real benefit on my part. They don’t let me understand
myself or the world around me any better. They don’t help me express whatever
emotions I’m struggling with. They just occupy my brain at times when nothing
else is filling the void.
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| Beetlejuice-Themed Wedding? Nah. Theme Weddings Suck |
Most of these hypotheticals stem from a single, straightforward question: What if I hadn’t broken
my neck? That’s obviously a huge question to consider all by itself, and that’s
why I never really consider it as a whole. It just seems pointless. I mean,
where do you even start? I actually find it much easier, and even a little more
fun, to break that question up into a million separate questions that concern
the different aspects of my life. These questions include: Would I be married?
Would I have kids? Where would I live? How would I live? Would I be successful?
Would I be happy? I certainly have answers to all of these questions now in my
current life as a quadriplegic. I’ve done all of that work over the years, and
I know exactly who I am as both a quadriplegic and a man. But how would things
have played out if I hadn’t broken my neck? That’s a question I have no real
answer for, and that’s part of what makes it so damn intriguing.
I think another part
of my intrigue with these hypotheticals concerns trying to evaluate and better
understand the profound impact that a spinal cord injury (SCI) has on someone.
There’s no doubt in my mind that my injury fundamentally changed who I
ultimately became as an adult. There were several experiences in my youth that
had a part in laying the foundation for who I am today. These are things like
my time in athletics, which had a deep impact on my attitude and work ethic,
and the many disappointments I had with my father growing up. But quadriplegia
completely reshaped most, if not all, of my worldview and personal philosophies
to varying degrees. I had to alter my expectations in life and entirely
redefine words like happiness, success and adversity in the years following my
SCI. That’s a lot of retconning for a stupid, drunken fuck-up in college.
But of all the
hypotheticals I’ve thought about over the years, the one I keep coming back to
time and time again concerns relationships. The reason this one has such a firm
grasp on my attention is because I’ve always had a fairly strange relationship
with relationships. That’s to say, at no point in my life have I ever placed a
high value on them or had a really strong interest in them, and I don’t understand
why that’s the case. I’ve never struggled with the usual culprits that keep
people single and socially isolated, like self-confidence or social awkwardness.
Sure, my identity floundered for a bit in the wake of my SCI, but once I found
my footing in college, I’ve never had to look back. I’ve also never once had to
assimilate in order to make friends or feel comfortable in my environment, and
I’ve spent a lifetime enjoying relatively niche interests.
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| The Legend of Jason Voorhees Lives On |
The other thing
about all this that slightly disturbs me is that I know the huge role that
relationships play in life. I can readily acknowledge, and I truly believe,
that the secret sauce to this hamburger we call life is the shared experience.
Everything we do in life either lives or dies based on our ability to share it
with someone else. We can do this post-experience via story, or we can do it
together with someone in real-time. While the latter will undoubtably create a
deeper connection, and arguably a more vivid memory, both methods are still
effective nonetheless. And while I know all this to be true, it’s never once
caused me to pursue relationships with much zeal or effort.
All this leaves me
wondering: Why? Is it as simple as never meeting the right person, or do my
issues run deeper than that?
It’s easy to think
that my injury is to blame for all my relationship woes, and I’d otherwise be
with a woman if things were different. I’d actually really like to be
true. There are, after all, several issues that stem from my injury and impede my
ability to cultivate relationships with others. First of all, I swim in a
relatively shallow social pool. I don’t have coworkers or exposure to other
common social settings. But I’m also unable to gain access to other homes, and
everyone I know must now come to me in order to visit. That’s a tough demand to
make, especially in the world full of other tough demands. I’ve also
deliberately put up some walls since I broke my neck so as to never appear sad
or angry about my circumstances. And for better or worse, those walls don’t
come down easily. I even harbor some serious resentment towards relationship
because my injury has now thrust them upon me and made them vital to my health.
But everyone wants
to think that things in their life would be a lot better had that one bad thing
never occurred. I mean, you don’t have to be a quadriplegic to wrestle with
regrets and spend time second-guessing past decisions. It’s easy to think that
all your problems and all your setbacks stem from a single event in your past.
That one thought is quick, clean and convenient in many ways. By pinning all of
your hardships on an event, you also sort of absolve yourself of responsibility
for how things ultimately turned out. It wasn’t really your fault, you just got
fucked by life. Suffering a SCI is no different. While it’s probably natural to
have these thoughts, I know that in my case this argument is bullshit. Not only
was I directly responsible for my SCI, but I’m also responsible for any lack of
relationships in my life. To point my finger elsewhere would be a lie.
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| Quadriplegia Probably Kept Me From Having Elvira, Though |
When I consider
everything objectively, I realize I haven’t been touched with any ounce of
affection in at least 15 years. While that’s a sizable chapter in anyone’s life, I'm by no means alone. Plenty of people find themselves in a similar situation. What seems strange to
me about my situation is that there’s still no part of me that consistently
craves such contact. I don’t get that. Intimacy seems so fundamental to life,
and yet I’m somehow perfectly comfortable living without it. I certainly have
weeks when such pleasures feel necessary, and I try to pursue some feminine
interactions in those times. But it doesn’t take long before I tire, lose interest
and move on. While there’s an argument to be made that I don’t know what I don’t
know, and I can’t miss what I’ve never had, I worry sometimes that I’m somehow pathologically
defective. Is it possible for someone to be deficient in the thing that makes people yearn to be loved?
I suppose that’s
another question I’ll never have an answer for. I might just be a big fucking asshole for
all I know. And some days, that seems as probable as anything.
– King Cripple
