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You’re not going to break me

“I was afraid I might break you.”

Ha. I’m afraid I might break me. I’m 7 years, 43 nerve blocks and 3 spine surgeries into this rare disease diagnosis.

But it wasn’t the first time that I’ve heard that phrase or one just like it.

I might have mentioned it before. Friends have been afraid to hug me, afraid what might happen.

This was the first time being, well, in my situation was the reason someone had been afraid to kiss me. (Dear lord, I hope my mom doesn’t read this post…and if you are reading, mom, maybe you should skip this post). At the very least, it was the first time someone told me they were afraid. And that it had stopped them from acting on a feeling.

You're not going to break me

Doubt, not fragility

I might write about being worried that I’m not strong enough. But I dance. I can stand on my toes. I can handle pain that would crush most people. My body isn’t going to fall to pieces because it was touched.

No, my body isn’t that kind of fragile. I’ve learned what it can (and can’t) do.

Sure, it has limits, but whose body doesn’t? He wasn’t referring to my heart, genuinely worried that I could be an active participant. He was worried that I would be ok.

I guess this is my way of saying please don’t be afraid. A disability or a rare disease doesn’t make a person crumble at a touch.

I might just tremble with relief that you tried.

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