100 Out of 100 Times

Dear readers,

This week, I returned to work after over a week off. I spent that entire week in the company of my boyfriend as we travelled to Slovenia, had a wonderful few days in Ljubljana, and returned home to Glasgow for a relaxing weekend in the sunshine. We had a fantastic time together, and it got me reflecting on our 8-year long relationship. In particular, I wanted to write about how we function as a couple when one of us is disabled and the other is not; how we came to terms with my diagnoses, what changed when I suddenly became ill in my teens, and how we continue to work things out.

The title of this post comes from a reference to a Dr Phil interview, wherein Dr Phil told a couple on his show that inter-abled relationships “won’t work; 100 out of 100 times it won’t work.”

My boyfriend and I met in secondary school, a few years before I became ill. We were only about 13 years old, and spent the next few years dating other people, flirting, and pretending that we didn’t really like each other. Then, one night at a friend’s Halloween party, a game of Spin the Bottle revealed to all our friends- as it so often does- the extent of our feelings towards one another. We started dating in November 2010, at just 16. Unfortunately, it was around that same time that things began to get really bad in terms of my physical health (you can check out my very first post, Into the Maelstrom, for more details.)

Within a few months, I changed from being a chatty, fairly active girl to a reclusive mess. I still did well at school, so none of our teachers noticed, but I was struggling. Struggling to balance school work and hospital appointments. Struggling to stay awake. Struggling with the devastating fear that I might wake up one morning and not be able to walk again. Basic physical activities became more difficult, and I spent a lot of time crying. I once skipped a whole 50-minute class to sit in the dining room and cry.

He was there.

He was always there, through everything. He took my side when I argued and broke up with friends. He literally carried me on his shoulders when a school sponsored walk became too much for me. And because of his imposing stature (he was over 6 foot tall and grew an impressive beard) even the people who whispered about my “funny walk” never dared to laugh or say anything to my face.

When we left school, and went to different universities, I grew terrified that he’d break up with me. I convinced myself that he’d be sure to find a physically able girl, and quickly ditch the one who was using a walking stick at the age of 18.

He didn’t.

He stuck with me, again, through every negative thing. But I don’t want to paint a one-sided picture here, of a long-suffering boyfriend sticking by a cripple out of a sense of duty. I helped him too. He didn’t do well in academic environments; hated studying, hated writing essays, got bored and sad. I helped to get him through that difficult time as well, and even supported him when he announced that he was dropping out of university. I gave the love and determination that he gave to me back in kind.

Sometimes even nowadays, our relationship can feel uneven. It’s true that he helps me with certain physical tasks, when he’s around. Sometimes he’ll take my bins out, help me with the dishes, hold my arm to help me walk. He organises holidays. But as I said earlier, I feel like I bring love, emotional support and good advice to the relationship too. You don’t need functioning connective tissue for that.

So my message to every bright young thing about to embark on an inter-abled relationship is this; go for it. Love who you love, fully and without fear. People will judge you, and stare at you, and tell you it won’t work out, but you need to tell them to stuff it. Communicate openly with each other about how you’re feeling, and be proud of your relationship. 100 out of 100 times, it might just work.

Thanks for reading,

Rebecca