If Wishes Were Horses

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"If wishes were horses, beggars would ride"
Proverb

Hello Dear Readers!

Well, after a week where I handed the reigns of this humble blog over to my lovely wife (see The Mrs Speaks!), this week’s post will once again have a perspective that is well and truly seated.

Yes, I’m back baby!

For today’s meandering musings I’m going  to revisit a topic I’m sure I’ve brushed up against before, although I’m doubly damned if I can find the particular post in which this occurred.  As the title of the post probably gives away, this is the all too common tendency to say… What if?

There’s a question, you see, that has been posed to me several times in my life, in many different circumstances and many different forms but that always boils down to one thing. 

What if I hadn’t been born disabled?

It’s not usually put quite that bluntly if I’m honest. Sometimes the question is posed as “don’t you ever wish you could… play football/use the stairs/ go on long country walks?” (No, I don’t get that last one either). Sometimes it’s “I bet you wish you didn’t have to cope with… Wobbly wheels (still with us by the way) /people staring/inaccessible buildings.”  And of course there’s always my personal favourite “I bet you really miss... (Yeah, no. You can’t miss what you’ve not had).

Now, I’m sorry if that sounds in anyway churlish (really, I am) but time and repetition have probably meant that such well-meaning sentiments have begun and continued to wear just a tiny little bit thin. I mean, have I ever mused about things being a bit different? Well sure I have. I have dreamt the dreams of a lot of young men. Turning out for the local sports side, scoring a ninetieth minute screamer, an all-important conversion or last over boundary to secure that title winning match, revelling in the roaring adulation of the crowd.  I might even have wished, on occasion, for an easier life; a life without the barriers and challenges that disability forces one to face on a day to day basis.

The truth though, is that such fantasies are useless. Things are as they are and until science makes some truly momentous leaps that is the way they will stay. The truth dear readers, is that brief moments of weakness aside, I really wouldn’t want it any other way.

Now you might think that odd, even for an odd-bod like me, but here’s the thing. We all make choices as we barrel our way along in this world and our circumstances, our very lives as they stand right now, are nothing less than the accumulation of those choices. It’s like those Choose Your Own Adventure books where you turn to page 34 to turn left and page 116 to give the scroll of thingamabob to the zombie camel… Except in our case we already know how things turn out. 

Things are pretty good for me right now. I’m married to a wonderful woman, happy in my work, and lucky enough to have an outstanding collection of family and friends in my life. Yes there are some things that could be better. My trick guts are still tricky, my wheel continues to wobble and Tina and I are yet to find our dream house to buy. All in all though I count myself as pretty content, and the thing I try to always keep in mind is that everything I’ve gone through in life has been but a single step on that road. My disability has been a major factor in this of course, shaping who I am, shaping how I view the world. It has been a factor in the people that have arrived, and more importantly, stayed in my life. In short, had things been different then, well, things would be different.

All of which is just my usual sprawling way of saying that it’s no good wishing our lives away. I realise we all have our demons to fight and I would never wish to belittle anyone else’s personal struggle. Things are as they are however and for me what really counts is what we make of that

Until next time…