Disability and manhood: Being a burden

At the urging of a few friends, I've decided to expand upon my previous post on this subject. I'm not one to mince words, so I figured I'd stab directly into the dark underbelly and see what oozes from the wound.

Growing up, we're taught that self-reliance is a major milestone in achieving authentic manhood. And then there's someone like me, who has never cooked a single meal or made a cup of tea, ever. The bitter irony of life with a disability (from my perspective, anyway) isn't the list of things you can't do for yourself, it's the time and effort people around you must sacrifice so that you can have something vaguely resembling a normal life.

Aside from regular sustenance, here's a partial list of the things I need help with on a daily basis:

• Bathing
• getting dressed
• using the toilet
• going anywhere that isn't within the confines of my home
• getting onstage at karaoke bars (just kidding, I would only sing under threat of death...perhaps not even then).

To complete each of these, as well as hundreds more infinitely mundane things, someone else has to be actively involved, instead of doing the stuff they'd rather do. Even though my family and friends frequently tell me that they don't mind helping out, being the guy who always needs help results in periods of deep guilt and self-loathing. From there, it's just a short mental hop to "Everyone else's life would be easier if I were dead."

I know it's a gross over-simplification and fortunately, these feelings are offset by doing well in my work or brightening someone's day. What this boils down to, as life so often does, is an ongoing balancing act. I'm just happy I'm able to spend most of my time rightside-up.