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Michelle Evans said:Inciting any kind of physical violence as a valid way to settle a dispute isn't permitted on this forum. If you think you can steer a discussion in that direction, I won't just be deleting posts anymore... I'll be issuing bans and locking threads immediately.
I wasn't suggesting violence. My intention was to address the broader societal attitude toward people facing challenges—beyond just my own situation. Perhaps it serves as a warning against jumping to conclusions. In this instance, for example, there seems to be an assumption that because I have a disability and walk differently, I should simply sit there and absorb the rudeness of those around me.
And I am certainly not the only one dealing with issues like this.
So, I have muscular dystrophy. I’m not sure how many of you are actually familiar with the condition, but frankly, it doesn't matter. In my case, it is a heavy, agonizing burden. I am mobile and relatively independent, though I can't handle anything remotely strenuous—lifting something heavy or getting up from a squat without bracing myself against the floor or grabbing onto furniture is out of the question. That is my reality. Because my muscle weakness causes secondary issues with my joints and tendons, my disability is visible. Physically, I look perfectly fine, but when I walk, I waddle, and my feet drop like a duck's. There is nothing I can do about it. Not that I’m intentionally shaking my ass at everyone passing by, but anyone watching would notice.
That is why I’ve become terrified of going anywhere alone. My troubles really started back when I was living in a dorm during high school. It wasn't just kids; adults would shout all sorts of filth at me. They'd claim I had soiled myself, call me a wreck, or suggest I was some slutty girl looking for attention by "flaunting" myself. I heard those comments almost every single time I ventured out solo. Once, I even overheard a group—they probably thought I wouldn't hear them because I had headphones in—saying someone should grab me in an alleyway and rape me because of the way I walk. Another time, an old man actually charged at me on a bicycle and told me he did it because it was what I deserved for "mocking" people with my gait. (Though I honestly have no idea who I could possibly be mocking.)
And it hasn't just been verbal abuse. On several occasions, I have been physically struck in the park simply because of how I walk, right in broad daylight.
Because of this, walking alone has become a source of genuine fear. If I go out, I bring my mother or my boyfriend along; then, suddenly, everyone stays quiet. Sometimes I will drive my car just ten yards to avoid being seen walking. If I absolutely have to walk, I put my headphones in and blast music at max volume just so I don't have to hear the insults.
Whenever I have tried to snap back at an insulting comment, the situation escalates into threats or senseless outbursts.
Since I own my own car and carry a legal disability placard, I use the designated parking spots. A few times now, someone has actually run over to the parking enforcement officer to report that a "young, healthy girl" was using someone else's permit.
There are plenty of other indignities, but I’ve reached my breaking point. I’m rambling, and frankly, I’m scared for my life. No one ever stops to consider that I walk this way because of a medical condition; they just assume I’m some girl looking for trouble or that I'm being lazy while climbing stairs.
Sometimes, I feel like giving up on walking entirely and just switching to a wheelchair. But if I stop walking, I’ll lose the ability to stand at all.
I have considered buying a stun gun. If someone makes a comment about my walk, they can get a shot to the ribs. Given how much pain I endure daily because of my disease, they can certainly handle a little pain of their own.
What kind of society are we living in? Is being sick a privilege reserved only for the elderly?
It really depends on the name, though trauma doesn't just stop at childhood. I have a short, peculiar name, and back in school, the teasing nearly drove me insane. It doesn't even mean anything specific, yet kids possess such a cruel imagination. There was a time when I absolutely loathed my name, but I’ve grown to be quite proud of it now. Even today, whenever I meet someone new, they often ask if it's actually my real name. I once had a girl ask if she could just call me Maya, for reasons entirely unknown to me.
There are certainly ridiculous names out there these days, but you don't need a nonsensical name to deal with trauma from peers or adults.
It appears there aren't many people living with dystrophy on this forum yet, given the lack of responses.
I believe we should discuss this condition more frequently; I’ve noticed quite a few mothers dealing with affected children who feel completely lost regarding where to turn for answers.
I am one of them. I have a partial merosin deficiency. I am ambulatory, though I require a bit of assistance when fatigue or intense pain sets in. I drive an automatic vehicle modified for my needs. I don't rely on medication. My diagnostic journey was extensive: I underwent three muscle biopsies—two right here in the States, and a third in Germany because they couldn't definitively identify the type locally. Physically, my development is normal; I walk independently and can manage stairs. The only visible indicators are some weakness in my hips and feet while walking, along with scoliosis. Mentally, I am holding up well, though it is painful to deal with the judgment. It isn't just children staring on the street; even older people judge me because they don't understand the diagnosis. They mistake my gait for something intentional, assuming I'm being provocative to attract men. Generally speaking, I have a social circle and life carries on normally.
I receive physical therapy at home and visit a medical spa once a year.
If anyone comes across this topic, please reach out. Share your thoughts, your comments, or your experiences... this is a brutal disease, and I hope to see more dialogue here.