'I'm getting surgery to correct my disability and I'm not sure how to tell people or deal with the change.' AITA? UPDATED 2X
"I'm getting surgery to correct my disability, and I'm not sure how to tell people or deal with the change."
History: I come from an extremely low income, uneducated, and prejudiced family (basically midwestern rednecks). I was born with a disability that affects the way I walk. Growing up, my parents didn't believe that my inability to walk normally was a disability- they (mainly my father, my mom just kind of goes along with him) thought I was doing it for attention or to spite them or something, even as a toddler.
Because of this, I was punished for walking the only way I am physically able to. Which means I was basically punished constantly for about 7-8 years until a teacher had a sit-down with my parents and strongly suggested they take me to see someone.
At this point, the disability was identified, and the doctor suggested surgery- which my family couldn't afford. So I spent a number of years in leg braces, physical therapy, etc. (which didn't work, as it's a congenital disability).
My parents and family, despite being told what was going on, still blamed me for my condition- they believed that I faked this disability long enough as a baby and toddler that I eventually made my body this way. They've always been resentful because of that, and used to constantly remind me how much money they had to shell out for my "problem."
Throughout my childhood, I was constantly teased about my condition by other kids (I was in leg braces when Forrest Gump came out), yelled at and punished by my parents, and criticized by extended family and other adults (even strangers at the grocery store).
People even commented on it in my receiving line at my wedding 2 years ago. I spent years learning a fake normal walk for when I can't wear shoes, developing a thick skin, and learning to laugh at myself.
I've been reminded of this condition by everyone I meet and everyone I know on a constant basis for my entire life. At this point, it's such a strong part of who I am as a person and my resiliency, I don't even think of it as a disability, really. Just a part of who I am.
The Problem: At this point, I'm 30 years old. Over the past decade or so, I've had a lot of problems with my feet because of the unusual weight distribution pattern I place on them attempting to walk.
Over the last year, though, I started noticing signs of nerve damage (numbness, tingling, and shooting pain which renders me barely able to walk at times), and my doctor strongly stressed re-visiting an orthopedic surgeon.
At my consult, the surgeon was shocked. He kept asking me questions with this incredulous look on his face, taking pictures with his phone, and commenting on how surprised me was that I could walk as well as I can at this point.
He said it's one of the most severe cases he's ever seen of this particular condition, as most are fixed in childhood via surgery. The imaging of my lower extremities showed tissue damage and nerve impingement, making surgery a necessity at this point. So I scheduled a surgery a couple months from now.
I've had a lot of weird feelings about this since scheduling the surgery. The first pertains to how/when I'm going to tell my family. For years I have completely avoided any talk of my condition, and generally ignore all of the comments made by everyone ("Still walking like a freak, huh?" and the like).
I know my parents still believe I did this to myself. Even though I've developed a pretty thick skin to others, I still get emotional thinking about the abuse, shame, and humiliation I suffered at the hands of my parents and family all throughout my childhood because of this.
I'm afraid that it's all going to boil back to the surface when I tell them, and start a fight. We already have a tepid relationship, and I don't want to make it worse. The other weird feeling I have pertains to the feeling that I'm "fixing" something.
I know that at this point, it's either surgery or losing the use of my lower legs over the next few years. However, it feels like I'm losing a piece of me. I've spent 30 years telling myself that there's nothing wrong with me, finally "fixing" my condition feels like I'm agreeing with everyone, that there was something inherently wrong with me all along.
The surgeon said I would have to re-learn how to walk, run, jump, etc. I'm excited to know what it feels like to walk on two good legs, but at the same time, I start to cry even thinking about changing this part of me forever. It's part of me. It's the way I was made. Fixing it makes it seem like I agree that I was made wrong. I don't know how to make peace with that feeling.
Here is what readers had to say in response to the OP’s initial post:
You are not selling out, you are getting a medical procedure to make your life continue to be livable. Yes your life is going to change, and it'll be scary, but it is objectively for the best.
Anyone, including your family, who can't accept that is not worth having in your life. Frankly you are an angel for even keeping your family in your life as awful as it sounds like they've been to you. You are strong and you are making the right decision.
I'd recommend whilst you remove this disability from your life you cut out your horrid family. They honestly shouldn't have a place in it. I would also practice some short words like 'Yeah and I blame red heads for choosing their hair color. I was born with it you hick. Wishing it away would do nothing, what next, should I have done voodoo?' I think it's time you stop biting your tongue because they don't.
Could you ask your doctor to call your parents and explain the condition and the need for surgery and rehab to them? Your identity is as a brave survivor, you will always have that, even after the surgery.
The OP then returned to respond to readers' initial comments.
EDIT- Holy cannoli, I came home from school to see this, and oh my goodness! Thank you all so much for your kind words and support. I am truly reading all the comments, even if I can't respond to all of them.
I want to thank you all so much. Your comments made me laugh, cry, and seriously think about a lot of things in my life related to my family. I wanted to address some points that I've seen come up a couple times, for better clarification:
1. My family no longer thinks I'm faking. At this point, they believe that I faked my condition as a baby and toddler, and that led to the condition I live with today. Kind of like a "if you keep making that face it's going to stick that way" mentality. There is absolutely no getting through to them about this, so I just ignore it.
2. I grew up in a poor, uneducated, generally abusive household with an abusive alcoholic father and an enabler for a mother. I've been in therapy off and on for almost a decade now, but really started to make progress a few years ago when I started seeing my current psychiatrist, so no worries on my current mental health.
Although I still have a lot of problems related to my family history as well as other things that happened, I am in the best possible place now, and actively dealing with it.
3. The reason I still keep my family in my life is because of a few reasons. One, of course, is the unconditional love I feel for them. As horrible as some of them have been, deep down I will always want to help them and hope that things will get better.
I realize this is stupid of me, but I've been working at limiting my exposure to them for a number of years now, and it is a slow process. Another reason (which I know is also probably stupid) is for the sake of my other family members.
I am very protective of my family, and in my teen years established something of a caretaker/head of household role with them when my dad's alcoholism got really bad. I can't handle the thought of the stress and pain I would cause my mom and siblings if I were to cut them out of my life. I don't know if I could do that to them. I do love them, as flawed as they are.
4. After reading through most of the great comments you guys left, I think I'm going to simply get the surgery and not say anything. I live across the country from my family, and only see them 1-2 times a year for a week or so at a time. I probably won't be seeing them again until next Christmas.
I could potentially get the surgery and mostly recover by then. If they notice, they notice. I realize by reading your comments that I don't owe them an explanation. If they push about it, I'll do what I normally do, and leave the situation before I get upset. It's not of their concern what I do with my body. Thank you all so very much for your kind words, they mean the world to me.
Here is what readers had to say in response to the OP’s update:
You sound like you don't need your family anymore. Maybe consider cutting contact until you can see them on terms you're comfortable with?
Life isn't fair, you really didn't win the lottery of life getting stuck with what sounds like horrible parents I'm sorry you had to go through that.
Wow. I am so sorry that you had to experience this. I live with an invisible disability -- so I've faced numerous conversations where there was skepticism about whether my disorder was real, whether I had it, and what not.
I wish you all the best, and I wish I could articulate my thoughts better. But, I guess the thought I want to convey is -- you're not alone, and you don't owe your family any explanation or justification for how you deal with your disability.
Three months later, the OP returned with an update.
Hi everyone! I was so overwhelmed by the positive responses and well wishes back when I posted about this, that I thought I would update all of you on how things are going.
So I had my surgery about a month ago, and it went well without any complications. I was in excruciating pain for the first couple days, but my husband was by my side 24/7 to help out. He had a week off from his work, so it worked out nicely, and I was able to wean myself off the narcotic painkillers they gave me after about 5-6 days.
Since then, I've been on crutches, and still have about another 3 or so weeks of crutches to go, most likely. I don't want to get crazy specific about what my disability or surgery was for privacy purposes, so unfortunately that's all I can really say about it.
It's been tedious, but the great thing about recovering from an injury or surgery, I suppose, is learning a new level of patience and endurance. I'm really happy with my recovery so far and the results I'm seeing already. I can't wait until I am recovered and strong enough to try walking without the crutches or any other device, and see what it's like!
Leading up to the surgery and immediately after, I didn't tell anyone about it, not even my closest friends. I was kind of afraid of how word might get around, if people would bring it up or something.
It got really difficult, though, to keep the secret, as my husband and I had to be careful about what we said and who we said it to. It felt like we were sneaking around, like we had something to be ashamed of. Finally, I told a couple close friends, who were very supportive.
I wasn't planning on telling my family, but I finally did. I felt like I was lying by omission when my mom would call and ask how everything was, anything new, etc., and I would just try to act normal.
I finally told her, plain and simple, "Yeah, so I had surgery about 2 and a half weeks ago..." She was pretty shocked, and she seemed genuinely hurt that I hadn't told her (not in what she said, but in her tone). She asked my why I hadn't mentioned anything, and I said that it had always been a very tense subject in the family, and I didn't want to bring it up.
I think, somehow, that that got through to her. She seemed genuinely regretful of the situation, she was speaking to me with shame in her voice. We didn't talk long, as I was studying, but later that night, I just kind of thought, "to hell with it" and made a facebook post coming out to my friends and other family members and letting them know what I had had done.
I wrote a narrative about what it was like growing up being different, the rude and hurtful things people would say, the feelings of shame and isolation that I felt, and how those feelings were so strong that I was debating whether or not I should even tell anyone.
It was a positive post though, overall, as I tried to remind people that individuals with disabilities shouldn't be treated like an outcast or an exhibit. And honestly, I don't have time or room in my heart to feel angry or resentful, I am so hopeful for the future and looking forward to normal mobility.
Everyone was incredibly supportive about the post, and my parents called me a bunch of times in the days after. We played phone tag a bit, and when I finally talked to my mom a couple days ago, she said she wanted to start looking at flights to come out here and visit me, and "help out."
I told her that wasn't necessary, that I was pretty used to the crutches now and the limited mobility I have, and she said she hopes I can reconsider in the next couple days, as it would make her feel a little bit better to be able to help me out, cook, shop, etc.
Apparently me getting the surgery and intentionally not telling them, coupled with the fb post that my mom saw (I didn't call them out or anything in it, just talked in general about how difficult it was), made my parents feel horrendously guilty about the way I grew up and was treated.
My mom wanted to try to make it up to me somewhat by flying out here and spending some time together. I appreciate the sentiment, and I'm glad that they're seeing the way they treated me in a new light, but I do think I'm honestly too busy in the next couple weeks to host a guest. I told her we could revisit the discussion in a couple weeks.
So, everything is pretty great right now. I made peace a long time ago with the fact that I will never be completely comfortable or close with my family, but it's nice to know that people can change, or try to.
I really appreciate the effort my parents are putting in, even if it's not necessary. It's the thought that counts, I guess. I don't want to say I'm glad they feel bad, but I'm kinda glad they feel bad. It shows that they're human, maybe there's some hope there.
Anyway, thank you all again so, so much for your kindness and support, your replies and massages meant everything to me, even if I didn't get around to responding to them. I read and appreciated every single one. Here's to good health and a good life, goodbye!
Here is what readers had to say in response to the OP’s post:
That family deserves to feel remorse cause what they did is SO wrong. I'm glad that OP is doing better and all.
Ooh, it's love bombing to get our good social standing back time.
Maybe I'm just a cynic, but decades of insults and abuse from her parents, and then she writes a facebook post about what she went through, and she thinks that her mom wanting to come see her is a good thing?
I mean, honestly? As a disabled person, if surgery could fix my issues, I'd go for it. But I understand OP's feelings about it. We spend so much time trying to get people to accept us as disabled that anything that makes our lives a little easier seems like admitting to everyone that they were right. I hope OP is doing well these days and that they've finally broken free of their toxic bio family.
Parents love to feel guilty about the way they raise their kids but 20 years later. They'll be happy being the worst parent in the world before the kids move out.
Damn. You can just feel how badly OP’s family treated her. The description of abuse just came out matter-of-factly with no colorful language to describe how she felt. She’s over it and no longer wants to deal with the drama of calling them out for it. All she can do is place them just out of arm’s reach. Hope she finds peace.