Parents worry about their children; there is no escaping that reality. They tend to worry more if their child becomes sick with the flu or a bad cough. They tend to really worry if their child has a disability or illness of some sort. Parents hate seeing their kids in any kind of pain; be it emotional or phsyical. If parents had it their way, then they would make it so their kids never felt pain or sorrow.

When I was younger, my mother would always tuck me in and lay with me for a few moments before I went to sleep. During these nightly rituals, I would sometimes confess things that were on my mind, like if a boy made fun of how my legs were different at school or if I got left out and expected it was because of my medical disability. On those occasions, my mom would get all misty eyed and tell me that she wished she could take it away from me and have it instead, that way I wouldn’t have to deal with the daily pain, the almost yearly surgeries, the feelings of being alone, and other things that come with have a medical disability. Instantly, I would feel guilty for making her feel sad about my MHE. I knew that if my parents had it their way, they would make it disappear for me.

As I grew older, I sort of stopped talking about how I felt regarding my MHE – for the most part anyway, there were days when I couldn’t hold it in anymore and the dams holding back that river of tears would just burst. I was afraid that by complaining about “insignifcant things” I would make my parents feel guilty for the way I was born. I also didn’t want them worrying about how I was dealing with things; as one day in the car my mom confessed that she and my dad sometimes wondered how I dealt with everything, and if I was dealing with it okay.

Its one thing wondering if I’m dealing with things okay myself, but having my parents wonder it is another thing. I don’t want my family thinking I’m weak for having bad days, so I keep them to myself as best I can. It’s rather contradicting though, because a lot of my family reads my blog. I still feel a little weird about confessing these bad days on my blog knowing that my family is going to read it and probably think differently about me; but I try not to think about that. I want to be honest in my posts to help other teens with MHE – or any other kind of disability that makes them feel like an alien or something.

Yes, there are times when I feel like a freak of nature. Yes, there are times when the physical pain gets to be too much and I just want to crawl up in a ball and sleep it away. There are times when I wish I could do all the things my friends and sisters do – figure skating, rollar blading, horse back riding, and snowboarding – without worrying about getting seriously injured. There are times I feel like I’m trapt in a bubble because my parents don’t want anything bad happening to me, and I dislike that bubble. I want to fall and scrape my knees but still know that they’ll be there to bandage it and tell me I’m not an idiot for trying something I really wanted to experience. I want to feel like I’m living and having fun, without them being mad at me because their scared of the outcome.

But I honestly don’t begrudge my parents anything. They keep me so close because they don’t want to see me hurt; and I love them for it. I’d probably be the same way if I was in their shoes. They are parents, after all, and it’s practically programmed in their heads to be over protective.