Perhaps the crippledness that we have is not always physical. Perhaps it’s living with, knowing people who are, and being addicted.
I have one of those in my life and the sense of being crippled I have from the physical defects I suffer is nothing compared with the sense I have of watching someone who has talents, skills and a lovely smile descend into a drunken stupor every night.
Yes it’s temporary and, yep, in some circles I’m an enabler.
But I always think “I can deal with this” and as a good friend said “Well, you can’t really can you?”
It affects the psyche and the balance. There’s a sense of negativity and wastage.
And while it helps me understand how it must be for women who are in abusive relationships it’s a lesson I don’t need any more. I think that people who live with addicted people must be the most pollyannish in the world. Always thinking it will improve. Always hopeful. I also learned that it’s not good to keep it a secret. So I’m posting this.