I cannot catch a ball. It’s my dirty, hidden secret (well, not anymore). When a spherical object comes spiraling toward me, my only reaction is to duck. The notion to catch, kick, hit with a stick or oversized fly-swatter, or bounce off my head is absolutely foreign to me.
Because you are probably wondering, yes, I’ve had this affliction all my life. We aren’t sure if it’s genetic (neither of my parents are strong ball-catchers) or environmental (see the previous statement), and the availability of funding for research to explore the origin of non-ball catching is limited.
As far as I know, there is also no cure.
My husband has been an excellent caregiver who understands my lack of ball-catching capacity and holds reasonable expectations of my independence in that area. He deserves frequent accolades for seeing beyond my limitations to the capable person inside.
To be fair, we all have our weaknesses. We aren’t all defined by them.
Imagine if my ball-catching deficiency was the focus of my life. Thankfully, I’ve never been known as “that lady who can’t catch.” I don’t have to go around explaining and defending my weakness. Many people who have known me for years probably don’t know that this is the real reason I don’t join the company co-ed softball team. No one schedules focused time in my daily or weekly routine when I’m forced to practice an activity that I don’t really enjoy or feel good about.
My weakness also hasn’t significantly limited my career. Granted, I was probably barred from becoming a professional sports player. Otherwise, it has never been something I’ve been expected to disclose to my employer or include on every application for every resource I’ve ever needed. I’m not asked silly questions about it, and my friends and family are not elevated to near sainthood for loving and supporting me despite my weaknesses.
The ability to make decisions about the exposure of their weaknesses is not a luxury experienced by a lot of people with disabilities. Their lives are often defined by the very thing that most of us try to work around, hide or ignore. Often, any formal support system is centered on intensive strategies to rid the person of weaknesses (and any sense of dignity in the process).
Even if the disability is not highly visible, people with disabilities often have to struggle with the decision of when and how to “come out” to employers, friends and romantic partners about the nature of their disability.
We are all multifaceted creatures with a lot of strengths and talents and usually a few weaknesses as well. Focusing on our weaknesses is a recipe for frustration, failure and even depression. So why do we expect people with disabilities to respond any differently?
If we meet walking down Main Avenue, I implore you: greet me with “nice blouse” or “I enjoyed your article.” Don’t throw me a ball. It won’t be pretty.
Tara Kiene is the president/CEO of Community Connections Inc.
