“Every Authentic Moment From My Childhood – Stepping Stones Toward Realization”

“Every authentic moment from my childhood – stepping stones toward the moment my body wouldn’t cooperate. At age 5, I first realized something was different. I couldn’t climb school stairs like other kids. My muscles wouldn’t cooperate. My legs felt heavy, my muscles felt locked. I remember the first time I couldn’t climb the school stairs – my legs felt like they didn’t belong to me. My muscles felt like they were locked in place. I remember the first realization that my muscles wouldn’t cooperate like other kids’ muscles.
At age 5, during PE sports day, I remember hitting the ball in rounders but I couldn’t run. My teacher shouted ‘RUN NOW!’ but my legs wouldn’t move. I fell on my face. I stayed quiet instead of explaining. I remember the first time my muscles betrayed me.
At age 5-6, my muscles went into total contraction nightmare. Every muscle in my body would contract when I moved – some took a full minute to relax. Some were full, some medium, some light. I was slow, sluggish, unbalanced. I’d get stuck on stairs 2nd or 3rd step. I’d freeze getting from chair/car/bed. If someone pushed me, my whole body would go into contraction and I’d fall over like a statue. My muscles wouldn’t cooperate like normal muscles.
At age 5-6, I went into my own shell. I was silent, soft, slow, limited playing. I had no confidence. I dared not ask teachers for help. I went into my own shell. I day-dreamed entire classes for years. I was known as “the sissy girl” to everyone. I didn’t learn anything – I was in foundation level in all subjects. By age 16 in 1996, I failed every subject. I went deeper into my shell.
At age 8, I told my mum my muscles were locked all the time. She took me to the doctor. The doctor said ‘you’ll get better around 13’ which didn’t happen. I remember the first false hope that was given to me. I remember the first time my body was judged instead of understood. I remember the first time my muscles were told they would get better – which they never did.
Every authentic moment from my childhood – stepping stones toward the moment my body wouldn’t cooperate. Every authentic struggle. Every authentic realization. Every authentic moment – written in my own muscle and memory, not in artificial images, but in my own authentic words, my own authentic experiences, my own authentic stepping stones toward the moment my body wouldn’t cooperate.”