Teaching the Body
Apr. 19th, 2026 11:39 amWe had a new guy show up in November, making him our first new long-hauler in 3-4 years, depending how you count it. (He’s the first new semi-daily fronter in 4.) There’s a lot of complications and drama and confusion that causes, but one of the bigger ones is him needing to learn how the Body moves.
Our body is quite disabled, with moderate to severe Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome that means our joints hyperextend and slip from their sockets constantly. We use a cane full time (or we should—certain people like to not use it and then injure ourself), and we also have a rolator, crutches, and wheelchair.
Quite frankly, no one except maybe TW has any idea how to use those aids as well as me. Part of being good at using mobility aids is being good at integrating them into your perception of your body, and especially for headmates who originated as explicitly nondisabled (Riley, AJ, the Knights) that is hard to do! Every long-hauler has a decent sense and doesn’t make serious mistakes, but they’re less efficient.
Monday, though, is brand new. He’s been here for five months, which has given him time to learn, but it took me way too long to realize that I should probably teach him.
It’s easy not to notice how weirdly your body moves, especially when it’s been weird your entire life and got worse gradually. When it gains a new able-bodied inhabitant who spent their school years in physical training, it is much more visible. The way we deal with inclines while hiking, for example, very actively avoids pressure on our knees by having our steps bounce weirdly.
And this is all before trying to explain how to relocate our joints (which is usually my job because I’m the best at it), when to take as-needed medication, what exactly is too much exertion, and other body needs that are so specific to ours.
It’s one of those things that tempts me to make a zine.
Our body is quite disabled, with moderate to severe Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome that means our joints hyperextend and slip from their sockets constantly. We use a cane full time (or we should—certain people like to not use it and then injure ourself), and we also have a rolator, crutches, and wheelchair.
Quite frankly, no one except maybe TW has any idea how to use those aids as well as me. Part of being good at using mobility aids is being good at integrating them into your perception of your body, and especially for headmates who originated as explicitly nondisabled (Riley, AJ, the Knights) that is hard to do! Every long-hauler has a decent sense and doesn’t make serious mistakes, but they’re less efficient.
Monday, though, is brand new. He’s been here for five months, which has given him time to learn, but it took me way too long to realize that I should probably teach him.
It’s easy not to notice how weirdly your body moves, especially when it’s been weird your entire life and got worse gradually. When it gains a new able-bodied inhabitant who spent their school years in physical training, it is much more visible. The way we deal with inclines while hiking, for example, very actively avoids pressure on our knees by having our steps bounce weirdly.
And this is all before trying to explain how to relocate our joints (which is usually my job because I’m the best at it), when to take as-needed medication, what exactly is too much exertion, and other body needs that are so specific to ours.
It’s one of those things that tempts me to make a zine.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-20 06:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2026-04-21 03:09 pm (UTC)Crow&, I'd be interested in the zine, if you make one. Bodily integration differences fascinate me, as frustrating as they can be. I struggle to recognize some bodily sensations like hunger, and some bodily problems feel like I know about them cognitively but don't experience them directly, which means the mechanical skills for dealing with them aren't always available.
-- Bash
no subject
Date: 2026-04-21 04:39 pm (UTC)