The Climb

Have you ever felt like a foreigner in your own body? My body and I have been inseparable since birth but it has always been the most unfamiliar terrain to me.

Scottish highland green fills my vision as I look up at the solitary mountain in the centre of Edinburgh. The grassy slopes and crags of Arthur’s Seat form a formidable and rocky ascent, a thrill almost everyone in my home city has experienced. I watch my friends race towards the peak of the extinct volcano while I stand in its shadow, an insurmountable feat for my aching limbs to climb. For years, chronic joint pain defined who I was; every thought an assessment of my body or anxiety about my future. Years of aimlessly searching for answers, the unknown nature of what I was facing pushed me further into isolation. Sitting in the ninth doctor’s office, I was finally diagnosed in May 2019 with the incurable condition of Joint Hypermobility Syndrome. Receiving my diagnosis was a stepping stone however I wondered how many stones laid ahead in this lifetime climb. 

 

My diagnosis did not extinguish my questions. It created a new trail off the beaten path filled with new challenges. Friends questioned me and my “exaggerations” and doctors offered little guidance. My condition remained invisible to most while I lightheartedly danced around streams of constant pain; I suffered physically but was emotionally isolated too. I feared others’ perceptions and sharing vulnerabilities that could label me as “different”. But I refused to surrender to a lifetime of submission and limitations. Deprived of independence for too long, it was time to take control of my future by identifying a route forward. My research led me to a personal trainer with Hypermobility who showed me the life I could still lead.  For once, I felt completely understood by her empathetic nods and guidance rooted in her own experiences. Unlike so many of the sneering hikers who raced past me, she braces a hand on my shoulder and walks beside me. The community in her gave me the confidence to finally accept my condition and embrace adversity. I became stronger mentally which helped me improve physically. Progress is not linear; there were still days where frustration at my lack of improvement overwhelmed me and my mind drifted to comparing my life to my peers’ unburdened existences. My condition broke me down to a vulnerable state which elevated my empathy and understanding for others. What I perceived to be my greatest weakness was actually my greatest strength.

 

This new perspective of my condition sparked a change: there is power in shared vulnerability. Looking back on the rugged path, I saw that I had been narrowly focused on my own challenges. Now from this vantage point, unclouded by the earlier shadows, I am more observant to others struggling around me. Currently, I am standing atop Arthur’s Seat. I have a 360-degree view of the city instead of the insular path I once climbed. Rays of sun cast light around me and I can see the full picture: my condition does not define me but rather enables me to find my purpose in helping others.


Caitlin Marie