The Movie “Conclave” Makes Me Rethink the Concept of Acceptance and How It Applies to My Own Life: By Jason Hahr

This post comes with a note to readers. This may or may not make complete sense. This post comes from a perspective of being stuck in my head. As much as I use this blog to teach and inform, this time, I am using it as a therapy tool as well. When I ask you, the readers, a question, please know that I am questioning you and my own subconscious. Now that I have said all of that, here we go.

Initially, I was going to write a post about a movie I recently saw called “Conclave.” On the surface, the film has nothing to do with disability or disability-related issues. Still, if one looks deeper, one can see that the movie is about both self-acceptance and being accepted by others. I will not go into the movie's plot because, like I said, this is not a film review. I only reference it because it got me thinking.

For eleven years now, I’ve been an outspoken voice for The Voiceless Minority, of which I am a member. However, I wonder if I have been an adequate advocate for people with disabilities, or as I like to call us, “The Voiceless Minority.” I felt pretty good about myself because we gained a new contributor, Michelle Zeman, so I wasn’t expecting a movie about the Catholic Church to make me examine myself.

Through this blog, I have attempted to teach acceptance and self-awareness. Although the movie was not related to the disability community, it was about acceptance, something I have not yet mastered. I am constantly on the go trying to be “normal,” whatever the hell that means. Today, however, the universe and God decided to remind me that even “normal” people must take care of themselves before they can help others. What am I talking about?

I am lying in bed, dictating this blog to my caregiver and friend, Gizelle. My feet are the size of over-inflated balloons, and they have been for weeks. My Mom, who I love immensely, says it’s all the “garbage” I eat, and no, I’m not quoting Joe Biden. I don’t eat people. She may be partly right. Yes, Mom, I acknowledge that you are right in print, and before somebody reading freaks out, I don’t think Trump supporters are garbage. Sometimes, I am even one of them. Okay, enough with the witty degression. Let's go back to my main point.

What I eat may play a role in my balloon feet, but I think something else also plays a part. The fact that I have a disability known as Cerebral Palsy slips my mind sometimes. No, I don’t forget that I look like a T-Rex; I forget that I have to slow down and reset because, as hard as it is to believe, sitting on my ass all the time is not suitable for my health. As much as my poor food choices may or may not contribute to my balloon feet, so does this pesky little thing called gravity and blood flow.

Okay, it's taken me a while, but I’m finally getting to my point. I will make the connection between the movie Conclave and my balloon feet. One of the priests in the film had to accept a part of themselves before they could do their job to the best of their ability. Maybe I’m reaching, but I don’t think so. Once you see the movie, you will understand what I mean. You may ask, how does this relate to blood flow and bad circulation? I had to accept certain aspects of my impairment and stop ignoring them as much as I would like to.

To be the best advocate for others, I have to take care of myself and accept the confines of my reality. I know I’m not quite there yet, but I’m trying. Thanks for listening/reading everyone. Until next time.

 

Your Friendly Neighborhood Super Advocate,

Jay