webster

Here's a clip of Hasbulla losing to an actual little kid. That's the sort of stuff my nightmares are made of. I'm not sure why finding out about him had such an impact on me. I'm not even sure what nature of impact it is exactly. Examples of my condition going untreated are rare, but not new to me. The example I've been familiar with all my life was Emmanuel Lewis.

Abdu Rozik is a third example, found through Hasbulla. They're mortal enemies or something. We're supposed to choose our rivalries on our own levels. In many contexts people do this naturally. Others often expect it to go that way. Me, I look for the biggest strongest person in the room and think of them as my primary rival. I guess that has its pros and cons, but it would be an even worse idea if I were still Hasbulla's size.

All three seem to have the same condition, but there's this strange vagueness around it. Rozik's family is trying to claim he just had rickets as a child, which is absurd. Whether going untreated was a choice, or due to impossibility, they seem to be ashamed of it. They all do some sort of martial arts too, which is kinda funny.

Rozik and Lewis have made their fortunes by going untreated. I wonder if it has less do with concern over what the public knows, and more about how they see themselves and their situation. I'm not sure, but they are all textbook examples of what untreated childhood growth hormone deficiency looks like. Strong odds are they all have it, but Hasbulla is the only one admitting it.

Maybe it's just a striking reminder of how far I've come and what I'm trying to do. It's striking to see just how serious GHD is. It's never been about being "short," so much as never growing up; maturing. I find it strange to see how childlike Hasbulla behaves, and how others treat him. He's loved for being like a perpetual child. One YouTuber commented, "best illness ever."

For a while now, I've been ruminating over these people with terrible conditions who are lauded for being optimistic and cheerful anyhow. I certainly don't begrudge them how they feel. I suppose it's throwing into stark relief, this contrast between how far I've come, and how miserable I still tend to be. On the one hand, holy shit it's been a long hard road. On the other, where am I even going.

When someone like my great uncle Daniel would encourage me to be at peace with myself, my situation, I'd get frustrated. Many years ago, he told me that some people live with their parents their whole lives. It's ok. It's nothing to be ashamed of. He never invited me to travel with him though. He once told me he would, but I suspect he realized I wasn't mature enough.

That would be framed other ways, but I've long wondered if that weren't a sizeable part of the problem. Not maturity in an intellectual sense, but something more fundamental seemed stunted. I wasn't ready to face the world. I didn't want to be at peace with that. I wanted to be able to travel with him.

I've been making strides all my life, but I'm running out of time and I've yet to succeed. I realize I'd be more pleasant if I accepted myself, my situation. We're supposed to accept the things we can't change, but I'm still trying. Not that I always have been. When I was with Jenny, I was preaching radical acceptance of ourselves and each other. We are who we are, I thought. Jenny encouraged that, but I was becoming restless. I was realizing this approach to life wasn't working out well for either of us.