8 minute read
Irma Khetsuriani: What We Believe About Our Abilities
It was in Abkhazia that I took my first steps and finished the first grade, in my tiny village of Tsagera. I had a carefree childhood, a big house, a beautiful yard with fruit trees, greenery all around and blue sea... When I was 7 years old, the war started, and we had to leave our area. Our house was burned, and along with the house one of the most precious times of my life.
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The first step into a new life begins at Tskaltubo, I lived there for 13 years; However, as an internally displaced person, I frequently faced bullying. We did not have a house or enough food or clothes. Everyone helped us in whatever way they could, but it was a difficult time for everyone...
Having graduated from Tskaltubo’s 4th secondary school, I had outstanding teachers and classmates there. I then entered the Faculty of Foreign Languages and Informatics at the Akaki Tsereteli State University of Kutaisi. I tried to pass the speech test better at the end of the first year, but I couldn’t because it was on September 20, 2004 that I had to take the exam, while on September 16, my life changed forever… The diagnosis was a benign spine tumor, growing rapidly, arising from the spinal cord, resulting in paraplegia of the lower limbs.
My life was rewritten, I had to rebuild it again, four years of depression followed, I couldn’t believe that I was disabled (it was and is a catch-all term, we still can’t get over it). Dependency on others made me worse; I thought my life was over. There was a greater struggle for my family members to accept my condition than me; they cried and got upset over me; this drove me to transform, my mom was my source of revival.
I began exercising. Even though I made almost no progress, and the doctors did not give me hope, I stubbornly refused to let the thought of never walking get to me; I couldn’t cope, but was not going to give up; then I got tired... A long rehabilitation process made me realize that I had to do something at the same time, otherwise, I would sink, I would become empty inside, and everything would seem pointless and irrelevant.
In the mirror, without the mirror, I was talking to myself and working on myself; everyone was there for me and that was another reason to keep going. My mornings started with the words, “You can make this the best day ever”. I was choosing everything, classifying what was medicine and what was poison for my soul. Rather than spending time on stupid and depressing thoughts, I fell into the habit of slowly accepting my body as it was. I was learning to love myself rather than pity myself, I had no other choice...
Walking and communicating with people helped me realize that, despite many barriers, I am a full-fledged person who can live without restrictions. It was difficult for me to accept society’s attitude, I could only see pity in their eyes; some cried for me, some comforted me, some thought I was a beggar using a wheelchair and threw coins in my hands. At that time, all I needed was their support and perception of me as a normal individual.
When you don’t say it, no one knows; that’s how I began learning about rights, fighting in the streets and protesting with others in my community; we screamed anywhere we could, were thrown mud and cursed, yet we remained patient because we knew we were fighting for our own and others’ rights.
The society went through a wave of consciousness raising, attitudes were slowly changing, and we stood up and are continuing to do so for equality, accessibility, and independence. Our actions were generally accepted as of doing good, but there were people who called us to stay at home because we disturbed them outside, however, we did not let it scare us. Though the situation is much better today, stigmas, terms, and awareness still remain a significant problem. The lack of adequate infrastructure remains a constant challenge.
Having a sense of responsibility is what encouraged me to become involved in sports, believing if I was able to succeed, others would be inspired to start being active. It is unfortunate that many people with disabilities are still reluctant to go out, they give up and stay in one closed space. Many people are struggling financially, morally, but I believe that if we are willing to take on these challenges, if we are not afraid of change and mud thrown at us along the way, we can do anything.
Having worked as an office manager for the Georgian National Paralympic Committee since 2013, I was working in an extraordinary team, but I needed more space and a larger scale. This is how fencing has found me. Through my friend, I met Malkhaz Meskhi and Merab Bazadze, who shared a new sports world with me; we studied together, worked together, fought together and gained all the results together. There is no doubt that wheelchair fencing is the main axis of my life. When I first entered the gym, I thought I would not stay long but I was wrong; a new countdown began, new breath, new goals…
Fencing is an intellectual sport and the brain plays a critical role. The first six months were filled with despair, I thought I couldn’t do it, I thought I wasn’t good enough for this sport. With the ascent to the great peaks underway, everything became clear to me; but then I was more afraid, believing that I was accountable and must achieve good results; I was overwhelmed; I couldn’t cope with such a tremendous amount of pressure.
It took a lot of nerves for me to win all the competitions I won in the first five years, I was dying and coming back to life; I was short of breath and I didn’t know what to do, but my coach comforted me: “Don’t worry, nothing is expected from you, just do what I taught you”; though I was still full of fears. Then, I began to work with myself and my fears again, trying to understand what worried me, first it was the word “competition,” then society and responsibility, then opponents and referees. Having gone through everything, I realized that I was fighting myself. I had to defeat myself, only the cowardly and unconfident “I” was stopping me.
After a lot of struggle, I utilized all the methods and techniques that I was taught. Experience and practice awakened me, I was able to do a lot more than I anticipated. I put the responsibility aside and began to enjoy my work. You have to let the fears come out and then imagine the worst possible ending and realize it isn’t the end of the world. I am still nervous, but I am not afraid. There’s a myth that you can’t succeed in fencing because you’re not good enough; when your brain, muscles, and body make automatic movements, you realize that nothing can stop you from achieving your goals. Each time the Georgian national anthem plays and the Georgian flag flies, it is a feeling of pride and excitement to introduce your small, suffering country to the world. Currently, our women’s wheelchair fencing team ranks top in the world in the discipline of sabre.
Despite all of my accomplishments, I haven’t yet succeeded in my personal life; I’d created a family, but Georgian mentality held me back. They told me, “You should be happy that you’re referred to as wife”, “You’re in a wheelchair, what can you expect”, “Thank him for marrying you”, “He’s a hero, who can live with a wheelchair user at home?” Relationships are becoming increasingly difficult as people constantly remind you that you are in a wheelchair. In fact, I am a strong, successful woman, who needs someone who cares and loves her, who accepts her as she is.
There are sorrows and joys, trusts and distrusts, good and evil, mergers and separations, love and hate, life and death, triumph or defeat, movement or immobility in our lives, the main thing is to find the place where we belong, and while we can choose which side we want to be on, the most important thing is to find our place on this planet.
