Artistic Ramblings - The Stick

This is an artistic rambling, a miniseries within my blog that aims to explore a bit of everything. Sometimes it’s in terms of mental health or outside influences – but all of which will typically relate to my experiences, thoughts and inspirations as an artist. Thank you for reading!

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This blog post briefly outlines physical and mental health challenges (namely depression and anxiety) and mentions instances of harassment and ableism. If at any point this is too triggering, I urge you not to read on. Below are some helpful organisations which I encourage you to contact, should this blog post cause any distressing thoughts, emotions or reactions to arrive.

Beyond Blue: https://www.beyondblue.org.au/ | 1300 224 636

Lifeline: https://toolkit.lifeline.org.au/ | 13 11 14

Reach Out: https://au.reachout.com/

For urgent assistance: 000

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To get a proper understanding of what this blog post means to me, I want to invite you back to 2016. It was a significant year for many reasons, but in the earlier months, something happened to me that I hadn’t truly considered the impact of until recently.

I was still in high school at the time – and I’ll be the first to tell you that I wasn’t particularly fond of P.E. The theory portion? Sure. The ‘getting hit in the head or face by baseballs and netballs’ portion? I didn’t enjoy that much at all.

Still, it was a compulsory subject, so I tried. And trying was what landed me in a bit of a messy situation.

We were playing some form of rugby when I went to kick the ball… And I heard a horrifying 'crack' in my left knee. That’s what I get for panicking and kicking a ball with my left leg when I am very right-handed – and footed!

The pain that followed was horrible. I could hardly put any weight on my leg, and cried while trying to hobble off of the oval, while my teacher rolled his eyes at me. I didn’t know how I was going to get home – especially when my journey involved having to walk up a rather significant hill no matter which way I went.

I was fortunate enough to have a friend’s parent drop me off home, by which point, my knee was looking rather questionable in size. Naturally, this prompted a hospital visit.

From what they could see, nothing was broken. And they couldn’t see anything to explain the crack I'd felt and heard. So, they recommended I spend a couple weeks on crutches, presuming it was some form of soft tissue damage. That sounded reasonable enough.

Unfortunately for me, ‘a couple weeks’ quickly extended to a couple months. I was confined to crutches and a knee brace became the accessory I wore every single day without fail while we investigated why the pain was lingering for so long.

I didn’t expect it to be that big of a deal, and it really shouldn’t have been. But the students and teachers made it a living hell.

Most days, I just wished I could hide away from everyone, much like Jasper did in this cute pic of him in 2016.

Every day, I was accused of faking it. Every day, I was questioned about what was wrong. People complained because I walked slowly. People protested because my crutches were in the way. And the final straw was when students decided to throw food at me.

So, I tossed the crutches. I handed them in. I accepted defeat.

I gave up, despite needing them, and stuck with my knee brace. It still hurt, but I managed. I still received daily scoldings for being unable to participate in P.E, but that was just something I learned to accept. And after the months of bruised armpits and harassment, I told myself I would never ever use a pair of crutches ever again.

What was wrong with my knee? I don’t even know.

After a year of wearing a knee brace, I went into the next school year without it. This wasn’t because I didn’t need it anymore, but because I didn’t want the trouble. It was easier to accept an invisible, daily pain than be pestered constantly.

I don’t know what was wrong with it. I don’t even think it really ‘healed’ in whatever way it was meant to. I think I just learned to adapt until the problem either fixed itself or became a part of life that I could manage.

Now, I invite you to 2025. A lot of things have changed in that time, and there are hundreds upon hundreds of things that I am thankful for.

I have shorter hair now. I get to craft every day. I run my own business. I have an amazing support system. I have the opportunity to live every day of my life as ME.

Some things have stayed the same. And my ‘no crutches’ rule hasn’t faltered.

I hated that time in my life, and I have always said that if I ever need crutches again, the standard under-arm crutches are out. I will pick anything else before I return to the memory of bruised armpits and having food thrown at me.

If you have been reading the blog or following along social media posts, you would have seen we had a significant health hiatus that started in the middle of July. I had a flare up unlike anything I had ever experienced before, and this prompted a 10.5-hour long hospital visit and several series of blood tests, ultrasounds, CT scans, etc. in the months that followed.

I’ve improved. I’m still in a lot of pain, and it’s all a bit different to what I was used to as a chronically ill person. But I’ve improved, and I’m managing as best as I can. I’m not completely couch-bound like I was in July and August.

We returned to markets in September to start preparing for the busy market season and work out how to do markets while my health still wasn’t up to par.

The first thing I noticed when coming back was how much it hurt to stand. I normally simple task, now causing debilitating pain. No matter for how short of a time I was standing for, I always felt like I needed to brace myself against something, which isn’t ideal when you regularly have to stand up in your market stall.

Even simple tasks, like taking pictures of our market set up, hurt.

I tried resting a hand on our market tables, but they are just a tad too short to be able to provide any relief or proper support. Not to mention, I can’t just lean for dear life on someone else’s table when I’m walking around trying to say hello.

I thought it might have just been the first month of returning back to normality, after all, recovery isn’t linear. But October was no better. I found myself trying not to walk around and dreading whenever I got held up in conversation. And this blinding pain extended well outside of markets. Even being caught in the line of a grocery store or restaurant caused blinding pain.

The pain was becoming so disruptive to my life that I found myself asking a question: “Can I continue doing markets like this?”

The answer was simple. No.

I knew I could not continue to attend markets with this pain. I knew I couldn’t continue doing anything like this. Something had to change, so I began trying to figure out how to make my life easier.

I looked towards crutches, more specifically, forearm crutches. No bruised armpits, an increase in mobility, and a fresh start away from 2016 memories. Even so, it took me close to two months to finally take the leap and go to a pharmacy to see if there were any forearm crutches available.

When I went, there wasn’t. But there was a small selection of walking sticks available. So, I decided to try one.

The difference, immediately, was astronomical. And for the first time in far too long, I found myself smiling while standing up. A pain that was easily a 7 or 8 out of 10, now reduced to a mere 2 or 3.

I purchased one, and decided I would take it to our November markets to see how and if it helped me throughout the events, especially while talking to people and walking around the markets. It wouldn’t always be ideal for setting up and packing down, but if it could provide enough relief for me to be able to think straight while having a conversation, I was going to take it!

In the car - feeling excited and nervous for this change in my life.

In the week that led up to the markets, I found myself getting more and more nervous. I didn’t know what people were going to say, if anything at all. Looking back, I realise my worries were based off of my experiences in 2016, when my use of a necessary mobility aid was constantly being punished and criticised.

But despite my worries, I still used my walking stick around the markets. And the reactions I received was nothing like the harassment in high school.

Walking around or standing with the support of my walking stick, I was met with nothing but genuine concern and support. When I explained, people were immediately accepting of this new aid in my life. Some people didn’t say anything, and just immediately accepted it as something that is a part of my life now. And that made me equally happy!

In the limited time that I have used my walking stick, it has had a significantly positive impact on my life.

House MD era, anyone?

Though it isn’t the cure for my pain, it helps to ease it. It has given me more confidence to do the things I love again, and go out into the world without as much fear of struggling due to chronic pain and unexpected flare ups.

I know that not everywhere – and everyone – will be as kind. Afterall, I’ve already experienced the dark side of ableism in my teen years. And since using my walking stick in the everyday world, I have already received ‘those’ looks. The looks that immediately scream “aren’t you a bit too young for that?” or “do you really need that?”

But the more I use my stick, the less I worry and the better I feel.

I never could have imagined that a single walking stick could benefit my emotional and physical wellbeing, as well as my ability to continue crafting and doing the events I love, in such a monumental way.

Thank you for reading this week’s blog post, and for joining me in my everchanging artistic journey.

Do you use a mobility aid? Have you received positive community support? Does it help you to pursue the things you love? I would love to know your thoughts and experiences!

Kimberley (they/them)

Accessories by Antoinette