English: ambidextrous


Six weeks ago I broke my right arm.  I am not left-handed.  I am not ambidextrous. For the first couple weeks I spilled on myself a lot, and most of that had nothing to do with pain killers.  I am simply dysfunctional with my left hand.

As my arm began to heal and the pain fog subsided, I became more and more stir crazy.  Not being able to use my hands to even write or type was killing me.  Even a simple text message took a day and a half to articulate.  I was losing my mind.

This week, with six more or so to go before I’m considered healed and released back into  the working wild, I not only took a shower on my own for the first time since Thanksgiving but managed to get the brace on and off by myself with my left hand.

Necessity is an excellent motivator.  When there are no other options but to figure out a way the strong among us will do so or go down trying.  With Hubby working a new job out of town several days a week, it was that or smell like rotting cabbage.  I won’t say it was particularly comfortable, but it felt better than sitting around whining about needing a shower.

Honestly I had no idea until this how much I just didn’t use my left hand to its full potential.  I do a lot of things two-handed, but never with as much precision as I’m learning now.  It’s amazing how much easier things seem now able to use both hands.

Little Man is showing signs of being ambidextrous, and his teachers want his mother to make him choose a side, citing the fate of his handwriting hanging in the balance.  It took me 29 years to learn to properly use my left hand, and this kid has it perfected.  I would rather see him have a little trouble making pretty letters than stunt his potential as a craftsman, musician, or surgeon.  I refuse to make a 6-year old choose what hand he holds his crayons in.

Let the ambidextrous revolution begin!

Go now, use two hands!