while this was written two years ago with the intent of it being posted when i achieved my goal (which i didn’t), i still wanted to share it. because i think it’s pretty funny, and i don’t think i’ll ever become fully left handed. i’m ok at it now, with like third grade boy handwriting, but that’s it. i haven’t taken it as seriously as i wanted to when i wrote this, and i honestly don’t think i ever will. so i might as well just post this for the funs.
the end kind of fizzles, but the middle actually does make me laugh out loud, soooo yeah.
I don’t think I would call it an obsession, but this journey started when I was in first grade, and I haven’t been able to shake it out of my head since. A boy who sat next to me had broken his right arm in a nasty rollerblading accident. He was left unable to write.
As a six year old, I was jealous of him for breaking a limb. Having a cast with the names of everyone you know on it is a highly coveted item in elementary school.
So I watched his every move, and secretly gathered the details of his story to figure what exactly happened so that maybe I could break my arm too, and also to see if he cried. Turns out all he did was slip on a wet leaf. But he did cry.
As I was eavesdropping on a conversation he had with our teacher, she asked him if he could try to write with his left hand (he was right handed), so he could do his homework. So he did.
He had to use his left hand and it was quite a struggle. Or so I would imagine.
My memory of him and his broken arm fade away after that because it really has nothing to do with me or my childhood.
But how hard could writing with your other hand be for someone who literally just learned how to write?
Pretty difficult, actually. After seeing him struggle, I began worrying what would happen to me if anything happened to my right hand. Would I be able to write anymore?
So this year, at age 19, I decided that my new year’s resolution is to become left handed, should anything happen to my right. And that means that if you’re reading this, that something dramatic has happened in my life, and I have finally become left handed.
It has been difficult, the struggle has been real. To fully immerse oneself to the life and culture of the left handed is a shock to the system.
You feel powerless, weak and angry.
Everything is backwards.
It’s like starting your life all over again.
Because in order to become left handed, one must begin again.
So I started with capital letters. ABCDE…. Filling paper after paper with letter after letter, I got better and better. I moved on to lowercase in no time, abcde…. Cursive was difficult, but I got through it. I moved on to numbers, the biggest struggle. 3s and 5s became Es and Ss, and I constantly drew out backward 4s. But I knew that all the practice would pay off, and that I would come out stronger in the end.
Next, I began to draw. Circles, squares, triangles. Anything I could think of, I drew, because that is what I had to do in order to gain the fine tune motor skills of a left hander.
Throughout the writing, I also spent time doing chores with my left hand. Brushing my hair, my teeth. Eating, using a computer mouse, using my phone. Things like that.
My goal was to be able to write legibly with my left hand and be at or around the same speed as I could with my right. And I am proud to say that I have achieved this status. I can take notes just as effectively and as fast with my left hand as I can my right.
I made it. And now I am both handed. And I am so happy.
I like being right handed.
Because it makes me different.
From left handed people.