This might be the most personally significant picture I've taken in 12 years of being a photographer.
How it all started
It was August of 2015. Me and my boyfriend had just left our home country for what should have been a 9-month sabbatical, starting in Moscow, going through Russia and Mongolia by train, stopping for a while in Beijing and after that: wherever the wind would take us.
It was only day 3 of our journey and I was so excited. After one night in Moscow we jumped on the first train on the Trans-Mongolian Railway that brought us to Nizhny Novgorod. The night before we had seen a magnificent view of the Volga river. It was only day 2 of a huge adventure and I realized I had arrived in a totally unfamiliar world. The dimensions of the river alone, and the emptiness of the sides surrounding it - it hit me like a bang I had never been in a remote place like this, and this was just our first stop, 4 hours from Moscow!
Day 3
We decided to visit the Kremlin this day.
I remember being annoyed with my body failing me. The boy and father in front of me walked the stairs of the Kremlin like it was nothing. But I found it hard to walk those stairs. I have a long history with my feet failing me and I've always needed some extra support in my shoes to be able to walk acceptable distances and speeds. The interesting thing is: I have never gotten used to not being able to do something that is clearly so easy for others. It is too easy to compare myself to others when it is something as 'automatic' as walking. So I always do compare and I always know I'm struggling just a bit more than most others.
The stairs
The steps in the Kremlin were twice as high as the average steps in, for example, an average home. Also, ever part of the surface in the Kremlin was uneven. So I had trouble not hurting my feet, as I tried my balancing act to avoid the highest steps or most uneven surfaces. At some point I remember experiencing a burst of frustration: "Why is this so hard for me!"
I started to realize how well-kept streets and parks and attractions are in the Netherlands and how I would have to get used to walking like this ASAP.
The pain
Half-way our walk through the Kremlin I started experiencing pain. The pain got worse with every step. Since I'm used to experiencing pain, especially in the foot, I didn't really make a fuss about it. I just got frustrated and wanted to keep on going. I needed a lot of help getting down the stairs and after that a slope down to the street where my boyfriend knew a craft beer place where we could have a drink. Alcohol and pain: a good combination, I thought, and so we went on.
The foot cooled down after the walk and cramped and hurt and I didn't know how to even keep my face - that was some real pain there! But I drank my craft beer, wiggled my foot like I always do when in pain, and walked slowly back to our very temporary apartment, thinking: "this normally gets better after a few days, just take it easy".
How it all ended
What I know now is not what I could have known then: this pain that entered my foot on day 3 of a 9-month sabbatical would be permanent. I had somehow damaged a tiny but crucial bone in my left foot, would never again heal, and would apparently not be something that could be fixed by any surgeon alive today. I have already written quite a few stories about how we had to cancel most of our travel plans, how I would finally get a diagnosis, and how I am trying to overcome some of the challenges and do some traveling and walking again.
The father and boy
It's weird to see this picture of the boy I was so jealous of now. I hope he's fine and still jumping and running like he was that day. He will probably never know how envious I was of him, and how he in some way signifies that one moment that would end up influencing a lot of aspects of my life.
This is the first story in my new series 'Limited mobility | Unlimited stories'. I'm doing quite alright and don't feel (too) sorry for myself anymore. That doesn't mean I haven't had to adapt a lot of aspects of my life and still am learning about how to handle my limited mobility. It even took me a long time to admit I now am a person of limited mobility.
I'd like to see more 'average people' as opposed to celebrities and heroes share their struggles - we all have them. It's important we tell our stories. No-one is alone in this world, but we can only find each other if we share our vulnerabilities and truest selves.
All photography on steemit.com/@soyrosa is created and edited by me, Rosanne Dubbeld, 2005-2018. Contact me if you want to discuss licensing or collaborations on creative projects :-)