People and butterflies have a lot in common I suspect that if a person were to meet the child or adolescent that they once were on the street neither person would recognize the other. Humans experience just as much change within their lives as butterflies. Our ideas and thoughts develop so many nuances during our lifetime that it may be difficult at times to see how a person got to their current position in life. I am struggling to figure that out for myself at the moment, a quarter life crisis, I suppose you could call it.I did not realize this was an actual term but apparently it is real enough that Wikipedia has an article on it. Although even they admit it is not their best entry, read at your own risk.
I cannot change the bulk of my situation right now so instead of focusing on the things which seem right now to be insurmountable I have decided to focus on the smaller details which I can influence more immediately. My bike ships tomorrow so it should be here next Tuesday at the latest taking into account the impending Labor Day holiday. As well as getting the bike and the miniature horse (which I am going to have to wait another week on while all the stupid paperwork gets filed ) I’m also planning on refurnishing my bedroom a piece at a time because I have had the current stuff since I was 13 and I didn’t even get to pick it out then. I’m doing this with the idea that it I change enough small things eventually the big things will change as well. I hope I’m right anyway, in the meantime there is hope in the butterfly.
As I stated in the previous post I am disabled. I’m old enough and cognizant enough to be a fairly autonomous adult, at least that’s what I work on people acknowledging, it’s a difficult concept for some of my family to grasp though.Since I am older now and she has survived raising my mom has become something of an impromptu mentor for people with school-age disabled children. Recently she befriended a woman who has an elementary school age little girl with cerebral palsy which is significantly more severe than mine. I do not know how old she is chronologically yet because I haven’t met her but she has the approximate mental level of a five year old. The special education teachers at her school (a school which I too had the misfortune to attend) has made very few if any attempts to teach her to even recognize her alphabet, a task which her mother believes is well within her capabilities. It bothers me that somebody who is supposed to be an “educational professional” thinks that just because a child is nonverbal as this woman’s child is means that they are incapable of learning even the rudiments of communication. I had thought that the first thing they taught special education teachers in college was to leave preconceived ideas of how people learn at the door. If it isn’t it should be.
There is one organ within the body the even doctors will admit to knowing very little about, the appendix. Everybody has one or has a scar to mark where it was. But who ever thought to call it an appendix? For all we know about its function it could have been named anything, epilogue, afterthought, addendum, endnote. Somehow it does not seen fair that an organ which we know so relatively little of can kill us. Maybe that is why some now obscure medical professional chose to label this biological Gonzo of an organ an appendix, if it had been named anything else people might not have taken the potential danger it can pose them seriously. So the appendix may its official debut in medical terminology. At least that’s the closest explanation I have come across to explain the unexplainable. I bet you never thought you would see a picture of an appendix and a reference to a Jim Henson Muppet in the same blog.
I am not sure why but I feel like I spend most of my life waiting for things to happen. I’m not talking about just the relatively large things then everybody waits for, like moving out, or getting a job. I have to wait for even the smallest things to be done. I can’t decide when I get up on a daily basis. Because I have cerebral palsy I have a personal care attendant that comes to the house during the week. This is not saying that the schedule is totally inflexible, it’s not, but it is nowhere near choosing to hit the snooze button and rolling over. I don’t think I would mind waiting for the bigger stuff in life if I didn’t have to wait for the tiny details as well. I fully expect that by the time everything is said and done I will have driven everyone I know thoroughly insane.If you know me I apologize in advance for myself. It you don’t, just this once be thankful realized that not everyone reads this blog knows much about me beyond what I choose to write here. I have recently discovered a nifty program that WordPress has begun supporting which looks up related pictures and articles based on the text of the entry. Therefore, for anybody interested, I leave you with an article on cerebral palsy found through Wikipedia. Just in case you’re wondering, the picture was captured with the search engine as well, it’s not anyone I know personally.
I have heard that phrase so many times I think I’m sick of it. Perhaps I’m looking at things from the wrong angle though. Yes I just got broken with, and yes some days it hurts worse than a free bleeding knife wound to the gut. But I know it wasn’t my fault . He told me that before he left. I can take comfort in that. I also take comfort in the knowledge that I still have my best friend. This man is my rock. In the past three years has seen me through some pretty rough things which involved more emotional upheaval than I care to think about. He is still here so all cannot be lost. About two weeks before my house of cards decided to tumble something else happened. My mom and I happened to stumble across a newly formed local program whose aim is to teach disabled people how to drive a horse and cart, something I’ve wanted to learn most of my life. Long story short, I’m now fishing for things to occupy my time while I wait for the money to come so I can officially call this beautiful miniature horse mine. Plus I’m finally getting a bike I can user after 12 years of wishing for one. So my life is not destroyed, just reordered.
So this is my life. I’m in love with a man and neither one of our lives is as happy as you would think. Love is a dark alley with glass to walk across with only the faintest glimmer of light in a distant window and you know that if you can reach that window all the scrapes,bruises, cuts and scars will have been worth it, if you can just get out of this godforsaken alley. Someone I know once said that success was often achieved by having the courage to hang on after everyone else has let go.Love is believing in someone even when everybody, including them, tells you to give up and cut your losses and move on. Guess what? I’m just plain stubborn. Cutting my losses is not an option. I can’t follow you down that dark road but I can let my belief and love for you be that small steadfast light in the window to guide you back to me. Fight your battles, slay your monsters, come back to me if you’re able. I’m strong enough to wait. Love is not pretty or easy the way its made to be for children’s books and Disney films. Love is more than just a ring, or words before clergy, or any other number of symbols. Love can be someone’s name whispered in the dark. You will have that from me forever A broken hallelujah indeed. You have been my strength, let me return the favor.