And so the wonderful tradition of me crying and hating myself on my birthday begins a day early.
I think it’s on nights when sleep alludes me, like tonight that I realize how alone I really am. Now this isn’t one of those late night ‘woe is me ’ kind of posts; but something that is really true once some thought is given to it.
I was born with cerebral palsy a disability that leaves me primarily wheelchair bound and not entirely in control of my body at all times. Let it be said that both of my brothers who are 22 and 12 respectively are entirely able bodied as are our parents. I’m an anomaly in a family that doesn’t exactly know how to relate to me.
A similar situation applies to my schooling; I attended a mainstream public school. I was a flamingo in a flock of pigeons; average people who under normal circumstances I probably would have been friends with; but most of my former classmates seemed kind of intimidated by the chair and the omnipresence of an aide or a helping hand. A few people were my life preserves in school but post high school have gone on to make new friends or lost touch.
I go to college now and I keep solely to myself finding group work or social interactions with those who I don’t have at least a first name familiarity with terrifying.
At almost 19, my social circle consists of my older brother and one of my cousins who I regard as a big sister. They consider me odd sometimes…most times actually but still try their best to understand a body and disability I myself have yet to fully comprehend. But living the burden of being the black sheep of the family can eat at your soul.
When people get married they get a wedding shower
When they have a baby they get a baby shower
So my question is:
Where’s my aunt shower
Or at least an instruction manual?!
Screw the hobbit you want an adventure that might kill you
Try calming twins under the age of two when the only thing in your arsenal are Barney songs
It is a miracle I haven’t shaken one of them
You think you know mean adults
I have twice caught my nephew Aiden sitting on his twin sister’s head as if saying
THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE!
To my brother, I never knew you having children would effect me so much
I briefly hated them
But now I someday hope to have somehow my own
That day was not about your god or their god. When god happens no one is right. These were times when we lied to our children; when you lie to children no one is right.
—Mike Rosen on 9/11 from his poem “When god happens” (via radio-active-glitter)
Age is an irrelevant societal born concept thought up to police ones soul to conform to the pressures of the status quo based on ones numerical value assigned at birth.
1. What is your favorite word?
2. What is your least favorite word?
3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
Sense of humor
4. What turns you off?
5. What is your favorite curse word?
6. What sound or noise do you love?
The laughter of my niece and nephew
7. What sound or noise do you hate?
My own laugh
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
Elementary school teacher
9. What profession would you not like to do?
President of the United States
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
Come on in, Samantha your mom has been waiting a long time. Also you won’t be needing the wheelchair here.