Don’t Mess With Our Chocolate

Don’t Mess With Our Chocolate

Go, now….act…

Last I checked, I have a voice…

These are my thoughts, my words, and my opinions. 

Perhaps this is just me musing, but last I checked, I don’t have spinach in my teeth   Not sure why everyone stares…whoops, wait for it…my wheelchair.  Why is it, that a typical bipedal human being can drink a beer, and smoke a cigarette, and when I do it, I get more stares than a movie star and the old ladies at my apartment complex turn and whisper?  Or when I used to hold hands with a special someone, I’d get an “aw, isn’t that cute?”  What is so alien about “someone like me” having been in love, or enjoying something that’s downright bad for me?  What is so special about me going out to dinner with a friend, or enjoying the cinema?

Why am I seen as different, when I bleed just as you do?  I smile to hide the pain.  I use humour to dodge bullets and deflect shoot them right back towards those who’ve aimed.  So yeah, I’m the crazy cat lady, I’m just on wheels. I’ve been fighting for the opportunity to live among humans as equally as I can since I was born.

If I received money from everyone who’s ever stared at me, I’d have enough to buy both a house and a van by now.  Seriously.  There are those that give selflessly so that folks like me can have something resembling a life; to them I tip my hat and say thank you.  To other folks who are disabled and living full lives?  Go get em….:)  I’m trying my best to get up that hill, one day at a time.

I once had a “friend” of mine, able-bodied, tell me “If I had to live like you, I’d kill myself.”  Literally.  Those very words.    My heart sank to the pit of my stomach, and I cried myself to sleep that night.

Now, I don’t cry.  I use humor and cynicism to dodge the bullets, or catch them and send ‘em back.

Yes, I have a physical disability.  But I have mental issues too.  Because of my physical disability, no one takes me seriously when I tell them I’m an assault survivor.  The treatment I got many years ago has diminished my faith in our mental health system.  There are no shelters for “women like me.”  I need counseling and therapy, but I don’t trust the system enough to listen, and I mean genuinely listen and take me seriously, as a woman, and as a human being.

Yes, I am in the process of getting help now.  Not because I want to, but because I need it.  I want to recover what shreds of life I have, and try to cope the best I can.  I’m going to graduate from college. Even if it takes me a while.

If you’re going to stare, at least you can pay me for the privilege :)

I’m literally going to have this printed on a t-shirt one day and see what kind of response I get.  Maybe that will get everyone thinking. 

Hi there, how are you   Welcome to my little slice of the web.  I’m not the best with introductions, so you’ll have to bear with me.  I’ve suppressed a lot of feelings for many, many years that I’ve actually forgotten how to write.  Yes.  I’ve actually forgotten about my first love.  So many thoughts on so many different subjects I don’t even know where to start. 

I don’t know how to silence the monologue in my head.  Should I silence it?  I take a risk by posting here.  I take a risk by posting my thoughts on the web.  As with anything, there is a chance it will be ripped apart, shredded, analyzed, you name it.

Now, about that t-shirt…

Disability Phobia-Something I wrote a while back

Something I wrote a while back:

I am the woman in the wheelchair who sits for four hours in a state clinic because private doctors who take Medicaid are dwindling.
I am the mother who has to bounce from pediatrician to pediatrician because no doctor I’ve found will treat my child as a human being.
I’m the person on crutches who has to miss a vital doctor’s appointment because their cab was late.
I’m the kid in school who got called names because the other kids thought I was different.
I’m the caregiver who has to deal with a despondant and/or combative person on a daily basis because it’s tougher to get services.  There are too many barriers and not enough advocates.
I’m the person who can’t get help because I “make too much” even though I don’t work.
I’m the person who sits at a table in a restaurant and gets more stares than a movie star because of how I eat/drink, and who I’m with.
I’m the person who gets stares of wonder when I tell them I smoke, drink, have sex, or what have you and have someone(s) in my life who love me.
I’m the person who has been institutionalized because I was considered “different” and I should be “locked away”
I’m the person who can finally live on their own, and in their own home because people cared enough to help me defy the odds.
I’m the sibling who fought against the other kids so that my disabled brother/sister could see that there are good people in the world besides our family.
I’m the activist who won’t remain quiet until all people with disabilities are seen AS PEOPLE rather than entities that are shuffled from place to place with rights just like everyone else.
I’m the person who can’t get into a woman’s shelter because there are none that are accessible.
I’m the person who has to be treated with eggshells because the support system has no experience dealing with a survivor that happens to be disabled, regardless of gender.
I am the person who has to fight for what others take for granted.
I am the person who doesn’t want pity, but gets it anyway because of my disability.
I am the person who has to say, “No thank you, I can do it myself.” and mean it, because people don’t seem to take me seriously.I wrote this, because I felt it need to be said.  Feel free to repost if you like, just credit me please.  Thanks.

Definitely one of my more interesting reads.

Blogging Against Disablism Day Is May 1, 2007!  I’m definitely in

To book, or not to book?

I’m debating a lot of things, but over the past few months/years I’ve thought about publishing a book.  But who would read it?  I’m just one set of wheels in a sea of brains. 

Wow, that was a long break….

I honestly forgot about this place, until I logged in….

I didn’t mean to be gone this long….