So, I've wondered since i can remember, how I got cerebral palsy. I've asked about a thousand teachers, but none ever actually answered. I tried the internet, but I couldn't find anything there, either.
A commercial just told me, though, that it typically happens during delivery. So, it's not my mom's fault, I guess. I don't know why that makes me feel so much better, to know that she didn't do it to me. Even if she had, it's not like she meant to, you know? Still, it makes me feel so much better, to think that it wasn't her fault, there was nothing she could do. Who knows, maybe she was even angry with the doctors, for whatever happened that caused it.
...okay, i doubt that. My mom doesn't remember my delivery, and I will never know anything that happened that day. When I was a little girl, I used to pretend that I knew, that it was snowing big fat flakes, the kind that will always make me think of Christmas, even when they fall in March. I used to pretend that it was snowing, and that the sky was that dark, deep blue, and the snow looked all blue and glowy, those big fat flakes were like drops of grey-blue sky falling down .
Silly. Back then, I pretended that it was snowing. Now, I'm pretending that she cares.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Friday, November 20, 2009
no quarter
My little sister is angry with me. Why? Because I moved the wreath she put in my office (without my permission, I might add) and it landed upside down. Seriously? She bitched me out, this little girl, because her stuff isn't where she wants it in my room. WTF?
More and more, I feel closed in, boxed up....claustrophobic. My office is too messy (and now it's full of toys and other people's Christmas presents) my clothes aren't hung straight, my bed isn't made well enough. I leave for work too late, I wake up too early, I'm too loud in the morning and too quiet at the dinner table. I work too much, I'm not getting enough hours, why am I awake so late? I need to get to bed, I need to stop writing. I feel like I'm fifteen all over again, with everything wrong and this awful, anxious feeling in my stomach. I'm lying about so much, condensing myself and hiding so many things, but still, still I am not acceptable. I can't wait to go to Michigan - my parents like me so much more when I'm just a nice concept, and they can't see all my imperfections.
More and more, I feel closed in, boxed up....claustrophobic. My office is too messy (and now it's full of toys and other people's Christmas presents) my clothes aren't hung straight, my bed isn't made well enough. I leave for work too late, I wake up too early, I'm too loud in the morning and too quiet at the dinner table. I work too much, I'm not getting enough hours, why am I awake so late? I need to get to bed, I need to stop writing. I feel like I'm fifteen all over again, with everything wrong and this awful, anxious feeling in my stomach. I'm lying about so much, condensing myself and hiding so many things, but still, still I am not acceptable. I can't wait to go to Michigan - my parents like me so much more when I'm just a nice concept, and they can't see all my imperfections.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
on the count of three!
...I just reached 28,100 words. Out of 50,000.
I don't think anyone I've talked to understands how big this is for me. I know other people have done nanowrimo, and finished, and had their 100 pages or so turned into a book. Awesome. And I know it's no big thing, to write 100 pages, to have those 50,000 words...but it is for me. I've always done my little online fanfictions, or my crappy stories that could be novels, only I never, ever finish them. But this? I have 55 pages, right now. And I will finish, I'm so close, I know what I want to say, it's just going to take time to say it. This is really happening, I am going to have a book of my words, to hold in my hand and share with the world.
There are no words to describe how beautiful this is to me. I have so much to say, so much that has been building and overwhelming, so much that needs to get out of me. And I can show it, and I can share it...my soul will be on pages, for anyone and everyone to see. I love this feeling. I can't say it enough, cannot possibly express the joy I feel, in knowing that each day I get to pour a little bit more of myself onto the pages. All I want is for someone to get it, to really, truly understand...and maybe i'm expecting too much, I don't know. This is so important to me, this is so vital and uplifting, and I want someone, anyone to be happy for me, to understand that I have not felt this overjoyed, and proud and complete and just euphoric in years, years and years and years. I guess that's just how we humans are - feelings aren't worth feeling if there is no one to reciprocate, and share with. Or, maybe that's just me.
I don't think anyone I've talked to understands how big this is for me. I know other people have done nanowrimo, and finished, and had their 100 pages or so turned into a book. Awesome. And I know it's no big thing, to write 100 pages, to have those 50,000 words...but it is for me. I've always done my little online fanfictions, or my crappy stories that could be novels, only I never, ever finish them. But this? I have 55 pages, right now. And I will finish, I'm so close, I know what I want to say, it's just going to take time to say it. This is really happening, I am going to have a book of my words, to hold in my hand and share with the world.
There are no words to describe how beautiful this is to me. I have so much to say, so much that has been building and overwhelming, so much that needs to get out of me. And I can show it, and I can share it...my soul will be on pages, for anyone and everyone to see. I love this feeling. I can't say it enough, cannot possibly express the joy I feel, in knowing that each day I get to pour a little bit more of myself onto the pages. All I want is for someone to get it, to really, truly understand...and maybe i'm expecting too much, I don't know. This is so important to me, this is so vital and uplifting, and I want someone, anyone to be happy for me, to understand that I have not felt this overjoyed, and proud and complete and just euphoric in years, years and years and years. I guess that's just how we humans are - feelings aren't worth feeling if there is no one to reciprocate, and share with. Or, maybe that's just me.
Friday, November 6, 2009
weird, right?
Lots and lots of nano-writing lately, which is great. Last week, though, Cass and I did our careers project together, and it got me thinking. Like, really, really thinking. And I think...I think I'm going into substance abuse social work.
Weird, right? I mean, the idea just kind of popped into my head, and nothing...nothing's really felt as right as this idea does. It makes sense, doesn't it? My mom's an alcoholic, so I'm going to go help people stop being alcoholics. And meth addicts, and speed freaks....I really love the idea of helping people break their chemical addictions, and then go on to lead healthy, happy lives, and be valuable members of society, and get back to the real world again. I knew I wanted to help people, I just wasn't sure how. But this is something I've always felt passionately about, and it's something I'd really like to pursue.
The weirdest part is how everyone's taking it. I thought my parents would be like 'no, no way in hell' y'know, because it can get dangerous, and stuff. The only thing my mom said was that she was pretty sure they like you to have been chemically addicted at some point or another...which, you know, I haven't. That doesn't mean I'm any less familiar with the psychology of addiction, though. My life, so far, has been trying to get my mom to see me in the shadow of her alcohol addiction. I have a lifetime of experience, don't I?
I don't know. My mind might change, the world might turn a different way....but right now, this is what I want to do, it is the direction I am taking...and it's something I'm pretty passionate about. Yay, me!
Weird, right? I mean, the idea just kind of popped into my head, and nothing...nothing's really felt as right as this idea does. It makes sense, doesn't it? My mom's an alcoholic, so I'm going to go help people stop being alcoholics. And meth addicts, and speed freaks....I really love the idea of helping people break their chemical addictions, and then go on to lead healthy, happy lives, and be valuable members of society, and get back to the real world again. I knew I wanted to help people, I just wasn't sure how. But this is something I've always felt passionately about, and it's something I'd really like to pursue.
The weirdest part is how everyone's taking it. I thought my parents would be like 'no, no way in hell' y'know, because it can get dangerous, and stuff. The only thing my mom said was that she was pretty sure they like you to have been chemically addicted at some point or another...which, you know, I haven't. That doesn't mean I'm any less familiar with the psychology of addiction, though. My life, so far, has been trying to get my mom to see me in the shadow of her alcohol addiction. I have a lifetime of experience, don't I?
I don't know. My mind might change, the world might turn a different way....but right now, this is what I want to do, it is the direction I am taking...and it's something I'm pretty passionate about. Yay, me!
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
satisfied
So, Nano started. I thought I would be scraping by, you know? I though I would be trying so hard to slam out my 1,667 a day (500 words is about a page. You do the math) But I'm actually almost a day ahead. Kennedy's story is just coming to me, and I am adoring it. I stopped tonight, not completely because I want to, but because I want to get a little Lost Song done tonight, and talk to my boyfriend.
I am so happy! I feel all giggly and silly, which is so strange. By definition, this is not a very good week at all. The things that have happened....it's just been awful, and sad. But Chad keeps calling me about dinosaur toast, and I keep on writing, and it's so hard to be sad, when I am so well-loved, and writing two wonderful stories, and feeling so inspired to write them. This is my element, and if I could capture the way I have felt this week...that would be the loveliest thing. I feel as though I have never really known what it was to be satisfied at night until now.
I am so happy! I feel all giggly and silly, which is so strange. By definition, this is not a very good week at all. The things that have happened....it's just been awful, and sad. But Chad keeps calling me about dinosaur toast, and I keep on writing, and it's so hard to be sad, when I am so well-loved, and writing two wonderful stories, and feeling so inspired to write them. This is my element, and if I could capture the way I have felt this week...that would be the loveliest thing. I feel as though I have never really known what it was to be satisfied at night until now.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Shut. Up.
of course, I want to be sick. Don't you know, I skip out on my vegetables and forget to take my vitamins on purpose? I love having a throat that hurts, and a chest that is aching, and a nose that is so, so sore from all the blowing and the dripping. I love people looking at me like I'm going to give them the swine flu when I cough, even though I cover my mouth and wash my hands constantly, to the point where they are now cracking with dryness.
I love this. I live for it.
My system keeps crashing on the weekends, like I pull through just until I have to, and then BOOM. I get home on Friday and I can't breathe, my head hurts, I'm feverish and my skin hurts, my very bones hurt. I am so stressed. I am so stressed, and I feel like something must be awfully wrong with me, because everyone else does this, they all go to school and have jobs and hobbies and succeed, they succeed and they don't die in the process, they don't drag themselves through the week to fall over, almost dead for the weekend. How much worse is it going to get when I go to university? When I'm a social worker? When I have kids, and a husband, and everybody wants me to make them happy?
I feel like such crap, and I hate that she's blaming me for it. I spent the whole day at Cassie's, blowing my nose in the bathroom and washing my hands obsessively, to make sure I didn't infect anyone there. I couldn't be home, though, I just couldn't do it. It's my fault that I'm sick, and I'm going to get the kids sick. Who wants to be sick? I just have a crappy immune system, I always have. My throat hurts, and I'm boogery. It sucks.
I love this. I live for it.
My system keeps crashing on the weekends, like I pull through just until I have to, and then BOOM. I get home on Friday and I can't breathe, my head hurts, I'm feverish and my skin hurts, my very bones hurt. I am so stressed. I am so stressed, and I feel like something must be awfully wrong with me, because everyone else does this, they all go to school and have jobs and hobbies and succeed, they succeed and they don't die in the process, they don't drag themselves through the week to fall over, almost dead for the weekend. How much worse is it going to get when I go to university? When I'm a social worker? When I have kids, and a husband, and everybody wants me to make them happy?
I feel like such crap, and I hate that she's blaming me for it. I spent the whole day at Cassie's, blowing my nose in the bathroom and washing my hands obsessively, to make sure I didn't infect anyone there. I couldn't be home, though, I just couldn't do it. It's my fault that I'm sick, and I'm going to get the kids sick. Who wants to be sick? I just have a crappy immune system, I always have. My throat hurts, and I'm boogery. It sucks.
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