On My First New Year's Resolution

On Beauty in Foxholes

A few weeks ago, I was asked how my disabilities affect my spiritual life. I have had trouble since then coming up with enough literary meat for a post. However, because of the horror in Newtown, I think a lot of us who do not consider ourselves prayerful people have looked up and asked “why?” My grandpa commonly repeated the old cliche,“There is no atheist in a foxhole.”  It has never rung more true to me than in the last couple of days. Our nation has been forced, once again, by a deranged young man into a proverbial foxhole and we’re all praying together that something will make this violent trend stop.

I think many people in the country will see the capability to end this violence in God. Some will see promise in Buddha, some in Jesus and some in Mohammad. Goodness should be looked for wherever people can find it; I am glad religion is helpful. Without it, the world would probably slump into a permanent state of unwavering depression.   

I do not want to offend anyone but my disability has in my opinion, made organized religion, almost unnecessary for me. I know that there are more good forces than bad forces in this world. I have spent countless moments in my life helpless. The number of people who have gone out of their way to help me and improve my day is immensely greater than the number of creeps who have attempted to use my condition to their advantage.  There were dozens of heroes in Newtown on Friday, protecting those innocent babies, and one sick bastard with a weapon. That ratio does not surprise me because I have seen it my entire life. For every annoyed onlooker who rolls their eyes while I struggle up the stairs, there are five who want to carry me. For every person has bullied me, there has been someone who couldn’t fathom their motivation.  Human kind is largely kind. When humans are evil, I pray. I pray not because of any specific credence but because I want to be able to see the joy in the world soon. When I send those prayers, it usually doesn’t take to long for me to get a text from a friend, or see a neighbor assisting another neighbor. Evil is the rarity, and good is the rule. Where was whatever being I pray to on Friday? It certainly not in Connecticut, but I believe that because most of us are loving and loveable, we can overcome this and we can see beauty again. That faith in human beauty, I hold onto like some hold onto the existence of God.   

(A video) On Inspiring

On the Shooting in Connecticut

President Obama spoke very eloquently about the disgusting,senseless,horrific crime that took place in Newtown,CT yesterday, which ended the lives of twenty  precious children and eight good adults.He said "These neighborhoods are our neighborhoods and these children are our children." We have make sure this cannot happen again. Twenty kids will never know what it means to have a best friend; they'll never know what it means fall in love. Forty parents won't get to see their babies go to school dances or graduate from college;they'll never kiss them good night again. As Americans we have to be willing to abide by any law that may spare people that inconceivable pain. We have to talk about mental-illness out loud and deal with its effects without shame.I have great admiration for the school teachers who protected and comforted their beloved students, and for the emergency response professionals who cared for people at this terrible scene. My heart is with our kin in Newtown. Hopefully, this is as bad as it gets. Hug your loved ones a little tighter this holiday.

On The Dangers of Mistrust of Authority

If one were to observe charts and graphs about Guatemala’s economy, without visiting the nation or surveying its people, they could be convinced that Libertarians are absolutely right.  Each year from 1960 to 2006 Guatemala lowered tax-rates, unemployment was below three percent and their government is was not indebted to even one other country. What that observer cannot learn from charts and graphs though, is that those employed people were uneducated, underpaid,   starving, and often without clean water. The saddest part is, the citizens of Guatemala had the opportunity change their circumstances, and chose not to do so. They are terrified of giving any of their personal revenue to the government.      

In 1999, the Consulta Popular bill (C.P.), which would give indigenous (namely, Mayan) Guatemalans equal social and political rights, was voted down almost as quickly as the tax reforms, which would allow the government to provide citizens with clean water and decent roads, were three years earlier. As a result, Guatemala has the lowest tax rates of any established democracy and those  who are in charge today struggle to provide people with their most basic rights.  (Blake, 2008)

The aforementioned CP was not just rejected by European Guatemalans, but by the Mayans themselves.  Most readers will find this counter-intuitive  but neither group has any trust in authority.  The European Guatemalans were afraid of loss of power, and the Mayans were insulted by the proposal. Though it guaranteed them the right to vote, and buy or own property, it did nothing to stop the discrimination that occurred in the private-sector, or in schools and did not impose a law that would force businesses to pay all employees equally, regardless of race. The Mayans had fought too fiercely to accept less than they deserved. (Carey, 2004)

Though it has long been run democratically, for years the Guatemalan government was simply too big. Not only was it controlling but there were also only one group with any power. The CACIF was a political party similar to the communist party, but was led by the owners of two corporations, who catered to their own.   Like many corrupt governments, they owed their power to the wealthy elite, and so, like many corrupt governments, they ignored the poor.  A result, in 1944, the "October Revolutionaries", and their leader, Juan Arbez staged a coup, and overthrew the oligarchy, or organizationally-run government. They established liberal economic policies, which benefited   and greatly strengthened the civil and labor rights of the urban working class and the peasants.  This movement seems like an occurrence the United States would celebrate. During the 1950’s, however the US was right in the middle of what is now referred to as The Red Scare and anything that resembled communism was thought to be evil.  The U.S. government ordered Central Intelligence to stop what they called, Guatemala’s “communist revolt", and placed unbelievably strict sanctions on Guatemala, and even stopped funding American fruit companies that were growing their products in Guatemala. The United States’ extreme action was a major component in Guatemalans mistrust of their leaders because it led to a wider division between the underprivileged Mayans, and wealthy citizens of a European decent.   Unlike in many minorities in other countries, the Mayans, who are very obviously discriminated, against were and are almost forty-seven percent of the ­population.  The majority of this group was sick and tired of being ignored. They staged uprising that led to a bloody civil-war that lasted thirty-six years, from 1960-1996.

As was stated earlier, the year the war ended a tax reform, which would only raise taxes by four and a half percent, was proposed and voted down.  Because there were no checks and balances in place, all Guatemalans were fearful of returning to the oligarchy that was in place before 1944, and refused to give the government the chance to do so. Why did the elite fear the kind of government that had made their lives so easy? They had seen what is possible when running one’s own business, and wanted that ability.

Fortunately, in 2003, a PAN candidate, Oscar Berger was elected. Berger is a moderate, who was able to win the support of European Guatemalans by promising to enforce a US-like market reform, and won the Mayan vote by promising a stronger equal rights bill. In 2006, that bill was passed, and so were the exact tax reforms proposed at the end of the Civil War in 1996.

Berger’s willingness to pass these bills and the citizens’ willingness to trust him are certainly a turn for the better. Enforcing these laws however, has proven to be very difficult. No equivalent the Internal Revenue Service exists in Guatemala and tax evasion has become a major problem.  Racism still is rampant, and deep. European Guatemalans make excuses not hire Mayans, despite the fact that the discrimination is technically illegal. Both issues, according to outside economist and sociologists, are predicted to be issues for a long time.   

It appears that European Guatemalans are currently in a situation similar the one that the Caucasian Americans were during the Civil-Rights, and Women’s Liberation movements of the 1960s. They may not like the government is asking them to open their minds, and are attempting to find ways to keep them closed. The U.S. has not come far enough since the sixties, but we have made remarkable progress. Every generation has become more and more tolerant, and the laws put in place to protect African-Americans and women were certainly a huge part of that. I believe the same can and will happen for Mayans in Guatemalan. That is why I agree with the statement, “the evolution of tax policy and indigenous rights show that, slowly but surely, democracy is improving the lives of all Guatemalans.”     

Works Cited

Blake, C. (2008). Politics of latin america. (2nd ed., pp. 298-318). New York, New York: Houghton Mifflin.

Carey, D. (2004). The struggle continues: Consciousness, social movement, and class action,. Latin american Prospective. , 31(6), 69-95. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/4141608

    

On People to Whom You should Pay Attention

disabilityandIdo.blogspot.com

On Shame

I do not recall the last day I woke slowly. Lately, I jerk awake embarrassed by something I said the previous day, or even weeks ago. I have almost always lived in  fear of disappointing, boring, hurting or offending others. This is difficult for me. I am  a very opinionated person, and my sense of humor does, at times, have a sharp edge. My loved ones know that about me, and accept it. I, however, struggle daily to accept it about myself. I have had full-fledged panic-attacks over jokes or comments I  made. I have done a lot of apologizing, a lot of lying, and I have even broken my bank, terrified that people will get sick of me and simply exit my life.  I have spent many years denying that this had anything to with my physical challenges. I thought that this was a totally unrelated disability which I just happened  to be unlucky enough to be born with as well. That is fallacious.  The truth is, there is a constant tape playing in my head telling me that my friends and family are doing favors for me by dealing with every issue my disability presents. Because I believe that I am indebted to them in some way, I also believe that I have no right to express myself in ways they may dislike.  The scarier aspect is that for a long time, I believed that who were ashamed to be seen with me, or irritated by my slow movement, had good reason for the feelings. That I wasn't allowed to be hurt by their bigotry, because it was natural… Who would not be humiliated by me? I was.  In the last year, I have made great efforts to learn to ignore the aforementioned psychological tape.  My life has improved drastically. There are days, weeks, and months, though in which I constantly have to make the choice to rise above those thoughts.    

I am blogging about this because I assume I am not the only person with this problem. I want people to know that no matter how hard you work to silence  that lying little bastard in the dark corner of your mind, sometimes, you are going to wake up to his irreverent screaming. This is not a permit to engage in the behavior that you did back when he controlled your life. It is not a pass to act self-destructive, or ashamed. The dear people who proved him wrong over and over again by sticking with us deserve better than that. I’m better than that. You’re better than that. 

A video answering a readers Questions about CP

On That for which I Am Thankful

November has been a wonderful, dramatic, funny, tumultuous, month. This year has been the same. I thought it would be nice to make a list of the things for which I am thankful, beginning with the readers of this blog. Thank you, sincerely, for taking interest in my writing. This is the biggest compliment you could pay me!

The list continues, only the first two are in any particular order as they are paramount. I am thankful:
1. For my mother, who has the uncanny ability to make everyone who enters her home feel special and who makes me feel important to her, every day. My father, whose sense of humor is unparalleled. My sister, whose  drive and dignity is something we all should emulate, and my extended family and family-friends, who are more than generous, more than hilarious and more than loyal.

2.  For my friends who forgave me, fought for me, and fretted with me during all the frightening times this year. For the same friends who hugged, highfived and hollered with me when good things happened.

3. For  my country, and our ability to elect the leader we feel are right for the job. The fact that 2012 included a close  presidential-election and nobody rioted in the streets. The fact that the majority of Americans have decided that people who make degrading comments about racial minorities, women and the underprivileged, should not have a seat in DC, and the fact they have also decided that the fact that I was born with and acquired  disabilities should have no bearing on whether or not I am able to see a doctor.

4.  For the courageous people who risk their lives to defend the country I just wrote about.

5.  For my education, and my ability to become educated.

6.  For My health. However fleeting it may be, it could be worse, and I am so grateful for every breathe. I am even more grateful for all the breathes my loved ones take.

7. That I found the strength to forgive myself, which is a decision I have to make daily. Beating up on yourself becomes vane, and difficult for your loved ones to handle. It feels uncontrollable, but is really selfish.

8. For all the laughs, kisses, gaffs, and gifts, that have already occurred and will occur in the remainder of this life-changing year.

9. For Peace, LOVE, and ice-cream.

On The Magic of Writing.

I have been a horrific writer lately. I’m feeling ditz-like and distracted. Everything I attempt to write is choppy and lackluster. The cage of writer’s block is a terrible place for someone like me to be. Writing has long been my easiest form of communication. Ain’t nothing to do it but to do it, though. Here I go!
See…. I could not even think of a less cliche metaphor than cage? So much failure.
My personal troubles aside, it’s National Novel Writing Month. In November, thousands (millions?) of writers attempt to compose their own novels in 30 days. Using the hyperlink I just posted, authors are able to log in, clock their progress and encourage one another, as well read one another’s rough drafts. I have participated thrice and finished a rough draft once. Whether or not one finishes, in my view, is irrelevant. Setting this forces a person to write something other than Facebook posts ,tweets and blog updates. This is great, especially if you fancy yourself a writer of fiction. The reason I wanted to discuss National Novel Writer Month is this. There is a “Young Writers” section. Kids can partake, too! I urge parents to raise dreamers; by extension I urge them to raise writers. Imagining different worlds or beautiful events that could occur in this world, has gotten me through so many tough times. Dreaming about beauty and recording those dreams makes you believe in beauty. When your life is feels so ugly there is no beauty to be seen, writing down those feelings releases the author. Documenting pain helps one to feel like it’s acknowledged. After that, the beauty reappears They can dream again. Only good can come from having more people who see beauty even in ugliness.

On My Thoughts & Prayers (a video, watch it)

And now you're all glad you don't have curly hair.

On Ableism, A Term That is New to Me.

I want to blog about “ableism” because it is a term with which I have just recently become familiar, but a phenomenon that greatly affects the disabled community of which I am obviously a member.  As a disclaimer, I will remind my readers that I speak for myself. If you think my thoughts are stupid, please, feel free to let me know by clicking here, but do not paint all disabled people with my brush. If they knew enough about me, they might dislike the color.

Anyway, like a good student I will begin by defining ableism for you, or rather I will copy paste a couple definitions here.  Hey, this isn't a real assignment.

Wikipedia says:

the assumptions underlying the medical model of disability amongst many clinicians, the "ableist" societal world-view is that the able-bodied are the norm in society, and that people who have disabilities must either strive to become that norm or should keep their distance from able-bodied people. A disability is thus, inherently, a "bad" thing that must be overcome. The ableist worldview holds that disability is an error, a mistake, or a failing, rather than a simple consequence of human diversity

  Merriam Webster says:

Discrimination or prejudice against individuals with disabilities

I suppose I had not heard of the term before the year or so because, previously I had just called it asinine.

 In any case, if a partially-skilled writer combined these two definitions they could say:

Ableism is the misguided attitude that people with disabilities must either attempt to be exactly like those without disabilities or stay away from them, which leads to discrimination against the disabled. …Right? I tried!

 Notice, in my explanation, I did not comment on whether or not my disability was a mistake.  It is pretty apparent to me that it was. A medical professional fucked up...No doctor ever wants to  deprive a newborn of oxygen. That’s an error, plain and simple.  This doesn't mean it wasn’t what people call a happy accident, but I do not think I am turning on my fellow disabled people by admitting that I do not subscribe to the idea that near death experiences are meant to be.

  

I’ll also admit to having ableist history. I have spent most of my almost 24 years of life striving to do everything able-bodied women do. I have run out of breathe trying to keep up with able-bodied friends and family. I wanted to accomplish those things, I had to work hard. I can be pretty sluggish and without my CP I’m sure I would have been lazier.  One could make a case (as I do) that striving to be like everyone else did me some good. That is, in my mind, one of the many reasons I consider my disability a happy accident.

Where I think ableism does become a problem is that  makes those of us who live with disabilities ashamed. Phrases like “My son has Autism, but you can hardly tell,” and “Cathleen has CP, but she’s totally normal,” put into our heads that a condition that we can do absolutely nothing to change, is something we should hide.  Struggling to camouflage the atypical parts of oneself every day certainly does psychological damage… It certainly makes it more difficult to believe you are capable of achievement. Therefore, what society dreads, they create. Many people with disabilities are too embarrassed to put themselves out there.  Beyond that though, it lies to us. The traits that disabilities bring people are not shameful, they are unique…. And in a world where everybody is attempting to set themselves apart from the crowd that is a wonderful thing! Perhaps, the others are jealous?

On Disconcerting Trends (A video post because I'm sleepy)

I am aware that I say "I want" far too many times in this video.

On the Danger of Extreme Politics

For several decades most of Latin America was ruled by right-wing leaders who believed that people who could not own their own land or run their own business, did not deserve money. There are certainly leaders in the US who believe that also, but Central and South America lack the checks and balances that North America has in place. Thus, the Latin American middle class was wiped out. The rich not only controlled the money, but were the only people spoken to or about by politicians.  Understandable mistrust of the right led to the Latino community’s extreme and misguided reliance on leftists.  

Today, all of the major newspapers are abuzz with information about the recent election in Venezuela. Hugo Chavez, the current president of the country is a perfect example of what Kurt Weyland refers to in his article "The Rise of Latin American’s Two Left Turns”, as the wrong left.  He was elected as a champion of the poor but his government has become close- minded, nationalistic and forceful.   Venezuelans fell in love with the Chavez led populist movement, promising the underprivileged citizens of his country representation in a world that had been ruled by the wealthy since the Cold War. Unfortunately, this former military commander quickly became the leader of a gigantic and oppressive government. (Luhnow, 2012) He and his followers are not the only power-sick Latin-American government. Bolivia and Honduras and Ecuador followed a similar pattern and therefore have the same problem.  What corrupted Chavez? Weyland blames the fact that Venezuela is a Rentier state. He argues that the ability to control other countries access to resources like oil has ruined Chavez and his devotees. The good news for Latinas though, is that non-Rentier states in the region  like Chile, El Salvador,  Brazil have had to adopt a new left,( called neoliberalism) one that is open-minded, internationalist and smaller. Venezuelans will have a chance to follow this trend in this election, by choosing Henrique Capriles, a centrist who refuses to ignore the benefits of market reform.    Weyland and the writers  he references in his article agree that neoliberalism would be the best alternative for nations like Venezuela. Jorge Castanada summarizes their point beautifully, in his article “Latin America’s Two Left Turns” when he wrote, “With all the talk of Latin America's turn to the left, few have noticed that there are really two lefts in the region. One has radical roots but is now open-minded and modern; the other is close-minded and stridently populist. Rather than fretting over the left's rise in general, the rest of the world should focus on fostering the former rather than the latter -- because it is exactly what Latin America needs.”  (Castanada, 2005)

It is mentioned above that Weyland blames Rentier States for the corruption of many populist movements. That is a meaningless statement, unless populist movement and Rentier state are clearly defined. A populist movement is a movement from the people for the people of a nation, usually protesting something being done by a group in power. The American Civil rights movement of the 1960’s, for example, was a populist movement, protesting the unfair treatment of African-Americans. Populist movements can archive great things if they are led by individuals who keep the best interest of both the minority and the majority in mind. Sometimes however, the oppressed feel so hopeless that they forget to examine the values of those in charge . That is where trouble can begin.  A Rentier State is a country or region that has something of value to other countries or regions, such as oil, water or other natural resources.  Countries like this are prone to more tumultuous boom and bust cycles than non-Rentier states. Predictably, if the demand for whatever resource is being rented decreases, so does the nation’s income.  Another major issue for Rentier states is that their economy often becomes so dependent on the rent from other nations that they do not diversify their interests. This makes it very easy for corrupt governments to take advantage of their people, because they have very few ways to make a living. (Yates, 1996)

 In Latin America during the Cold War the combination of the burning desire for a populist movement and the bust-boom tendencies of Rentier states, proved to be a dangerous combination for many of their nations.    The poor justifiably felt slighted and consequently, leaders like Chavez, including Evo Morales of Bolivia and Raefel Correa, in Ecuador, were able to rob them as soon as they realized they were sitting on goldmines. The underprivileged of Latin America were so desperate to be spoken to in the political arena that they would vote into power, whoever took the time to do so.  Tragically, the majority of citizens were silenced more by this movement than the one that spurred their righteous anger.  (Weyland, 2009)

Though benevolent, ethical heads of government certainly can be advantageous, it is probably more likely Brazil, Uruguay and Chile were just lucky.  The fact that they do not have as many natural resources to lend the rest of the world meant that their leaders had no choice but to strengthen the middle class.  For instance, Brazil has learned to use corn to create ethanol, which provided jobs for countless Brazilians, however the government is not big enough to demand all their profits. Therefore, citizens are able to earn money in basically any way that they wish and a middle class has been created.  Creation of the middle class has, according to the Latino Opinion Survey (LAOPS), cited by Mitchell Seligson in his article “The Rise of Populism in Latin America”, decreased feeling of inequality among both Brazilians and Chileans.  (Seligson, 2007)

Both Weyland and Castanada believe the biggest difference between the “right” left and the “wrong”   left is the willingness to accept the free market. They agree that that the only way to keep both the government and the private-sector from becoming too controlling is to give both entities some influence. Giving one or the other too much power promotes inequality. If one has all the power, it will have all the responsibility. As a result, it will fail.  When economies fail the rich never suffer as greatly as the poor.  For too many generations poor Latin-Americans have suffered. It seems that the only way to stop that suffering is to put a centrist in power. Intriguingly, the 2011 LAOPS shows that Latin -Americans are starting to agree.  It reported that ten percent more Latinos are in favor of market reform than in 2006. This indicates a moderate shift to the right. Hopefully, the corruption of the Venezuelan and Bolivian left-wing governments will not lead to the empowerment of the right-wing. Eventually it has to become obvious that extreme political thinking, left or right, is always wrong.

In a perfect world, the fairest of candidates would be elected, but that never happens.  No matter where they are from, people vote for the candidate who promises them the most. This leads to massive corruption in both the government and business. Tragically, those without money have a very difficult time being treated well in either arena. Nobody powerful is in their pockets. In order for inequality to sincerely lessen in Latin America and around the globe, we all have to stop speaking for ourselves and those similar to us, and start trying to give everyone a voice. If and when that happens, government and business will respect one another. Only then will the poor truly have a chance. Of course, not everyone will have an easy time earning money, but it will be possible for them. Underprivileged people do not want a free ride; they just want the privileged to acknowledge that they have been stuck in their unlucky lots for far too long.

WORK CITED

Luhnow, D. (2012, Oct 7). Venezuelans turn out pick a leader.Wall Street Journal, p. A8.

Weyland, K. (2009). The rise of latin america's two left turns. Forgiven Affair, 146-166.

Seligson, M. (2007). The rise of populism in latin america.Forgien Affair, 18(7), July 7.

Yates, D. (1996). The theory of the rentier state. In Oil dependencey (6 ed., Vol. 102, pp. 1-17). Retrieved from http://students.washington.edu/hattar/yates.pdf

 

20 Things you probably Didn't Know about the Writer of this blog

I was told to do this by other bloggers. I worked hard to try and make them things even my best friends didn't know. :)

20 things you probably don't know about me:

1. I think most lemonade is too sweet. That's weird because I have a major sweet tooth, I just like sour lemonade.

2. When I was really young, my sister and I were ridding the scrambler.  I fell over and my head went behind  her back. I have been in only one situation that was more terrifying.

3. Neither my mom nor I enjoy the circus very much.

4. I have my debit card number, expiration date and security code memorized.

5. Peeps candy grosses me  out.

6. My nose is always cold to the touch.

7. I believe in Karma to a ridiculous extent. For example,  If I see someone  crying in the bathroom and don't comfort them and then fall later in the day, I blame myself for the fall. I don't hold other people to this standard, however.

8. I have no interest in shopping unless I'm with someone who loves it. There is so much decision making involved. My friends who love shopping will often make these decisions for me.

9. My dad used to carve pumpkins with a jigsaw  for me.

10. I can't study effectively with the door shut, unless music is playing.

11. I have personal opinions about  each of the women on the show the Real Housewives of New Jersey. I watch the show by myself though because it's level of trashiness is embarrassing, and I am embarrassingly invested.

12. Energy drinks give me panic-attacks. I could drink two pots of coffee and not have one so it's not the caffeine.

13.  I was bullied very badly the Halloween I was eight. As a result, I did not go trick-or-treating. My dad took me to see "Remember The Titans". It's still my favorite movie.

14.  I know several boxing moves.

15. When I am bored I google really random stuff. A few weeks ago, I memorized the preamble of the US constitution.

16. I have learned to stop ranking my friends.

17. I have a slight obsession with knowing where common phrases (IE don't throw the baby out with bath water)  came from. I also really am interested in how people from different areas talk. The last interest arose because I had a Linguistics professor who could imitate any accent with crazy accuracy.  It was so cool.

18. When I watch a movie I really like, I want to watch it again the next day, but I always get bored halfway through the second viewing. It's annoying.

19. I have a gap between my two front teeth. When I am thinking, I run my tongue up and down it, subcutaneously  This just happened.

20. I always say that the only two things I know I am good at are writing and talking. The truth is, I am dissatisfied with most of what I write and say. I am so lazy, I don't want to rewrite things more than five times. And I know that if I constantly correct what I'll  appear to lack confidence. 

On an Age Old Question

It is a question those of us with Cerebral Palsy and other chronic conditions have all been asked at least a few times:  “If you could, would you cure your disability?”  I personally find this question a tad irritating. Curing my disability has never really been an option so it is not really something I consider often.  Regardless, I know people wonder what my answer is and I will use this post as an attempt to give you one.  This answer is complex, so bear with me.  

First, I want to emphasize that I am not miserable. I have other physical and psychological conditions that cause me much more strife than my Cerebral Palsy. I am so awesome at functioning with tight muscles, spastic hands and pitiful balance that I even surprise myself.  CP has not stopped from doing most things most twenty-three year-olds do, and I think it has even provided me with a few extra opportunities. My quality of life is very high.

Second, I want to say I am so blessed to feel as loved as I do every day. My disability has been the reason for my meeting several absolutely magnificent people and experiencing several unique occurrences.  Without those wonderful humans and happenings, there are a lot of unpleasant events I may not have made it through.  

   This is usually the part where a writer would answer their readers. The readers would ignore the sloppily composed disclaimers above and focus solely on this paragraph in which the writer tells the God’s honest truth. I ask you though, do not do that. I said those things first because they’re the most important. I would never want to erase all the goodness that my CP has brought to my life. I do however think that 23 years is enough time to struggle with ridiculous stereotypes, awkward falls, gawking onlookers, abnormal sexual experiences, unnecessary pain, and unintended loneliness.   Now, CP is brain damage so a cure would most likely mean a high-risk operation, one I would probably choose not to have. Most of us with disabilities have had our fill of intense surgery. Unlike a lot of my fellow CPers however, if I could pop a pill and be abled-bodied, I would. I’m not proud of my disability for reason that I did not already list.   I am glad to have lived with it because I think it helped me become more patient and less judgmental than I would have been without it, but I didn’t earn anything and it’s a nuisance.  Wouldn’t you want to get rid of a nuisance if you had a simple way to do so? I will most likely never get that chance though, and that’s fine. I am capable, loved and happy…. Eight days out of ten.     There are many people walking around, who cannot say that.  

On Globlization

The Strait of Hormuz is a  small body of water that has recently been making big headlines. The US and Iranian navies, have been flexing their proverbial muscles in attempts to prove they have more control over it.  On September 18, The US moved more than twenty ships into the thirty-nine kilometer body of water, as a warning to Iran not to close the strait, if Israel does indeed attack its nuclear program.  Later in the week, Iran let it be known their naval-forces tested missiles in that water, as way to prove they that have the capability it close it. Some may wonder why this is significant. Oil is the answer. Twenty percent of the world’s petroleum comes from this strait.  No access to the Strait of Hormuz would mean no, or very expensive oil for North America, and of course, that would have grave economic consequences.  If one watches mainstream media he or she could get the idea that the US is trapped in two wars because the Middle East’s monopoly on this precious resource. The good news is, some people, including Miguel Angel Centro, the author of the article, “Left Behind” would argue that, the Middle East’s monopoly on oil is fiction, and that it is just one of the many reasons, the U.S. needs to pay closer attention to Central and South America.     Others include our problems with illegal drugs and illicit arms and most importantly, the health of thousands of people.

 Centro begins article by warning readers about the affects of ignoring and avoiding globalization.  He says that nobody can help but need resources and aid from other countries. Therefore, it is in the best interest of all nations to ensure that they do not rely too greatly on any country. He is adamant that is essential that the US government diversify its interests and that Latin America would be a wonderful ally to have in this global race to the top. Whether we like it or not, he says, were competing with the same powers: the European and Pacific countries that in terms of successfully globalizing their economies are beating us, fair and square.    If we do not band together as neighbors we will both lose.  Central and South America are rich in resources, namely oil, over which North America has waged the aforementioned wars. Getting out the wars would not be the only benefit.  There is not the issue of distance that we have with the Middle East. This of course drives down the cost of the oil. Secondarily, we are not nearly as indebted to any Latin American countries as we are to Saudi Arabia.  

Brazil supplies oil to us, and has great potential to become a powerful source of alternative energy.  It is quickly becoming a democracy, albeit with a communist president, complete with freedom of speech and of the press.  The U.S. states publicly that this is what they want for the whole world. If that is true, it has to be true all the time, not just when the government likes whoever is in power. Centro argues that we have the same issue with Venezuela. Hugo Chavez, their president, is extremely candid about his hatred for the U.S., but it is not completely unjustified.  Venezuela has been disregarded by the US both as an asset and as a threat.   Venezuela is virtually independent, and that upsets the U.S. We need to reevaluate are thought process. It is okay for other countries to be successful; we are all in this together.   

Being willing to work in tandem with Mexico’s government, regardless of whether or not we agree with all of their practices, would according, to Centro, help us with a lot of problems concerning illegal immigration. Together, the two nations could stop the drug trafficking of the Mexican cartel (which is a huge problem in both countries) and prevent Americans from being able to sell illegal weapons to Mexicans. Without friends on both sides of the boarder, this is unattainable goals. 

Improving relations with Latin America would improve not only our nation’s economic issues but humanitarian issues, also. Violence is a daily part of poorer Latinos lives’. Giving them aid would stop starvation and abuse. That is what we should be in the very front of our minds, and after that, we can make a continent to rule the world.

On... Me.

The one and only Monica Geglio nominated for the Sunshine award. That means I have to answer eight questions. It also means anybody listed on my What Cathleen Reads  page needs to answer them, too. Please. You all bring me tons of sunshine!

Here are my answers:

What is your favorite Holiday movie?

It’s a Wonderful Life is a close, close second, but my all-time favorite is any version of Little Women. It’s also one of my most favorite books, because Jo March is one the best characters ever written.  

What is your favorite flower?

That’s tough. My mom is a fabulous gardener and I have been lucky enough to grow up around lots of gorgeous flowers. Recently I have said daffodils are my favorite, but I love purple lilacs, too.

What is your favorite nonalcoholic beverage?

Apple cider, so I’m obviously pretty pumped about fall!

What is your passion?

I’m a pretty passionate girl, so it is hard to pick just one. Anything I enjoy, I enjoy thoroughly and anything I dislike, I dislike intensely. I hope that loved ones would say that I work hard to be an attentive and compassionate family-member and friend; that really matters to me most.

What is your favorite time of day?

I am most productive in the early morning and love to have fun at night. The only time of day I hate is from four to seven PM.

What is your favorite physical activity?

Swimming is my favorite way to exercise, by far.

What is your favorite vacation?

I have been on so many great ones. I love to see new places! I took an unforgettable trip to LA with my cousins, mom and aunt when I was 14. I am really partial to cities.

On the Bodies that Trap Us

A conversation I had with a friend recently inspired me to research whether or not there is any correlation between physical disability and eating disorders or what psychologists call "eating-disordered thought-processes." Eating-disordered thought-processes are the, often illogical chains of thoughts that people who consider or begin  starving,binge-eating and purging, or binge-eating OR purging, have concerning food. One can have these without engaging in behaviors typical of bulimia or anorexia.  Because of my minor in psychology, I have started a lot of papers that I could not complete because there wasn't enough scholarly research on which to write six to ten pages. This definitely would have been one of those papers , had even two pages been the length requirement. It seems virtually no official  studies have been done regarding the likelihood of someone with a physical disability developing an eating disorder or having eating-disordered inclinations, other than the obvious. We are more prone to obesity,which is an eating disorder, because of our sedentary lifestyles .

This really surprises me. I have spent most of my teenage and adult life as part of the blogosphere. Many of the blogs/online diaries/community posting have been written by disabled people; almost all of those writers (myself surely included) have discussed hatred of their own body or appearance at least once.The closest I came to legitimate research  on this was a sentence in a scientific journal that said "Most people living with ongoing physical challenges report feeling trapped in their own bodies." Then I realized  scientists don't peruse online-communities looking for topics to study... duh. Maybe we're such a small minority that society does not believe we could be a significant fraction of another minority, those with eating disorders.

Beyond that,  maybe individuals with disabilities and body-images issues have a hard time acknowledging that one has anything to with the other. We are constantly told by loved ones not to let our challenges affect things they don't have to.  Who we see in the mirror definitely falls under that umbrella. Maybe, it's really scary to think that we don't hate our bodies because they're ugly, we don't hate our bodies because they're too big, and we don't hate our bodies because we wish we were thinner. Maybe, we hate our bodies because they limit us, and at times that hatred manifests itself outwardly .  I started the last several sentences with the word "maybe" because as I said, I have nothing except my own inklings to support those statements. I wish some extremely educated person would research and publish about this  It would help a lot of people who are struggling to understand why they cannot see the beautiful girl her friends see. To all of my disabled readers: You're not alone in occasionally detesting the body that traps you . 

On Speaking for an Entire Community... Or Not

Because it is easy and natural for me to write about novels, I used one I had to read for an African American Lit course two years ago (I’ll never understand why these gifted writers aren’t included in other American literature classes, but that’s another post), to make what I believe to be an essential point about writers and their audiences. If you have not read Their Eyes were Watching God, you should, but I also think that my position will still be evident.

Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes were Watching God, though critically acclaimed, was originally was on the receiving end of a lot of harsh criticism. A fellow African American author, Richard Wright, went as far as to call it a menstrual show for white folks. Wright made this comment when race was an even more sensitive issue than it was in the 1960’s or is today. The fear of and dislike for black people who pandered to white people is more than understandable. As reader of the novel today, however, I find that not many insults could be further from the truth.

Their Eyes were Watching God depicted very nicely the life of African American’s in the 1930’s. What it did more than that, however, is tell the universal and timeless story of woman who really, really wanted to find powerful love and to live a life full of it. She goes through three husbands, lots of abuse, and spiritual journey trying to find it.    By the end, she learns  that the only things she can do is live for herself and hope that whatever higher power is out there will occasionally show her a little mercy.  This plot has been written and rewritten by men and women of all creeds and colors and cannot really be seen as unique to any group of people. I do not mean to say that aren’t pieces of the story that directly address the African American community, because there certainly are.  Maybe, despite what readers expect, however that was not Hurston goal. Maybe her objective was simply to tell a story about real life, real people and real feelings. After all, all sorts of women go through the trials and tribulations that her main character, Janie Crawford did. All sorts of men have the controlling nature that Janie’s first husband does and the wandering eye and insecurities of her second. Maybe, the fault lies with individuals like Wright, who expect every African American voice to speak for their entire race.

As I writer, I make no claim that this blog speaks for all disabled woman, all English majors or all 23 year olds. I speak for me.  

The gravest disservice we can do to any writer is to assume that we know their point of view.  Race is manmade and difficult to discuss. The same can be said about any difference one can name.  Wright’s insulting Hurston for the way she deals with it only further divides humankind. At the time, the greatest thing Hurston could do for her community was to illustrate that they struggle with the same issues as Caucasians and that those issues deserve to solved for them also.  She was not pandering to whites; she was simply trying to compose a story to which a large audience could relate. She did it! Why is she faulted for that when it is what society asks of every white male writer? 

I think even today we don’t look too closely at that question because the answer makes us ashamed of ourselves. Their Eyes Were Watching God tells exactly the story it intends to tell.

On Finding Sparkle in Weakness

In Kindergarten I received the “Mother Goose” award at the end of the year. It was an award they probably created for me. I was always looking out for other kids. I made sure they zipped up their coats, and comforted them when they cried; I even tried to end whatever fights broke out between my classmates. This is a facet of my personality for which I have been teased. They say I care too much or that I’m nosy, and for a long time I agreed that it was a weakness.

Years later, in high school I spent one period every year doing my homework in a resource room. I was there while most students were in gym, swimming and other classes from which I was exempt due to my disability.  Because of my limited mobility, I couldn’t “play safely” with the others.  The majority of the other kids in the resource room were there because of learning disabilities and cognitive impairments.  I have always believed they have it harder than me, like it was easier for me to defend myself against bullies. My handicap was visible and all onlookers knew when I was being picked on.  Other teenagers underestimated these kids so much that they assumed they didn’t know when they were being ridiculed, but they knew. They knew as quickly as you or I would.

A lot of people might have hated being in class with people labeled as intellectually beneath them, I loved them. They were always smiling and never said a negative word about anybody.  All of us could learn a great deal from the way they view the world.   The hour I spent with these students was the most fun I had all day. Because of these experiences I know that I want spend my career helping cognitively impaired individuals and their families.  For this I am incredibly grateful.  I’m not going to talk about the severely disabled students in my class. I’ll just discuss two boys who learned differently than others and had very little patience for school. We’ve all sat next them in class: the students who don’t take the time to spell properly, and never fully complete their homework but can tell you everything there is to know about basketball or hunting. Cody and T.J. would waste the entire study hall blabbing about whatever sport was in season and then complain about their grades when teachers warned them that they might fail.  

Their academic achievement did not reflect their intellectual capabilities, but I wouldn’t call them lazy. They worked hard when they weren’t stuck at a desk; school wasn’t organized with them in mind, and they didn’t seem to have families who were very concerned about it, either.  Once, our teacher walked out of the room crying because Cody’s mom was so unwilling to help him succeed in school.  His very cynical mother thought because academia was not his forte, it was not worth his time.  I had never been exposed to this way of thinking before, and it made me incredibly sad for Cody. It became apparent that it wasn’t just the other teenagers who underestimated him. I cried.  About a week later my teacher told me in a moment of frustration that most days TJ parents didn’t care if woke up early enough to start the day. After that I started to try to assist TJ and Cody in any way I could. I lost sleep thinking of nice words for them. They grew very fond of me and we became friends. “The boys”, as our teacher called them, confided in me and listened to my advice. We laughed together, and they trusted me to know about their after school partying and their flawed home-lives. I listened to them complain about girls, helped them understand Romeo and Juliet   and convinced them not to clobber other boys who irritated them.

 I didn’t realize how much I affected them until I saw them smoking one day after school.  When I approached them, they immediately hid their cigarettes behind their backs.  We had an awkward conversation and as I walked away, I saw TJ toss his pack of Marlboros into the trash.  The next day, I told TJ that I wouldn’t have said anything about his smoking. He told me he knew that; he said he felt guilty because he knew I would be concerned about his health. I don’t know that TJ quit forever, but I do know he tried to change his life because he knew he mattered to me.

This was a triumphant occurrence in my life. It was the moment when I realized that caring is not a weakness, that my nosiness can change lives.  That day, I learned that my mother-goose ways and I could make a difference. I may not be the best student, or the prettiest girl, I may not even be the most attentive friend, or the easiest daughter to raise. I am however, capable of seeing potential in those who have been written off, by their loved ones and by themselves.  

Since then, I have been many different therapists who have tried to teach me (among other more significant and personal lessons) to let go of other people’s issues. I finally found one who says that I will never do so. I am always going to be a mother-goose. I have to learn to do it in a healthy manner—and make a life out of it.

I hope that anybody reading this that has been told that have a weakness, finds the sparkle in it; and experiences the joy that I have.   

Book Reviews

I have read a lot of books this summer. I figured, for a post on the lighter side I could review them for you. Because you may actually decide to read these novels, I will stay away from spoilers.

John Grisham, Calico Joe: The go-to author for a great legal thriller writes a book about a young boy’s admiration for a baseball-player and more importantly, the confusion caused by a damaged father –son relationship. I liked it, read it quickly and underlined a couple of sentences that were particularly well written. Was it Grisham’s best? Not by a long shot, I won’t think of it again after I write this. A Painted House (another deviation from his usual genera) is better; that may be his best. You’ll enjoy Calico Joe, though, it’d be hard not to.

John Grisham, The Litigators: Doing what he typically does, Grisham writes a legal-thriller, and makes it easy to turn pages. It’s fast-paced, entertaining, and has you rooting passionately for the little guy. This a fun book to read, he holds your attention and even adds a little humor. If you have read a lot Grisham though, it is a little predictable by the end.

Chris Cleave, Incendiary: This is the story of an incredibly imperfect, but likable woman who loses her husband and young son when Al Qaeda blows up a soccer stadium in London. She writes an honest, angry letter to the guy she thinks is responsible for her tragedy: Osama Bin Laddin. I was not a huge fan of this one. It was fine; it certainly was better than most could do. However, the plot was so horrific and yet so possible, that this novel really had the chance to resonate with readers, and it did not. At least it did not resonate with me. All the characters were very easy to empathize with, but I just didn’t feel emotionally invested.

Vanessa Diffenbaugh, The Language of Flowers: I absolutely loved this novel about an 18 year-old aging-out of her past, and the US  foster-care system. I was compelled to finish it in two days and posted on both Facebook and Twitter that my friends should read it, and I think you should, too.

Jaime Ford, The Hotel on the On the Corner of Bitter and Sweet: A cute, Romeo Juliet-esque story  set during a time when Japanese-Americans were being “relocated” to internment camps. The romance aspect of the novel is fabulously developed. If you’re a love-story person, pick this book up. However, if you’re a history-buff who is knowledgeable about what really went on in Internment camps, you will probably find there is too much sweet and that the plot lacks an appropriate amount of bitter. I liked it well enough. 

E. Annie Proulx, The Shipping News: Proulx won the Pulitzer Prize for this novel, in which she uses a slightly below average, out-of-work but kind-hearted guy, forced to move to the home of his ancestors to write about the human experience. She earned it. It’s not an upper and it’s not a quick read, but it’s worth it. Just beautiful.

Anna Quindlind, Every Last One: I loved it:  I cried. I laughed. I worried. I was distraught. I brought up the book in unrelated conversation. I understand that this novel about a mother dealing with her worst nightmare, is probably either too shocking or not shocking enough for many readers, but I definitely recommend it. 

Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl : This is a very trendy book right now. Recently, many trendy books have been written for second graders, aside from sex. This isn't. It is a dark novel that leaves you wondering who the protagonist and the antagonists are until the last few pages. The author is not a wordsmith, but she can tell a story.   Read it, if thriller mysteries are your thing. 

None of these books are a waste of time, that’s why I chose them to review. The important thing is that everybody read, so regardless of what I said, read whatever sounds good to you. 

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On Explaining and Fear

Did any of you ever read the Babysitters Club Series? I did. I read several of the books and even tried to start my own club with a couple of my friends.  In every book in this collection that I am assuming is made up of hundreds of  novels targeting preteens, there is a paragraph explaining what diabetes is because one of the members of the club, Stacy, who, by the way was mine and my sister's favorite character, had diabetes. These books were obviously not great works of literature, but this part made sense. The explanation  was identical in every installment, and written in first person, as if Stacy were repeating it for the umpteenth time in a social situation.    To this day, whenever I tell people where I am from, or explain what Cerebral Palsy is. I picture Ann M. Martin's choppy paragraph on old wrinkled on elementary-school library pages that reek  of Elmer's glue.

"Romeo... it's about an hour north of Detroit."  "I have Cerebral Palsy.... It's caused by lack of oxygen to the brain at birth. Mine mostly affected my balance center and made my legs a little spastic. Everyone you meet is different.... I'm very lucky." 

I do not mind explaining where my parents live. Every small-town girl has to do it, and though I thought it was in middle and high school, Romeo's  not a bad place to have roots. We grew up around many, many people who rallied around us, and still would. I don't even mind a explaining the CP anymore. I typically spit out the aforementioned sentences before I realize I've done it. I get it change it up for little kids ("I just walk a little differently than you do... No, my legs don't hurt.") and the vast majority of people respond politely. I think I have even perfected the tone of voice and I always break the tension, by cracking a joke at the end. These are simply parts of my unsophisticated story.

What I fear, is having to add more "clarity paragraphs" if you will, as I age. I really dislike the idea of that. What if one of them is to if one is to my friend "Beth comes to clean on Tuesday, and Jessica, is the one who makes dinner." Or to lovely, hard-working, home-health aids, "The wipes are the cabinet under the sink on the left side, you can't miss them."   Or what if God forbid, I am talking to my mother "I would love to get married but, for the tenth time, but it's hard to  a man find that will accept woman with multiple emotional and physical issues." 

I do not want lonely to become mundane for me. I do not want to picture that worn paperback book, while my independence and self-worth wither away.  It'd just be too much.  And sadly, I think it is my worst fear. I would hate to smell Elmer's glue on my death bed.  

On Mortality

I love my father. He would do anything for anybody. He is smart, has a very easy time making others laugh, and he treats my mom  like royalty. He even calls her "the duchess", though usually in jest . He also has a booming voice, a ridiculous temper, hates (or does a good job pretending to hate) socializing, is often grouchy and has issues communicating. Dad did not have a stress-free experience parenting two daughters, and the stress showed.    So, imagine my surprise when on a cold February Friday, dad woke his wife and daughters up told us we were going to have a "Really fun weekend!"  

We did. I was thirteen at the time, and ten years later I still remember as one of the best weekends I have the ability to remember. We went to down-town Detroit and to the Detroit Institute of Arts, to see a mummy exhibition.  Our family got in for free because  the lady working the front desk was so impressed with my mom's knowledge. Then, we dropped  in on a Motown tribute concert that just happened to be going on , after which a  seemingly homeless street-musician serenaded  my sister and I with Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely" because we talked dad into giving him a couple bucks.  The next day we saw Fame at the Detroit Opera House . My mom, sister and I inherited a slight obsession with musical theater from my maternal grandparents, so he knew he'd hit a home run with that one.  Are you wondering what  motivated daddy to create this memory , like I was?  He had cancer again and he thought he was dying...soon.

My father is very much alive; I would guess he doesn't regret that weekend. All four of us still tell stories about it.

Any of us could pass way within the hour. Why does a doctor always have to remind us of that? We should all be doing what we love with whomever we love right now. I am not saying who should grab your families and spend money on them , immediately. Everything we did other than the hotel and the play, that weekend, was free. Tickets to the D.I.A .  range from five to twenty dollars, unless you are as intelligent as my mother.   I am saying never forget that you're mortal.  When my sister and I reminisce about that time-- we mostly discuss, how spontaneous it was and how much we  all smiled.

It's never a bad choice to make a memory; there is always a chance it could be your last. 

On Protecting Children

This is a post that has been rolling around in my mind since the Penn State scandal broke. I do not want to focus solely on Jerry Sandusky terrible crimes. I want to get people thinking. Why don't we protect children; why don't we care? Now, before anyone jumps down my throat, please visit my Disagree With Me page. This is   a subject about which I feel passionately. I know myself. I will make several declarative statements. Do not stoop to criticizing me personally or minimizing this issue. Tell me what you believe. Let's keep this about the children.

First of all, I want to throw what my high-school English teacher would call attention grabbing statics out there. One in five or 15.5 million kids in the US are impoverished. Those kids are five times more likely to endure physical, emotional and sexual violence.(Smith, 2010) Experiencing these things, of course, leads to a hire risk of partaking in criminal activity later in life. Three out of every five people in jail or prison now, were  living below the poverty level when they went in. (Street,2008)

That  is what makes Jerry Sandusky's actions so unforgivable.  He knew children living in poverty would cling to structure and a roll-model who had "made it", he created a charity in order to take advantage of that, and fed the sick urges of his pedophilia.  It is one of the most premeditated crimes about which I have read. The scariest part is,to call  him an anomaly would be totally incorrect. The exposure of  Catholic priests is another probably the most famous example, but there are plenty of men and women who target "at risk" children to molest.  There are plenty of bullies who pick on poor kids,  because their parents are too busy working to defend them. Those parents are demonized for raising their children in  the  exact environment that they were raised in , because it is almost impossible to get of, and they are undoubtedly scared by their childhoods, psychology if not psychically.

 So in the most privileged  country in the world, kids get ignored, go  to bed without food, see shootings in their streets, often idolize the wrong people,  grow up do whatever they can to make money because they are intelligent  enough to recognize poverty and as the route of their problems, and America incarcerates them.   Does that make sense to anybody? It makes absolutely no sense me. Especially because after those people get out of jail or prison, it is very difficult to become employed, so many of them fall back into their original lifestyle and have trouble staying outside.

What can we do? I can give my opinion, for what is worth

We can stop worrying about the careers of adults and start worrying about the minds of our future. We can thank employees  for exposing corruption instead of calling them whistle-bowlers or tattle-tales.

We can stop picking on impoverished, single mothers. Good things will happen if we acknowledge that they are doing their best, stop insulting them for taking charity help them become employable, and put the stigma on the men who leave them.

We can make class-sizes smaller so that the teachers who spend seven or more hours a day with our children can more easily recognize signs of abuse.

We can stop treating prison as a rehabilitation center, and make rehab affordable. We make it easier for people who are rehabilitated to become   productive members of society by not allowing companies to hold minor offenses that they committed a decade ago against them.

We can keep sex education and self-defense in schools. Yes, it would  be ideal if parents handled these areas but not everybody has involved parents and not every involved parent has time. Ignorance about any topic, makes in frightening  and taboo. Making sex frightening  and taboo only makes kids more likely to hide abuse.


We can stop prattling on about how none of the aforementioned facts matter, because some poor or abused children do end up rich, educated, happy  and/or successful. When a person is celebrated, as they should be, for beating the odds, it is because the odds are against them. It is unspeakably  difficult to fight poverty and most people lose.   This in unfair to kids.  We need tell them, we are mad for them and we WILL fix this. And then, obviously we need to fix this.

Works Cited

Smith, R. (2010, May 1). Child poverty. Retrieved from http://www.childrensdefense.org

Street, P. (2008, December 5). History in Jail. Retrieved from http://www.historyisaweapon.com/defcon1/streeracpripo

On the Hardest Parts of having a Disability

In previous posts, I have told readers of the perks that come along with my Cerebral  Palsy and the equally wonderful and scary responsibility that it gives me. I have written about, how fabulous my friends are, and told you the truth about what society assumes about the community of individuals with disabilities. In all those posts I have been able to put a positive spin on whatever challenges I am discussing. I do not do this because I am a Pollyanna, or an endlessly cheerful girl. I do not do this for the benefit of my blog-audience, friends, or family. I do this because I have to; in order to make it through the day without tears, I have to be able to instantly see the bright spots in a lot of dark places. I believe that all disabled people learn to do this early in life. It can get us into trouble, because our whole life can be crumbling around us and we almost don’t see it. That, however, is whole other post. I wanted to focus today, on the parts of living with CP, about which I can’t seem to see anything good. I figured it would have a helped me, a few years ago, if somebody had actually said it aloud.

1.       It’s almost impossible to get through a day without being exhausted. This was not a problem when I was a kid. I had just as much energy as my able-bodied sister and playmates. As the years go by however, disabled bodies get sick of working three times harder to have the same amount of fun (Yes, there are studies proving that I must exert triple the energy  my sister does to complete the same task). I still want to enjoy my life though, so I ignore my sleepy body until it screams.  My family and friends are also used to the going-doing Cathleen who they knew and loved, so sometimes they cannot understand my level of fatigue.

2.       I always have to prove to other people that I am typical person. I have already discussed rebuking the assumptions society makes about people who get around differently. I have mentioned in various posts how impressed I am by the people in my life for looking past my disability. I am impressed because it is rare. The funniest assumptions are made by strangers, so those are the stories that get told the most. However, there are many people who I have known for years, people who I once considered close to me, who think about my disability first every time they think about me. That is beyond hurtful and not at all humorous.

3.       I live in fear of burdening others and I have my entire life. “So and so shouldn’t have to help me into this car.” “Why didn’t I just bring my walker?  Nobody would have to push me.”  “I should have brought my chair, I’m walking too slowly.  So and so must be annoyed.” “I really made Maggie’s childhood harder?” “If I get fat, people will have to help me with even more.” “I cannot tell my parents how So and so treated me today, they’ll worry.” etc, etc,  It is a stupid and self destructive psychological tape that plays consistently (not constantly) in my head and  it increases in volume as I get older. It has spilled into and messed with aspects of life that have nothing to do with my disability.  I have talked to therapists about it, to my mom about it, and to dear friends about it. There is seemingly nothing I can do but ignore it.

The list of things I hate is  short but daunting none the less. Please notice that this list is written in the first- person as they are the things that I cannot seem to get over. I speak for no one else.  If anybody reading does not agree with me or thinks that their list would include more significant drawbacks, visit my Disagree with me Page. I'd love to publish your thoughts. 

On The Day the ADA was Passed

It’s the 22^nd Anniversary of The Americans with Disabilities Act. That is pretty exciting stuff! This means that there is an entire group of adults who have enjoyed its many benefits for their entire lives. In comparison to a lot of other important civil rights movements, the movement to give equal opportunity to those of us with so-called special needs is pretty young.  This isn’t surprising only 0.62% of Americans live with Physical disabilities for the majority of their existence—and it is sometimes more difficult for those with multiple challenges to advocate for themselves. I am so glad somebody finally paid attention! I am from a beautiful country.  No other nations have the types of laws that the US does, and it’s 2012. Hopefully that will change soon.

I have read many blogs celebrating the ADA in their own  way today. I have Cerebral Palsy and my friend Melissa will tell you, we’re all connected. :) I knew I wanted to make a statement, but I could not decide what statement to make. That last sentence should shock nobody; I am the world’s least decisive dweller. Well, I didn’t make a decision. I am going to attempt to make three statements in one post.      One should always be true to their character, right?

I want to copy Melissa in making a statement about the individuals in my life. Don’t worry, I have been copying her for more than a decade, she likes it now.

I come from the best group of people I know. My family is very strong, very accepting, very funny, very loving,   and very independent.  Being somebody who needed extra help in my family wasn’t always easy. I often felt awkward, mainly because of my own insecurities, I am sure. It took me a long time to realize that my family didn’t think anything horrible about me. They only criticized me because they were worried about my ability to succeed. And, they should have been, for a long time I was failing. Whether or not that had anything to do with my CP, at this point is anybody’s guess.  So for those of you out there who feel like the people who should be the most understanding are the least understanding: I know that when life is already unfair, because of nothing you chose, you want want loved ones to coddle you, just occasionally. However, it’s your family’s job to ensure that you can contribute to society, and most of them do that in any way they know how, because they love you. Most of the things that were hurtful to me when I was younger, I find hilarious or helpful now.  The ADA is a great law, but it can’t do everything for you, and it won’t.

For every person in your life who kicks your ass into gear though, you need someone who is willing to cut you some slack. And for that, you go to camp.  Seriously! I wish everybody with a disability had the privilege to spend one week a year at Indian Trails Camp like I did for seven years. ITC is a camp in Grand Rapids, MI, for adults and children who are disabled.  It. Was. AWESOME.  Everybody moved slowly and nobody cared. Boys were interested in you because they could not walk either, and you could participate in sports without in being pointless.  I met some of my favorite people there including the counselors, who all seemed to effortlessly ignore our mobility-aids.  I hope that in the near future places like ITC become affordable for everybody. That would be wonderful, even more wonderful than camp.

I cannot tell you how rare it is for someone to effortlessly ignore a mobility-aid. Most notice and focus it immediately. I do not blame them. That’s why so many of my friends amaze me.

My friend Michelle was the first person who ever admittedly forgot about my CP. I was whining about “being different” and she stop me mid-story and said, “….How are  you different?” Michelle and I are like sisters, we fight and make-up, but none of it ever had to do with the way I walked. She never thought about it.   

Michelle and my other friend Candace,  are probably the most accepting people I know. Candace and I lived together for two years and she was constantly forgetting I was disabled. In fact, there is a pretty funny story about someone reminding her of my disability and her almost losing it. Candace has always thought of me as equal to everybody around her. She and I took care of each other as roommates, but I never felt like she was stressed out by taking care of me. I think seeing people for who they are must be genetic, after years of friendship, I attended a Halloween party with Candace’s family. Not one person even inquired about my disability. It may have been because she had talked about me previously, but I was still pleasantly flabbergasted. That had never happened before. I have been around them a few times I still haven’t been asked about my disability I don’t think they care. It’s fantastic.

 Candace’s family party was the second time I had felt that way. I remember my freshmen year of college, I asked my friend, Annie, to zip up the back of whatever I was wearing.   She looked at me and said “Well, come over here.” I was on her couch and my walker was across the room. We both laughed. The entire group of kids Annie I hung out with freshmen year, treated me the same way. It was the first time a circle of friends had accepted me collectively, and I’ll never forget it.

Lots of my favorite memories at college include, Alex and Sam —two more of my former roommates. I remember being so nervous, after living with them for just a short while to ask, Alex to help me out of a closet I somehow got stuck in. She shouldn’t have had to do that. Alex burst out laughing, and become a running joke, not because of who I am, but because of who she is. Sam is the same way. We went to a house party once, and even in my drunken stupor, I was afraid we wouldn’t be friends with me the next day. The poor girl had to help me in, help me out, and help to  the upstairs bathroom all well I was obnoxiously apologizing her over and over. The only thing she mentioned the next day  was that she had to break into our apartment because she was afraid I was assaulted by a boy I had made-out with at the party.   Again the strength is Sam’s, not mine.  

The friends I have discussed in the preceding paragraphs, probably would call me silly for writing all this down. They think of me as an ordinary woman.  The fact that the Americans with Disabilities act is only 22, however, proves that their thought process is novel, and they should be proud.

How’d you like that tie in? I majored in English!

Reflecting on my family, my friends and my opportunities, sure makes me feel fortunate.  Being born in a time in which the ADA is in place to make even bigger dreams possible make you and me even more blessed. HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!