Just More Proof that "Normal" does not exist...

What an appropriate lesson to be reiterated on Christmas Eve...

I received my annual letter from my friend, Chris, whom I went to high school with, and in all honesty, wasn't on MY radar too often.

He and I had a class together in the 10th grade. He's highly intelligent, extremely detailed oriented and probably one of the most insightful people I know.

He's also autistic. I'm not to sure the details or limitations of his disability other than what I've observed and what he has told me.

I do know that he was in a mix of "normal" classes and special education classes in high school. I do know that he was EXTREMELY literal. If the teacher were busy, and he needed help and asked, the teacher would say, "just a minute" and from there, Chris would stare at the clock like it held the truth to life in it and time EXACTLY one minute, and then ask again.

Suffice to say, most kids in high school are assholes. Especially the privileged little shits I went to high school with who drove the BMW's that daddy bought for them and thought it was highly entertaining to tease and torture Chris.

I did what I could to try and be a friend to him and defend him in our 10th grade history class. I always made sure he was my partner for our group work. I went to his birthday party at the arcade and gave him an art set because he was constantly drawing and dreaming of being a cartoonist and showing me his work.

I danced with him at Prom and took a picture with him, to which his mother told me he had pinned up next to his bed.

To me, these weren't extraordinary acts....just DECENT acts. What everyone should have been doing. But it meant something to him and that is humbling. To know that even after all these years, he still writes me and considers me a good friend.

Well I just got his Christmas letter to which he wrote:

In addition to the comics, I will start to read a few books which I think may offer me a step closer to be social. I have been trying to improve my vocabulary that might come in useful when I want to communicate with others, because most of my conversations are about movies and video games. Which is kinda weird. My mother, on the other hand, doesn't want me to use the vocabulary terms since they are strange. She also wants me to play Special Olympics when I move back to Texas, and that's what worries me, because I want to move out on my own and make decisions for myself. This is how I see the world of people with disabilities: Even if people are highly functional and have a learning disability, Normal people will continue to treat them differently, whether it is people they are working for at a company, people that are tutoring them about something they want to learn about, or people they are taking on a date.

The dating part is the main issue. I hope that one day, when I move back to Texas, I will find a girlfriend. I also feel that when I am disabled/high functioning, I'm not free to make my own choices. I may not have the privaledge to drive a car. People will tell me what to participate in, who I should hang out with or date, and how I should live my life. Sometimes I feel as if I'm trapped in a prison where normal people will get to do those things. I would give anything to live a normal life. Hopefully, getting a driver's license, getting a better job, going through college, getting a house/apartment, finding a girlfriend and hoping one day I will marry her and have kids, and live a better life until the day I die.

That is my story. I hope you understand what I'm going through. Enjoy the rest of your Christmas and I hope to see you again soon when I move back to Texas.

Yours Truly, Chris

He would be shocked how similar we feel. Everyone has their own "personal prison" that they dream of breaking out of to live a better life.
I do understand your story, Chris. I do.
Thank you for being my friend.

He always surprises me at how eloquently he can put things...which sadly, means I was one of those people holding the walls up in HIS prison.

Life Lesson: Never underestimate someone. Normal does not exist.

I love when that happens :D

My dreaded part of the day..."getting ready for bed."

I haaaaaaate taking out my contacts and then from there, taking off my make-up and washing my face all clean.

It takes a good ten minutes to do.

And I know it sounds ridiculous and you're thinking, "what's the big fucking deal?"

But it's just TEDIOUS. When I'm so exhausted and just READY TO GO TO BED RIGHT NOW, nothing is worse than dealing with that. Rubbing my eyes with white tissues that become smeared and black with my "beauty."

But HURRAH! A happy surprise...I didn't wear makeup today!

so I can just go to bed!

I LOVE when that happens :D

Nothin' like smelling like Baby Barf to make a girl feel HOT.

o_O

What's wrong with me?

Hello Depression...It's been a while.

I'm not talking about the "feeling a little blue" or having an "off week."

I'm talking about full blown depression that makes EVERYTHING exhausting.
That makes you avoid the phone and calling the people you love because you just don't have the energy to pretend everything is ok.

I'm talking about the kind of depression that makes 1pm feel like 6am in the morning and you're just so so tired and question if you can even get out of bed that day.

The kind of depression that has opened that dark, dark place in your mind and now that demon bitch who use to rule your life is stomping around inside your brain continually kicking your ass, and you're just so tired and you don't know if you can keep fighting her.

My mom, frantic, called an emergency session with my therapist tonight.
So I guess I'm going to that.

The Obvious Lesson...

well on night two of my new found love for baths, I learned an important, but rather obvious lesson.

I felt SUPER productive because I got a load of laundry done.
I went into the bathroom and started running my bath and felt the water before I put the drain stopper in and it was wonderful and steaming hot, just like I like it.

Well I decided to keep the productivity going, and went into my closet (where my washer and dryer are) to start another load of laundry. Once I got that going, I felt like my hot bath was MUCH deserved....I jumped right in only to discover BRRRRRRRRR....the hot water was going to the washing machine and not my relaxing bath.

I promptly jumped out of there and into some warm sweats and now I'm hiding under my covers NOT FEELING RELAXED.

Epic Fail.

Well now I know. Laundry + Baths do not mix.

Crazy Mood Swing Girl.

Well I've been on break from school for almost a week now.

The adjustment hasn't been going so well to say the least...

I'm SO use to going two trillion miles a second that I've truly forgotten how to relax. How to slow down and just be.

And it's been pretty convenient as a way to NOT deal with uncomfortable/sad/angry feelings I didn't realize were fostering in me.

I knew on some level, but I didn't realize the extent of them as this week I transformed into "CRAZY MOOD SWING GIRL" (eh. Sorry to David)

Well all those pent up feelings have been taking me for a wild ride and most of all...the complete and utter exhaustion has hit me.

I didn't realize how TIRED I was! I'm use to going to school all morning, thinking, thinking, going, going, then off to work, which caring for two babies and keeping the house running and spotless and making two neurotic parents happy all the time is Herculean in and of itself...and then I'd come home and do hours of homework/taking care of my own apartment, etc.

Now that I just have the work thing going on, I come home and I'm like a cranky old goose flapping my wings and crashing about my apartment with my feathers all ruffled. I go from anger, to sadness, to happiness and back. And I was just so restless! I didn't know what to do and the obvious thing, "SLEEP" comes to mind, but I've gotten to where I feel guilty for sleeping!
Like it's a luxury I can't afford and I'm being greedy and gluttonous and lazy and unproductive if I sleep!

So tonight I'm saying "PFFFT." to it all.

I had a really good therapy session.
I saw my good friend, Brittany.

I came home and took a long, relaxing bubble bath and read a book I've been wanting to read for a while but never had the time...I actually read for pleasure again!

It was lovely! and it felt GOOD.

And the content of the book is all about channeling what we all know inherently from the Non-Physical World (where we all have come from) but that we now have forgotten and blocked through the physical world's distractions and manifestations.

It's all about how to channel your positive energy to take the power and create your desired reality.

I really believe we're capable of doing that, and from here on out, I WILL focus on doing just that.

I'm going to attempt to start meditating. I'm going to do something good for myself everyday and most of all, I'M GOING TO SLEEP AND NOT FEEL GUILTY FOR IT!

So, I'm going to end this blog post and get off of here so I can put on my nice warm sheets from the dryer and go to bed.

I'm so damn tired.

Identity Crisis

So I go to a pretty common grocery store that is close to my apartment and I use my Tom Thumb card that gives me little discounts on each item I buy.

Well I've noticed, that everytime I give it to them, they swipe it, I get the discount and carry out my transaction and they always, always say,
"Thank you Ms. Swisher, have a good day."

...How nice of them, except my name ISN'T "Amy Swisher" as it says on my receipt.

So I'm thinking, the card must be assigned to an Amy Swisher because it only happens there and it's always her name.

hmmm, I wonder who this Amy Swisher person is?

I haven't come clean about it to the store because it's sort of fun being someone else while I grocery shop.
Brings a little mystery and excitement into my simple little life.

:-p

UGH.

You know it may be time to go to bed when you're so tired you accidently attempt to gouge your own eyes out...
I just tried to take out the contacts that I never put in today.

I wore my glasses today. -_-

doh.

Nursing School

Tomorrow is the day that I am applying to nursing school.
I finally received my official transcripts in the mail, so that I can submit them to the the Office of Records and let the people who choose my fate (aka. the school of nursing board members) have access to "my identity." (aka. my grades.)

It's just such a limited and narrow view of who I am though.
But in this dirty business called Nursing School, it is ALL that counts.

My grades. It shows my ability to focus and navigate the world of college...which is impressive in that it show that I am adaptable. But most people are.


But really? Grades: They're not an accurate gauge of "what kind of nurse I will be."

Today while I was at work, I had a crystal clear moment of exactly "what kind of nurse I will be" as I was cradling one of those precious babies that I love so so much...as I was caring for the family who I spend more time with than my own family. The family who comes to me to ask "where something is" because I'm the one that moved it there and keeps things clean and orderly. Making the babies laugh and when they're so upset or won't sleep, soothing them in my own special way that works even when their own mother can't get them to calm down.

They NEED me. And it's such a good feeling...but even more so, I NEED them.

I think back to when it all started. The suffocating, all consuming self-loathing.

I was 13 the first time I truly contemplated suicide.

I sat in my parents sunny living room...right in the center patch of sunlight that always illuminated one square area on the carpet as light shone through the window.

I sat there because I was cold and just wanted to feel the warmth and light on my skin. I sat there holding bottles of pills...my 13 year old mind trying to calculate what does would "do the job."

Why you ask? Because by 13 I knew that the world truly did not make sense and so far, it had dished out more pain and ugliness than my sensitive heart could stand.
It had already taught me that great injustice would prevail and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. It took away from little brother's childhood and cast a dark shadow over the entire family.

And then? The doctors said it was starting to happen to me.

So what's a 13 year old to do when she daily sees her potential future in her deteriorating brother? Sees her parent's incremental shattering as they try desperately to hold the pieces together?

She implodes.

However, the implosion doesn't completely happen for years later...not until the 13 year old makes through high school and gets to college. How did I make it?
I took care of him.
I devoted my entire adolescence to taking care of him and others.

At 16, my daily schedule consisted of waking up at 4:30am. Getting myself ready for school. Then, waking him, getting his breakfast made and brought upstairs to him. Dressing him. Helping him shave and with his hygiene. Getting his socks and shoes on. Down the stairs. Our bags packed. Loaded into the van. Wheel chair in the back. Get us to school by 6:00am for band practice. Transfer him from his manual chair to his electric chair which we stored at the school in a locked closet that I had the key to. Be done with practice by 8:00am. half a day of school and then leave for either the hospital or nursing home where I had an internship and worked half a day there taking care of residents and patients (bathing, dressing, feeding, shaving. etc.) 4:00 pm Rush back to school. Pick him up and take him home. Get him upstairs and situated with a snack and then rush off to my part-time job where I worked in a childcare taking care of little kids. Get home by 10 pm.

Repeat.

I had NO TIME to think about myself or to contemplate the escalating and building self contempt that was infecting my body and mind like a tumor.
Sub-consciously I knew it was there. I welcomed it and feared it all at the same time.

Then college comes. It all stops. I have no one to take care of but myself. The girl I hate more than anything and KABOOOOOM!

I implode. The next 3 years is the picture of a girl making up for years of potential self destruction time. She goes from 0 to 60 in a matter of nano-seconds.

And I did it well. I was so successful in fact that I nearly destroyed my life several times over.

And now I've come out of it on the other side...For a multitude of reasons, but I know a big reason is due to those babies. That family.
They needed me. But I needed them more.

I need to be a nurse.

Why? Because taking care of others is the only thing that keeps me sane. Keeps me centered. Makes me happy.

Makes me feel like I can do SOMETHING good in a world that isn't good.

I wish the school of nursing board members knew that.
But since my "precious" transcripts don't tell that story...I must go study.

I have finals this week.
MY FATE RESTS IN MY GRADES!
ah!

Let the Spirit Read...

So I just wanted to share these short stories from one of my favorite authors, the Lebanese prophet, Khalil Gibran.

The first one reminds me that there must be some sort of "bigger picture." I try not to feel like the ant who can only see exactly what is around me...

The three ants

Three ants met on the nose of a man who was lying asleep in the sun. And after they had saluted one another, each according to the custom of his tribe, they stood there conversing.

The first and said, “These hills and plains are the most barren I have known. I have searched all day for a grain of some sort, and there is none to be found.”

Said the second ant, “I too have found nothing, though I have visited every nook and glade. This is, I believe, what my people call the soft, moving land where nothing grows.”

Then the third ant raised his head and said, “My friends, we are standing now on the nose of the Supreme Ant, the mighty and infinite Ant, whose body is so great that we cannot see it, whose shadow is so vast that we cannot trace it, whose voice is so loud that we cannot hear it; and He is omnipresent.”

When the third ant spoke thus the other ants looked at each other and laughed.

At that moment the man moved and in his sleep raised his hand and scratched his nose, and the three ants were crushed.

This one is probably my favorite. It is a lesson that sadly, our culture has failed to teach our souls... it is my goal today to look at something considered conventionally "ugly" and see the beauty within.

Beauty and Ugliness

Upon a day Beauty and Ugliness met on the shore of a sea. And they said to one another, "Let us bathe in the sea". They disrobed and swam in the waters. And after a while Ugliness came back to the shore and garmented herself with the garments of Beauty and walked his way. And Beauty too came out of the sea, and found not her rainment, and she was too shy to be naked, therefore she dressed herself with the raiment of Ugliness. And Beauty walked her way... And to this very day men and women mistake the one for the other. Yet there are some who have beheld the face of Beauty, and know her not withstanding her garments.

This one is a mind trip. But reflects how I feel a lot of the time. My mind doesn't click the way most peoples' minds. I see and think about things that most do not. Is there something wrong with that, world?! HMM? They like to think yes...

The Eye

Said the Eye one day, “I see beyond these valleys a mountain veiled with blue mist. Is it not beautiful?”

The Ear listened, and after listening intently awhile, said, “But where is any mountain? I do not hear.”

Then the Hand spoke and said, “I am trying in vain to feel it or touch it, and I can find no mountain.”

And the Nose said, “There is no mountain, I cannot smell it.”

Then the Eye turned the other way, and they all began to talk together about the Eye's strange delusion. And they said, “Something must be the matter with the Eye.”

<3 Thank you for these Beautiful Words. <3

Tonight I was driving around a few towns over on a way to an appointment, and passed a shopping center surrounded by trees absolutely twinkling in white Christmas lights...it looked so magical!

And I had the Christmas station tuned in on the radio listening to christmas music, and Josh Grobin's "O Holy Night" came on and he sounded so beautiful and sang about the birth of Christ so passionately, that it made my heart ache a little.

Sometimes, I really genuinely wish I could believe in Jesus Christ.
It's such a lovely concept...