(Possible trigger warning for rape subject/sexual assault)
Over the past few years I’ve been toying with the idea of joining the Peace Corps. So far I’ve received mixed reviews on whether or not it’s the right thing to do. Some say it’s a government funded semester abroad-a vacation for privileged white kids to fulfill whatever fascination or desire they have to dig wells and live in poverty for 27 months. Continue reading
It’s the end of term and I’m doing a lot of reflection essays and papers and responses.
So I’m going to use this time to take a break from doing formal reflections and I’m going to informally look back on the body and the assignment and put my thought stream into a post (thought streams are actually really interesting, when you think about it). It’s going to be disjointed and fairly random, but that’s my mind for you.
Fair warning.
About a month ago I went to visit my Doctor for the first time in about 5 years. I found after a certain age my primary physician was replaced by my gynecologist.
In general I think I’m healthy other than once a year getting the common cold or flu. Since the beginning of this semester I hadn’t been feeling my normal self. I had been suffering from stomachaches constantly, feeling exhausted even after a full night rest and suffering from headaches daily.
Someone told me once that lighter colored eyes–the blues and greens and greys–are more sensitive to the sun than darker eyes, and the reason for this is the way that irises scatter and transmit light into the retina. For me, stepping out into the sun each day is so rough. I groan and gripe to myself every morning while attempting to shield my eyes until they’ve adjusted to what always seems like the most brutal brightness. Continue reading
It is always the same scenario. Someone who is either blind, struggling to guide their way throughout the bus with their walking stick tapping the ground in a rhythmic motion, or someone who cannot walk, as the bus driver has to take the extra minutes to load that individual in a wheelchair into the front of the vehicle. While all this is happening, I usually look away uncomfortably. But the question is why? I’ve decided to answer with that I feel guilty. But why should I feel guilty? I haven’t contributed to what society calls their “disability”. But somehow I feel somewhat responsible for the way the blind can never see the beautiful scenery during a hike, or the deaf may never be able to hear the wonderful melodies embedded in music. Maybe it’s the fact that I enjoy these pleasures, that it is tearing me inside. Sometimes I wish it was me . . . . that I was blind, deaf, lame, dumb and so on. I feel that then the guilt would disappear because I would be stripped of the “pleasures” society says that I have.
But are the disabled really suffering? Is that a legitimate cause for me to feel guilty? The strange thing is, I only feel this way towards disabled individuals that are strangers to me. I know at least one person very well that is disabled. And I wouldn’t even call her “disabled” because she is so driven and strong. She doesn’t seem to experience any limitations and boldly reaches for the same opportunities that I or any other “normal” person would want. Because of that, I feel no sense of guilt around her, she greatly inspires me. Maybe if I stopped to look at the “disability” of others and feel sorry and crappy about it, as society has so often told us to do, I would see greatness and not sympathy.
To be honest, I never dared to express my thoughts on my guilt toward disabled people. To me, I thought it was inappropriate to do so. But now letting all my thoughts out here in this post for the first time, I’ve realized that it is society that is causing my guilt, not the disabled. The disabled are not telling me to feel sorry for them, society is; the disabled are not telling me to look away, society is; the disabled are not telling me they are not enjoying life, society is. And looking back on it, the way society is downgrading the disabled is really shattering.
At the beginning of this class’ section on disability studies, we created a list of a variety of disabilities that may or may not be recognized by society. We listed the ones most people think of, like physical and mental disabilities, but when we began talking about “invisible” disabilities, something struck a chord in me.
TW: Blood mention Continue reading
My cat Taiger died three weeks ago. He was my first and only pet, and we had him for 12 years. He was a scrawny little stray when he wandered onto our property, and from the very start, he and I were thick as thieves: he would come trotting up to me whenever I called his name, he followed at my heels wherever I went, and he would occasionally leave a dead squirrel for me in my slippers (gross, I know, but that’s true love right there). On October 25th, we had to put him to sleep. Continue reading
It’s extremely difficult to write about my relationship with my mother’s illness because I have lived with it for so long that it is simply a natural part of life. Many of my memories of growing up revolve around playing games with my siblings seeing who could be the quietest while my mom rested. At the time I didn’t really think about it – it seemed perfectly natural that she needed to spend long hours in the day lying down in her room with the lights off – and we were just happy to play together. Only looking back do I realize the reason my mom needed to spend so much time resting; she has a relatively unknown disorder called Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (or CFS).
I was reading the news the other day and came across an article that got me so angry. A man had been using the medical condition of epilepsy to get out of paying for his expensive meals. Luckily he got caught but his punishment is a very small punishment; a slap on the hand if you will.
The reason why this story got me so riled was because of the fact that my mother has been living with epilepsy for 26 years.She has to deal with the repercussions of her disability daily. For someone to mock and mimic an invisible disability is a despicable act. She has had to recently stop driving because her seizures have gotten so bad. Her seizures have taken a toll on her memory slightly so the small task of reminiscing becomes a difficult task of the realization that her disability is becoming more and more relevant each time we talk.
The man who decided it is acceptable to skip out on paying for a meal by faking a seizure makes me sick. It is disgusting and I wish he could understand epilepsy more in depth; this disability is no joking matter. Since he used the disability to his benefit, it makes me worried for my mother. If she has a seizure in the grocery store, restaurant, and any other public place, will people be less likely to help her if they think she is faking. I hope that if people see someone having a seizure they can recognize it and stay by that persons side until they come out of it. I hope that this mans acts did not make people want to turn a cold shoulder to a person actually having a seizure.
My sister is mentally retarded. I’m not sure what the ‘politically correct’ term would be for this these days. I’m pretty sure it’s “mentally handicap”. Retard literally means to slow down. At the end of the day that’s a pretty accurate description of my sister. She is 24 years old and has the mentality of a twelve year old. She isn’t stupid by any means. She just got slowed down. My 6-year-old son and she are such good friends. I fear the day he intellectually passes her.
Let me explain a little more about her condition.
Unruly Bodies 