It's been a long time ...

I was in a high school today. It has 15 years, since I began HS and 12 years since I graduated. It was so interesting, to be among that "student dynamic." I don't think, when My life was that atmosphere I knew what my peers really thought. I always, wanted to know what was behind those stares, and awkward glances. I didn't have the guts to ask than.

I'm 30 years-old, and got the opportunity to ask ... there not, my peers anymore, but the questions, thoughts and opinions are still very much the same. I don't set out to be an "inspiration." Although, that comes with the territory. I just like dispelling those myths. I reached those kids, faster and more effective, than ever. I was almost surprised, and impressed by how candid, and open they were. Yet how appropriate they seemed. If you want to see the world with unbiased truth, look at it through the eyes of a child. Ask them what they think. Let them ask what they want to know.

I heard some uncomfortable things today. Much of it I've heard before. But what I know is ... don't ask the question, unless you want the answer. I didn't always feel as comfortable as I do know. I asked, and answered things that I typically don't get asked, and don't address. I hope in doing so the 75-ish kids I spoke with left school feeling much more secure in who they are, and all the things they'll never be.

If someone told me then ...

Osteio
   Osteiogenesis
     Osteiogenesis Imperfecta
             Translation, in it's purest Latin form : Imperfect bones from the beginning.
Layman's terms Brittle Bone Disease. 

What does all this mean? Well who the hell knows. 25 years ago it was as much of a mystery as it is now. I spent more energy, than I care to admit, attempting to turn imperfect bones into a perfect life. Let me tell you how well that worked. I embraced my imperfect bones, years ago. In fact I love the stories it gives me tell, and relish the opportunities when I get to tell them. The doctor in me still thrives on "scar stories." 

If someone told me then to stop chasing perfection, I wouldn't have spent 30 years feeling that I've failed. However, if I didn't spend 30 years feeling that I've failed how would I be in a position to show people that they haven't?

Ressilency

The question I'm asked most often but dread the most is "how do you do it?" The truth is I don't know. I guess, because I always have. I know no other way of life. You just get up and keep going. I guess if I were sitting on the opposite side of my life, I'd want to know the same thing.

There's no manual for life, If there were every one's life would be a hell of alot easier.

So I find it ironic that I've been asked to give of a speech on resiliency. That's something that I can't teach. That's something that can't be taught. It's a form of courage, that you will embrace or you wont.

I threw myself head first into my life, with reckless abandon. Not the kind of recklessness that leads you down the wrong path. Instead, my thought was that not much could really get any worse. I had to do something. So ... I did everything. In the process I broke 91 bones- 91 bones that would have broken anyway.

There's do and there's don't. I often find myself on the side of do.

My body is covered with scars. Each scar maps a  place that was cut into, a place that I handed over to someone, with the hope that it would lead some where "better." If you follow the trail of my scars, you essentially follow my evolution. But what allows you to follow the evolution of my spirit?

I'd rather have my body covered with scars, than spirit broken.- Broken by all the scars of broken wishes, and lost dreams of all the things I never did.

I guess that is resiliency.

There's the world ... There's the home and than thaere's me ...

I just had a dispute with my father, about my desire to buy a home and customize the kitchen, Why is that a concept too hard for him to grasp? I guess my situation is impossible to understand until you live in a world that does not "fit" you.

Everyday I exsist in a world that was not designed for my exsistance. After a day full of climbing and reaching I don't want to come home to a place where I have to do the same. It's exhausting to drag a step stool around my kitchen and climb up and down just to cook a chicken breast!

My life is taking on a new direction and I'm finally starting to feel that there are places where I can "fit"

Mom, You were supposed to write this. The foreword to to this very book, was to be written by mom. What I learned through the process of this reflection, and illustration on all the years that are my life is simple: My mom already wrote the foreword. On July 21,1980 my mom started this story. That is the day that my mom gave me life. Every breath I took, fall I had, and cast I wore was because of that fateful day in the summer of 1980. My mom was the start, support and reason for all that I am.

Am I strong? Certainly. Am I fragile? Of course. That is the paradox of being Taniya. What was the constant, that steadied me was mom. Every time she drove me to hospital, wiped away my tears, picked me up when I fell, encouraged me to succeed and held me tight when I believed that I failed she was writing. She had no clue, that she was writing the foreword to my life. She is just as, if not more, responsible for the pages and chapters that follow.

On July 21, 1980 my gave birth to me. She gave me the opportunity to live and breath. She gave me strength and determination. She made every success and moment of "overcoming" possible. And on July 3, 2009 my mom gave me MY LIFE . She held her head high, and silently said "Now, I wrote the foreword: it's time for you to go forth and finish your story."

The pages, months, and years that follow are her's as much as they are mine. nd thus ... here is OUR story.