Hey guys! Now I'm not one to bitch ... at least I don't think I bitch? (you guys read my blog ... do I bitch?) That was so off topic ...
I knew when I decided to go into medicine, that things would not be easy. I'm not just talking academically, either. I knew there would would be physical roadblocks to jump over. I knew labs would physically be a challenge. I've never seen a lab table that I could reach. I also can't stand for extended periods of time. I took all the necessary steps to circumvent any problems. Faculty told me all about the newly built Science labs with stools, and adaptable equipment. (whatever that is.)
Not to my surprise, it's time to use the microscopes and I can't see into mine. Not the biggest deal in the world, I just climb up onto the lab table, cross my legs and begin my lab. (much to the school's dismay I'm sure- being that these are brand new labs and all.)
Me and my microscope are drawing lots of attention. (but when do I not draw attention.) Suddenly some peppy blond girl says to me: "why don't you just raise the chair?" Now, I'm sure that was a genuine idea, but I've been 4' tall a majority of my adult life. And the time that I wasn't 4' I was 3'. Raising chairs, and sitting on things is lil people 101. Did she really think I didn't try that?
Getting up and down to mount slides, get new slides and all the other happenings becomes taxing. (Plus I'm trying not to fall in front of a class of 24 people. - Well all know I fall alot!) The professor sees me struggle, and offers to excuse me from the lab. Is she serious? I'm going into medicine, and she's willing to let me skip a lab of looking at bacteria through a microscope? Probably now her best idea! I tell her I want to participate. I want to mount smelly pound water on a slide, and look for miro-organisms. After all they do have me paying 500.00 a semester for "lab fees." I want my 500.00 worth of pond water! We settle on me working on her desk. That was successful(none of her papers were lost or damaged by the pound water. And than peppy blond comes back: "I think those chairs go pretty high!" She has now turned her lab exercise into testing the hight of chairs??
I learned long ago that the world wont change for me. I have to literally, and figuratively, rise up to meet the world. At 31 years old it's my way of life. It's not even something I'm conscious of, anymore. While other people might notice me climbing up on a table or standing on a chair, it's something I do without thought. What I have become aware of is that every time attention is drawn to me, it's usually also drawn to something that needs to change. I'm not naive enough to think I'll change the world. Although I would love me headstone to read: "Here lies Taniya, the girl who changed the world." That won't happen. But I can change a bio lab.
I walk into banks, and see lower ATM machines, with an option to have it speak to you. Why is that slight change in place? Because enough people noticed the little person jumping up and down to try and get his ATM card out. Or the blind or illiterate man ask a passerby to please read the choices to him.
That's what peppy doesn't understand. In this world I am a micro organism, and this lab is so much bigger than me. I know how to adapt. I'm confident enough to have the class stare at me while I sit on top of the lab table. What about the kid that comes after me? What happens to the shy, fresh out of HS disabled kid, who just wants to use that microscope? What if he's afraid to ask for what he needs, so he does accept the offer to be excused from the lab? Where does that leave him? Behind his classmates, academically? Or behind his peers, socially?
So while I know all the "peppys" are well-meaning, they are quite counterproductive. It does the world no good, if I just find a way to raise MY chair. I'll always find a way to "make it work." But in the process, let me make it a bit easier for others to be able to HAVE it work!!
And that's my rant for the night!
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Accepted
Self acceptance is a strange thing. It's an elusive ideal, that you can: believe you have, want to have or pretend to have. Yet, it's not until you've really discovered it that you realize what you've you never had.... I always felt that I accepted myself, but in recent months, I realized that I haven't. 31 years old and I'm just learning to accept myself.
OI was this gorilla on my back. I tried for years to carry it effortlessly, and succeeded. If I pretended it wasn't there than it wasn't. But that lack of acknowledgement, became a sense of denial.
Sure I loved my "parlor tricks." I have double-jointed fingers, I broke 92 bones (yes, I got an extra one over the summer!!) and have been been broken apart and put back together more times than I can count. I love my scar stories. I tell them and love the responses they illicit. In that respect I hold my OI in high esteem. However, I never wanted that "stigma" of having OI.
I just started referring to myself as a "little person." I've accepted that this is a characteristic, and not an all-encompassing definition of me.
I've accepted that I will be a PA and still have OI. I will be a mother that's the same size as my child. I will be a wife who happens to have seizures. I have to be able to incorporate, and these own these characteristics just another adjective. I would never deny being black or being female. Why are all my medical adjectives, so hard for me own?
My love life has been at a standstill, and I've seen great relationships fall apart ...
Maybe the the old adage is true - Who will love you if you don't love yourself.
My confidence is finally matched with my own acceptance.
OI was this gorilla on my back. I tried for years to carry it effortlessly, and succeeded. If I pretended it wasn't there than it wasn't. But that lack of acknowledgement, became a sense of denial.
Sure I loved my "parlor tricks." I have double-jointed fingers, I broke 92 bones (yes, I got an extra one over the summer!!) and have been been broken apart and put back together more times than I can count. I love my scar stories. I tell them and love the responses they illicit. In that respect I hold my OI in high esteem. However, I never wanted that "stigma" of having OI.
I just started referring to myself as a "little person." I've accepted that this is a characteristic, and not an all-encompassing definition of me.
I've accepted that I will be a PA and still have OI. I will be a mother that's the same size as my child. I will be a wife who happens to have seizures. I have to be able to incorporate, and these own these characteristics just another adjective. I would never deny being black or being female. Why are all my medical adjectives, so hard for me own?
My love life has been at a standstill, and I've seen great relationships fall apart ...
Maybe the the old adage is true - Who will love you if you don't love yourself.
My confidence is finally matched with my own acceptance.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Must learn when to cut your losses
When you're in your formidable school years, friendship is everything. You lose yourself in your relationships with others. It's easy to find yourself at a point where you define yourself by who you know. The more schools I speak at, and the more students who reach out to me, it's clear how vital this is.
It's easy to advise that the importance of these relationships lessen as time passes. That's not the case. Nor is that the advice I give. I'm 31 years old (goodness, I'm 31!!) and still find myself wanting to get lost in other people. I find myself engaging in mindless gossip, and immature conversations. I'm taking pre-med classes, yet I still concern myself wanting to know who is dating who. Really? I have Statistics homework to get done, and I care which one of my friends had sex last night? These where the conversations that centered me, among my friends, 15 years ago.
It's easy to condemn yourself, or others for such immaturity. What I've learned is that this is not immaturity at all: It's a subconscious longing to cling to who you thought you were. When you define yourself, or lose yourself in the abyss of other people it's hard to let go. When everything you think is true, is exposed as a mirage, you have to question everything. - It's like the pair of size 3 jeans that I keep at the bottom of my drawer, with the hope that someday they'll fit again. (They've been there for 2 years!) No matter how cute, wonderful, or comfortable: some things just don't fit anymore.
When that happens you have to remember that you've grown "bigger." The people, conversations, and the simplicity is just as small, and unimportant as it's always been. - I can't tell you how to rationalize that, because I haven't decoded that, myself. Although, I do know it is the most "real" thing you can do for yourself.
Engage yourself in things that you must continue to grow, in an effort to reach. We so often cheat ourselves to remain with who and what is familiar. I've kept myself "safe" by doing this. In that safety you stifle yourself, subconsciously. I've been there. I am there...
A guarded heart protected, for safe-keeping, for some who will never return. A box filled with notes written to a 15 year old- Ramblings of nothing unspoken by a 15 year old. Like the size three jeans, these are things that will never fit again.
To the girl who tells me: "I don't fit in." I have this to say: You do fit in somewhere, and someone fits with you. Lose yourself in that, that's part of being young. We all need to see ourselves in something, or someone. But what you must know is as you grow, cut your losses, and fortify your identity. At some point you will need to face a mirror and see yourself in YOU. - That's a position that takes years to GROW into.
It's easy to advise that the importance of these relationships lessen as time passes. That's not the case. Nor is that the advice I give. I'm 31 years old (goodness, I'm 31!!) and still find myself wanting to get lost in other people. I find myself engaging in mindless gossip, and immature conversations. I'm taking pre-med classes, yet I still concern myself wanting to know who is dating who. Really? I have Statistics homework to get done, and I care which one of my friends had sex last night? These where the conversations that centered me, among my friends, 15 years ago.
It's easy to condemn yourself, or others for such immaturity. What I've learned is that this is not immaturity at all: It's a subconscious longing to cling to who you thought you were. When you define yourself, or lose yourself in the abyss of other people it's hard to let go. When everything you think is true, is exposed as a mirage, you have to question everything. - It's like the pair of size 3 jeans that I keep at the bottom of my drawer, with the hope that someday they'll fit again. (They've been there for 2 years!) No matter how cute, wonderful, or comfortable: some things just don't fit anymore.
When that happens you have to remember that you've grown "bigger." The people, conversations, and the simplicity is just as small, and unimportant as it's always been. - I can't tell you how to rationalize that, because I haven't decoded that, myself. Although, I do know it is the most "real" thing you can do for yourself.
Engage yourself in things that you must continue to grow, in an effort to reach. We so often cheat ourselves to remain with who and what is familiar. I've kept myself "safe" by doing this. In that safety you stifle yourself, subconsciously. I've been there. I am there...
A guarded heart protected, for safe-keeping, for some who will never return. A box filled with notes written to a 15 year old- Ramblings of nothing unspoken by a 15 year old. Like the size three jeans, these are things that will never fit again.
To the girl who tells me: "I don't fit in." I have this to say: You do fit in somewhere, and someone fits with you. Lose yourself in that, that's part of being young. We all need to see ourselves in something, or someone. But what you must know is as you grow, cut your losses, and fortify your identity. At some point you will need to face a mirror and see yourself in YOU. - That's a position that takes years to GROW into.
Friday, July 15, 2011
If I verbalize it it makes it so?
I registered for classes, at Farmingdale. I'm in: Bio, Chem and Anatomy and Physiology. Crazy isn't it? I know that I have just about everything set to go, but I still am clinging to the "emergency exit door." I'm committed, but not "invested" yet. I still thought about backing out. I knew that I could if I wanted to.
The other day someone asked: "are you still looking for a job?" Without thought I replied: "I'm only looking for something part time, because I'm going back to school." - I guess I am, no invested. I let the words just fall out of my mouth. It was effortless, and subconscious. So that's what I'm doing ...
I'm terrified, I'm 30, and I'm confused but I'm going back to school. That seems so crazy to me. Especially the fear part. I can't remember the last time that I've been this scared. - this "over my head."
Then it's hard watching all my friends move forward, while I stand this stagnant. There are: fiances, new apartments, living on your own, new babies and first houses. Am I pushing all these away to "go back to school?" Will I ever have these things? How long can I live in my dad's house? (NOT much longer!) I don't want to be the 40 year old woman, casually dating, explaining away my lack of a family with the cliche :I was busy with my career."
Back to the here and now: I'll be starting school August 27. Who would have guessed that the girl who was labeled "disabled," underestimated in school, and thrown into "special ed" would become the woman who is about to enter a Pre-med program?
I could say I always knew but that sounds cocky, doesn't it? I did always know that I could, and would arrive at this point ... what I did underestimate was: how terrified I'd be when I got here!
The other day someone asked: "are you still looking for a job?" Without thought I replied: "I'm only looking for something part time, because I'm going back to school." - I guess I am, no invested. I let the words just fall out of my mouth. It was effortless, and subconscious. So that's what I'm doing ...
I'm terrified, I'm 30, and I'm confused but I'm going back to school. That seems so crazy to me. Especially the fear part. I can't remember the last time that I've been this scared. - this "over my head."
Then it's hard watching all my friends move forward, while I stand this stagnant. There are: fiances, new apartments, living on your own, new babies and first houses. Am I pushing all these away to "go back to school?" Will I ever have these things? How long can I live in my dad's house? (NOT much longer!) I don't want to be the 40 year old woman, casually dating, explaining away my lack of a family with the cliche :I was busy with my career."
Back to the here and now: I'll be starting school August 27. Who would have guessed that the girl who was labeled "disabled," underestimated in school, and thrown into "special ed" would become the woman who is about to enter a Pre-med program?
I could say I always knew but that sounds cocky, doesn't it? I did always know that I could, and would arrive at this point ... what I did underestimate was: how terrified I'd be when I got here!
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Is this how it feels to be 18?
I'm going back to school. That is really no surprise, I've always loved being in a class. I knew that a Master's degree was in reach, and it's something that I want. Yet, I'm taking a Statistics that leaves me feeling so out of my element. I don't remember college math. Hell I don't remember college...
I don't remember feeling insecure and inadequate. I don't remember the strong fear of failure, and terror or those feelings! I can't recall the pursuit of perfection, and the crushing reality of the inability to have it. I can't remember the pressure, I held on my shoulders: pressures of my own design.
That's a lie: I've felt all the above yesterday. I remember far more than I would want to admit. I'm still the person who whats to be perfect, and a Master's program is not the place for that. I'm in one class and am already feeling the anxiety well up within me.
It's hard for me, because I always want to be the smartest person in the room.... or at least feel like it. - And now struggling in Statistics throws my intelligence under a microscope. But who's really looking? I think it's just me.
I'm not sure if I can cut it, in a Master's Program. I'm not sure that I'm not setting myself up for failure. If I jump head first into something that I'm not ready for I know I'll fail, or die trying not to. - That option is a burden in itself. It's a burden on me, before the semester even starts.
I don't remember feeling insecure and inadequate. I don't remember the strong fear of failure, and terror or those feelings! I can't recall the pursuit of perfection, and the crushing reality of the inability to have it. I can't remember the pressure, I held on my shoulders: pressures of my own design.
That's a lie: I've felt all the above yesterday. I remember far more than I would want to admit. I'm still the person who whats to be perfect, and a Master's program is not the place for that. I'm in one class and am already feeling the anxiety well up within me.
It's hard for me, because I always want to be the smartest person in the room.... or at least feel like it. - And now struggling in Statistics throws my intelligence under a microscope. But who's really looking? I think it's just me.
I'm not sure if I can cut it, in a Master's Program. I'm not sure that I'm not setting myself up for failure. If I jump head first into something that I'm not ready for I know I'll fail, or die trying not to. - That option is a burden in itself. It's a burden on me, before the semester even starts.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Sabotage
Do I self sabotage? The cards have always been stacked against me, on their own. Yet in some situations I feel like I knock them down and stack them higher. I get on a path of what I think I want, and at some point I stop and reconsider.
I want to be a Physician Assistant- or do I? I do. I know I do. Yet I'm coming up with every reason not to. I generally don't give into the: "it's too hard." Instead I'm facing "I want children." I'm too old." "I can't afford it." "I need to support myself." "I need to live on my own." All of that is true. But I also want a career. I struggle with how bad I want a career.
I know people who have "jobs," and they make a decent money. Many are satisfied, even if only marginally so. That's my issue - I don't want to just be satisfied, but I feel like I'm too far behind to be happy.
I don't want to settle, but I feel like I've just been winging it. I set my sights, and then reset my mind. I did the same thing with theatre. I got out of college, and was offered small jobs. Not well paying jobs, but it was a step in the direction I was pursuing. Am I going to do that again? Will I get another degree that I don't use? Am I collecting degrees? Is that I want to do.
Do I want a bunch of degrees, just to say that I was able to get them. Or do I get them, and really not know why I wanted them,
Someone said that I may self sabotage everything I attempt. That's not it at all. I try to circumvent failure. I'm so terrified that I wont succeed. I guess, I'm not giving myself the opportunity fail. That also doesn't give me the opportunity to succeed.
I want to be a Physician Assistant- or do I? I do. I know I do. Yet I'm coming up with every reason not to. I generally don't give into the: "it's too hard." Instead I'm facing "I want children." I'm too old." "I can't afford it." "I need to support myself." "I need to live on my own." All of that is true. But I also want a career. I struggle with how bad I want a career.
I know people who have "jobs," and they make a decent money. Many are satisfied, even if only marginally so. That's my issue - I don't want to just be satisfied, but I feel like I'm too far behind to be happy.
I don't want to settle, but I feel like I've just been winging it. I set my sights, and then reset my mind. I did the same thing with theatre. I got out of college, and was offered small jobs. Not well paying jobs, but it was a step in the direction I was pursuing. Am I going to do that again? Will I get another degree that I don't use? Am I collecting degrees? Is that I want to do.
Do I want a bunch of degrees, just to say that I was able to get them. Or do I get them, and really not know why I wanted them,
Someone said that I may self sabotage everything I attempt. That's not it at all. I try to circumvent failure. I'm so terrified that I wont succeed. I guess, I'm not giving myself the opportunity fail. That also doesn't give me the opportunity to succeed.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Drowning
The girl who always got everything right, wanted everything perfect is now drowning in a sea of her own perfection.
This is not to imply that I'm "perfect," because lord knows I'm not. However, I faked perfection well! I lied to myself, and the world. I chased after "A's" as if my life depended on it. I didn't care about the grade! I cared about being better than all the rest. I cared about "beating out" the masses. In many situations I did.
When there was situation, in which I came up short: I pulled it. That closely guarded trump card was there for moments like this.
You got an "A", while I got a "B." Well I had an Intercranial Brain Hemorrhage Little miss "A" can't say that. You got cast in the lead, while I'm in the chorus. Guess what: In the chorus I'll be dancing and I wasn't even supposed to walk! You're getting married? Well there's a guy in my life who makes breakfast by my side, even though I'm 4' tall (OK so you beat me there!)
These were never used as excuses. These were simply my ways, in which I can't be beat. But now what. I'm caught up in myself created delusion that I've beat out the world. However, it's a very insulated world in which I lived. It's been a world filled with people who watched my feats, and cared: a world that accepted I'd always have "one-up" on them.
Now there's a school in which 1,800 people will compete for 44 spots. When someone beats me in this arena, I wont care about 91 broken bones in my past. That wont numb the failure. The people who can beat me now are faceless and nameless. That terrifies me. What else do I have to erase any future failures?
Failing: I'm terrified of failing. Nothing rocks my core, more than a failure. nothing cuts my soul like rejection.
I feel over my head: trying to get a date. wanting to go to school, needing to find a job. I'm overwhelmed. I'm shaking, and it's not the coffee. I'm drowning in my need to feel better than someone. I need a counterpart, willing to fail in front of me to erase my own inadequacies.
How terrible does that sound?
This is not to imply that I'm "perfect," because lord knows I'm not. However, I faked perfection well! I lied to myself, and the world. I chased after "A's" as if my life depended on it. I didn't care about the grade! I cared about being better than all the rest. I cared about "beating out" the masses. In many situations I did.
When there was situation, in which I came up short: I pulled it. That closely guarded trump card was there for moments like this.
You got an "A", while I got a "B." Well I had an Intercranial Brain Hemorrhage Little miss "A" can't say that. You got cast in the lead, while I'm in the chorus. Guess what: In the chorus I'll be dancing and I wasn't even supposed to walk! You're getting married? Well there's a guy in my life who makes breakfast by my side, even though I'm 4' tall (OK so you beat me there!)
These were never used as excuses. These were simply my ways, in which I can't be beat. But now what. I'm caught up in myself created delusion that I've beat out the world. However, it's a very insulated world in which I lived. It's been a world filled with people who watched my feats, and cared: a world that accepted I'd always have "one-up" on them.
Now there's a school in which 1,800 people will compete for 44 spots. When someone beats me in this arena, I wont care about 91 broken bones in my past. That wont numb the failure. The people who can beat me now are faceless and nameless. That terrifies me. What else do I have to erase any future failures?
Failing: I'm terrified of failing. Nothing rocks my core, more than a failure. nothing cuts my soul like rejection.
I feel over my head: trying to get a date. wanting to go to school, needing to find a job. I'm overwhelmed. I'm shaking, and it's not the coffee. I'm drowning in my need to feel better than someone. I need a counterpart, willing to fail in front of me to erase my own inadequacies.
How terrible does that sound?
Friday, April 15, 2011
The girl in the airport ...
I've reached a point where I'm not happy for the people I love. As terrible as that sounds, I just can't be. I sometimes feel consumed by envy. I never went through this phase, when I was younger. I guess that leaves me entitled to feel it now. However, in this minute it feels all consuming. I'm caught in a swirl of everyone else's good news. I want to be happy for them. I want to rejoice with you because you have: great children, a beautiful home, an awesome boyfriend, a husband that treats you like gold, a job you love, a career you always wanted, a family that adores you ...
So while I stand here watching all your planes take off, I'm stuck with a delayed layover ...
So while I stand here watching all your planes take off, I'm stuck with a delayed layover ...
Sunday, April 10, 2011
It's today
It's April 10, 2011. Today marks 8 years since my "rebirth." Essentially 8 years ago was the day I was going to die. It was clear, I was dying. As I lay on that gym floor, falling in and out of conscience I knew I wasn't well I also knew that I was too weak and powerless to do anything about it. I had almost succumb to the situation, that was about to be.
I've been asked what I was thinking, and, feeling laying on that gym floor. I wasn't thinking anything. I was so oblivious to what the world around me. I was feeling excruciating pain. It was pain that seemed to encompass my entire body. The totality of who I am was wrapped inside a Migraine. I do recall a fleeting moment, in which I thought: "Someone needs to find me!" I could not tell you how much time lapsed between that thought, and that thought materializing.
I soon saw Niki and Vanessa standing above me. Vanessa's long hair was tickling my nose, and she was all decked out in her costume for Anything Goes." I was trapped somewhere between pain, surrealism and a musical! That pretty much summed up all of my time at Five Towns.
Niki and Vanessa kept asking me questions. The biggest was "what's wrong." I wish I knew. I couldn't move. I couldn't think, I couldn't talk and, I felt no pain. I was in a moment of no pain, and no fear. With all the frantic questions and actions happening around me, I didn't have the thought process to be afraid. I finally got enough energy to tell them where to find my cell phone, and he to call. After that I checked out. I don't know where I went, or what happened, until several days, when I woke up.
I still can only know what happened based on stories that are relayed to me, and the small amount of medical documentation I was provided with. The story goes like this ...
8 long weeks of Migraines culminated in, what was, an intercranial Brain Hemorrhage, that was about to take my life. I was dying on that gym floor. I got to Stony Brook Hospital, with only hours to live. Quick decisions, and trust, an 11 hour surgery and a 3 day medically induced coma and here I am.
I don't even think Vanessa or Niki even realize how instrumental they were in me being here. I still, to this day, have no clue how the two of them knew to come look for me. Hell I can't even figure out how it ended up being the two of them. This all took place during a costume fitting, for Anything Goes. How the actress and the Stage Manager ended up together, is beyond me. And their mutual decision to "find me" still blows my mind.
They made a decision to save my life, without even knowing.
I've been asked what I was thinking, and, feeling laying on that gym floor. I wasn't thinking anything. I was so oblivious to what the world around me. I was feeling excruciating pain. It was pain that seemed to encompass my entire body. The totality of who I am was wrapped inside a Migraine. I do recall a fleeting moment, in which I thought: "Someone needs to find me!" I could not tell you how much time lapsed between that thought, and that thought materializing.
I soon saw Niki and Vanessa standing above me. Vanessa's long hair was tickling my nose, and she was all decked out in her costume for Anything Goes." I was trapped somewhere between pain, surrealism and a musical! That pretty much summed up all of my time at Five Towns.
Niki and Vanessa kept asking me questions. The biggest was "what's wrong." I wish I knew. I couldn't move. I couldn't think, I couldn't talk and, I felt no pain. I was in a moment of no pain, and no fear. With all the frantic questions and actions happening around me, I didn't have the thought process to be afraid. I finally got enough energy to tell them where to find my cell phone, and he to call. After that I checked out. I don't know where I went, or what happened, until several days, when I woke up.
I still can only know what happened based on stories that are relayed to me, and the small amount of medical documentation I was provided with. The story goes like this ...
8 long weeks of Migraines culminated in, what was, an intercranial Brain Hemorrhage, that was about to take my life. I was dying on that gym floor. I got to Stony Brook Hospital, with only hours to live. Quick decisions, and trust, an 11 hour surgery and a 3 day medically induced coma and here I am.
I don't even think Vanessa or Niki even realize how instrumental they were in me being here. I still, to this day, have no clue how the two of them knew to come look for me. Hell I can't even figure out how it ended up being the two of them. This all took place during a costume fitting, for Anything Goes. How the actress and the Stage Manager ended up together, is beyond me. And their mutual decision to "find me" still blows my mind.
They made a decision to save my life, without even knowing.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
I'll stand by you
I heard I'll stand by you, tonight, and it was as if it were the first time I'd ever heard that song. Obviously, I've heard that song multiple times in pop culture. Yet tonight, it resonated so loudly. Each lyric pulsed through my veins. I remember the last time I heard that song, and felt that.
The summer of 2007 was one of the lowest moments in my life. I sat trapped ... trapped in a house I could not leave and stuck in a body I could not move. I was paralyzed by external fixators, protruding out of, both, my legs. I had no choice but to sit there. I tried to exist among the metal and gauze. No mater how hard I tried I got lost within the situation. I felt alone. I felt scared. I felt worthless. Last but not least, I felt invisible.
And there was mom. Amid all my tears she stood in the doorway of our kitchen and sang. That woman belted out I'll stand by you. (boy, did she let her inner diva out.) That's a memory I'll never forget. "...Won't let nobody hurt you ..." - She never fell short there. Moms are real good at protection, aren't they?
In more ways than one, I'm free. I'm free to leave, move, walk, and anything else I may want. With that comes the responsibility of standing by yourself.
The summer of 2007 was one of the lowest moments in my life. I sat trapped ... trapped in a house I could not leave and stuck in a body I could not move. I was paralyzed by external fixators, protruding out of, both, my legs. I had no choice but to sit there. I tried to exist among the metal and gauze. No mater how hard I tried I got lost within the situation. I felt alone. I felt scared. I felt worthless. Last but not least, I felt invisible.
And there was mom. Amid all my tears she stood in the doorway of our kitchen and sang. That woman belted out I'll stand by you. (boy, did she let her inner diva out.) That's a memory I'll never forget. "...Won't let nobody hurt you ..." - She never fell short there. Moms are real good at protection, aren't they?
In more ways than one, I'm free. I'm free to leave, move, walk, and anything else I may want. With that comes the responsibility of standing by yourself.
Monday, March 28, 2011
???
I question everything. I break everything down to it's simplest form, in hopes of securing an answer. Somehow, I always come up empty. I thought I found what I wanted to do with my life, and then I began questioning that. Do I really want to go into medicine? I studied theatre, and with every fiber of my being wanted to be a director. I gave that up. I gave up. That's not me. Taniya doesn't give up. Taniya's dreams have changed for 30 years. Every second, of every day I feel like I should be doing something else.
I've never been enough, and I feel like I'll always search for "enough." I've waited for something to "call" me. I knew when I heard that call I'd know exactly what I should do, and where I should go. - I would just know, right?
Then I watched my mom die. I made every decision, as I watched every labored breath she attempted to take. Every piece of information that I could find, I pulled. I spent countless hours on the Internet, and reading books. I spoke with every doctor I knew. - that was a challenge. I called, and called, and called again. I left countless messages until I received calls back. I violated HIPAA laws.- I snuck peeks at her chart. I memorized the information, so I could go over it with every doctor who did call me back. I saw her before, during and after. And then I held her hand when she died. - That's when I heard my "call." If I could: get that invested in my mom's medical treatment, look and every wound, and read every gory detail, of someone much more than a patient ... I could be treating patients.
So what? OK I can handle blood, and death. I still felt that I was making a rash decision. Maybe I just wanted to "fix people" because I couldn't "fix" my mom. Maybe I simply, wanted to save families from feeling the hurt I felt so deeply. After all: I only wanted to act so I didn't have to be the girl in wheelchair. Then I learned that I couldn't act (how I wanted) because I was the girl in the wheelchair. So then I didn't want medicine, either.
Recently, it all became so clear. That "call" became a scream. OF COURSE YOU NEED TO BE IN MEDICINE! - NO you don't want death! You want life. More importantly, you want your life. That "scream" came in the form of someone two feet and more than 20 years younger than I. I've heard that before: "embrace OI, and see yourself in the children that need to be seen. To simply say: "I've been there," negates the magnitude of what I have to do.
This world was not made for me. I learned a long time ago, it won't adapt for me. I have to adapt to meet the challenges, life presents. It's easy for any doctor, to say: "I've treated this before." "I've seen this." I've grown up my whole life with those doctors. Where's the professional who can say : "I've had this done." "Yes, it will hurt like hell." "No, it's not going to fix everything, but I KNOW it's worth it!" I always wanted a Doctor who understood. It's not all all about medical terms and scalpels. Where's the empathy, and compassion....
A four year old showed me , that's where I come in!
I've never been enough, and I feel like I'll always search for "enough." I've waited for something to "call" me. I knew when I heard that call I'd know exactly what I should do, and where I should go. - I would just know, right?
Then I watched my mom die. I made every decision, as I watched every labored breath she attempted to take. Every piece of information that I could find, I pulled. I spent countless hours on the Internet, and reading books. I spoke with every doctor I knew. - that was a challenge. I called, and called, and called again. I left countless messages until I received calls back. I violated HIPAA laws.- I snuck peeks at her chart. I memorized the information, so I could go over it with every doctor who did call me back. I saw her before, during and after. And then I held her hand when she died. - That's when I heard my "call." If I could: get that invested in my mom's medical treatment, look and every wound, and read every gory detail, of someone much more than a patient ... I could be treating patients.
So what? OK I can handle blood, and death. I still felt that I was making a rash decision. Maybe I just wanted to "fix people" because I couldn't "fix" my mom. Maybe I simply, wanted to save families from feeling the hurt I felt so deeply. After all: I only wanted to act so I didn't have to be the girl in wheelchair. Then I learned that I couldn't act (how I wanted) because I was the girl in the wheelchair. So then I didn't want medicine, either.
Recently, it all became so clear. That "call" became a scream. OF COURSE YOU NEED TO BE IN MEDICINE! - NO you don't want death! You want life. More importantly, you want your life. That "scream" came in the form of someone two feet and more than 20 years younger than I. I've heard that before: "embrace OI, and see yourself in the children that need to be seen. To simply say: "I've been there," negates the magnitude of what I have to do.
This world was not made for me. I learned a long time ago, it won't adapt for me. I have to adapt to meet the challenges, life presents. It's easy for any doctor, to say: "I've treated this before." "I've seen this." I've grown up my whole life with those doctors. Where's the professional who can say : "I've had this done." "Yes, it will hurt like hell." "No, it's not going to fix everything, but I KNOW it's worth it!" I always wanted a Doctor who understood. It's not all all about medical terms and scalpels. Where's the empathy, and compassion....
A four year old showed me , that's where I come in!
Sunday, March 20, 2011
To cut or not to cut ... that is the question
I'm contemplating having the "seizure surgery." It's hard to think of having an ELECTIVE surgery on your Brain, but sometimes it's hard not to...
There's always that lingering fear that a seizure will happen, and where I might be when it does. If one happens, and the DMV gets word of it, I lose my license for 12 months. - One whole year of trying to rely on some of the most unreliable people. That, in itself, is terrifying.
I've had my seizures under control, for several months, and that's security. Yet, my doctor looked at me and said: "I was thinking for you, long term, and there's a surgeon I meant send you to." Now that didn't give me the warm fuzzies, but maybe it's something to consider. A life on 2,500 milligrams of anticonvulsants, a day, may not be the best option.
There's no guarantee that this surgery will even work. Essentially, it is just cutting out the section of the Brain, where the seizure originates. There is a chance that the surgery will do nothing, or even make things worse. I ask myself if it's a risk worth taking.
Part of me wants to do it, because I have the choice! Back in '03 when I had that Hemorrhage, I had no say. All of those decisions were made for me. I was, blissfully, unaware. I remember waking up, after being in a coma for five days, and not understanding what happened. I could not wrap my head around the magnitude of what I endured. I didn't feel the swelling, in the whole right side of my face. I didn't know that I slept through five days of my life. It all came together, my first day home: I had walked into the bathroom, and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror - the whole right side of my head was shaved. Both of my eyes were black and blue. The swelling had not completely subsided. I was not prepared to see any of that. I felt ugly, I felt like so much had been taken from me, and appearance reflected that. I almost didn't care, that I could still speak and see. All my cognition was still intact, but I pissed that I had part of that decision.
This time, I'd be saying "Go ahead and shave my head!" "It's OK that you may leave me without the ability, to speak, move, think ..." "I don't mind that I'll have a hell of a fight ahead of me." "I believe in you enough to allow you in my head." More importantly, it would say: "see I can do it all over again!"
So I guess it's not JUST seizure control I'm seeking! - Yes, I'm a control freak!
There's always that lingering fear that a seizure will happen, and where I might be when it does. If one happens, and the DMV gets word of it, I lose my license for 12 months. - One whole year of trying to rely on some of the most unreliable people. That, in itself, is terrifying.
I've had my seizures under control, for several months, and that's security. Yet, my doctor looked at me and said: "I was thinking for you, long term, and there's a surgeon I meant send you to." Now that didn't give me the warm fuzzies, but maybe it's something to consider. A life on 2,500 milligrams of anticonvulsants, a day, may not be the best option.
There's no guarantee that this surgery will even work. Essentially, it is just cutting out the section of the Brain, where the seizure originates. There is a chance that the surgery will do nothing, or even make things worse. I ask myself if it's a risk worth taking.
Part of me wants to do it, because I have the choice! Back in '03 when I had that Hemorrhage, I had no say. All of those decisions were made for me. I was, blissfully, unaware. I remember waking up, after being in a coma for five days, and not understanding what happened. I could not wrap my head around the magnitude of what I endured. I didn't feel the swelling, in the whole right side of my face. I didn't know that I slept through five days of my life. It all came together, my first day home: I had walked into the bathroom, and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror - the whole right side of my head was shaved. Both of my eyes were black and blue. The swelling had not completely subsided. I was not prepared to see any of that. I felt ugly, I felt like so much had been taken from me, and appearance reflected that. I almost didn't care, that I could still speak and see. All my cognition was still intact, but I pissed that I had part of that decision.
This time, I'd be saying "Go ahead and shave my head!" "It's OK that you may leave me without the ability, to speak, move, think ..." "I don't mind that I'll have a hell of a fight ahead of me." "I believe in you enough to allow you in my head." More importantly, it would say: "see I can do it all over again!"
So I guess it's not JUST seizure control I'm seeking! - Yes, I'm a control freak!
Friday, March 18, 2011
Accomplished
I was speaking with a person familiar with OI. In fact it is a person that knows someone with OI. In my 30 years of life I've learned alot of things. There are so many fears, that go along with having this disease. So much is still unknown, and undiscovered. When I was first diagnosed, nothing was known. There was no genetic testing. I said this morning I have no actual "proof" that I have OI: but I do, and Doctor's didn't need a test to conclude I, in fact, have OI.
When I speak with the newly diagnosed, or parents of diagnosed children, I hear the. I recognize the uncertainty. There's this bleak picture that bursts into the forefront of our minds, when we hear 91 broken bones, or ten Orthopeadic surgeries. I know that all sounds scary, but I feel it is a blessing.
Sure every broken bone hurt, Some surgeries were so unbearable, that I didn't think I'd get through it. My last surgery, was corrective, and took two years to be completed. This was an elective surgery, and I found myself often saying: "if it aint broke, why'd the hell did you try to fix it!" But the outcome of that surgery was amazing. I can stand straighter, than I've ever stood before. That, alone, has relieved so much pain.
There's accomplishment. - Always an accomplishment to be had.
Think of every time, you score an awesome job, move into a new apartment, learn to do something, you've always wanted to learn, have a child, get married, buy a puppy - All those are accomplishments: big or small, you get to be proud of. I get to have that feeling, all the time.
Every time a cast come off and I've "rehabed" the injury I get to be proud. Surgeries I've come through, make me feel so accomplished and full of pride. Missing weeks of college, and graduating on time, felt amazing.
I have the everyday accomplishments, as well. But, it's the ones that I'm used to, that feel extra special.
It's not all roses. It WAS real hard. So for the "newbies" move from the fear, and move towards the "WAS." Bones strengthen, and so does spirit. Embrace the little things, as major accomplishments because by rite, they are. That's how you avoid feeling bad for yourself, or your spouse, or child.
Of course I've had moments of feeling bad. You can't help, but feel bad when: a potential employer gives you that quizical look when you walk in for an interview. (you can be pretty sure they've already counted you out) or when the love of your life looks at you, and says "I love you, but I'm too superficial for you." or when someone is yelling when speaking to you. (Dude I'm 4' tall, not deaf!) And then there's my all time favorite: being given a CHILDREN"S menu! I'm learning to feel bad for those offenders, instead!
When I speak with the newly diagnosed, or parents of diagnosed children, I hear the. I recognize the uncertainty. There's this bleak picture that bursts into the forefront of our minds, when we hear 91 broken bones, or ten Orthopeadic surgeries. I know that all sounds scary, but I feel it is a blessing.
Sure every broken bone hurt, Some surgeries were so unbearable, that I didn't think I'd get through it. My last surgery, was corrective, and took two years to be completed. This was an elective surgery, and I found myself often saying: "if it aint broke, why'd the hell did you try to fix it!" But the outcome of that surgery was amazing. I can stand straighter, than I've ever stood before. That, alone, has relieved so much pain.
There's accomplishment. - Always an accomplishment to be had.
Think of every time, you score an awesome job, move into a new apartment, learn to do something, you've always wanted to learn, have a child, get married, buy a puppy - All those are accomplishments: big or small, you get to be proud of. I get to have that feeling, all the time.
Every time a cast come off and I've "rehabed" the injury I get to be proud. Surgeries I've come through, make me feel so accomplished and full of pride. Missing weeks of college, and graduating on time, felt amazing.
I have the everyday accomplishments, as well. But, it's the ones that I'm used to, that feel extra special.
It's not all roses. It WAS real hard. So for the "newbies" move from the fear, and move towards the "WAS." Bones strengthen, and so does spirit. Embrace the little things, as major accomplishments because by rite, they are. That's how you avoid feeling bad for yourself, or your spouse, or child.
Of course I've had moments of feeling bad. You can't help, but feel bad when: a potential employer gives you that quizical look when you walk in for an interview. (you can be pretty sure they've already counted you out) or when the love of your life looks at you, and says "I love you, but I'm too superficial for you." or when someone is yelling when speaking to you. (Dude I'm 4' tall, not deaf!) And then there's my all time favorite: being given a CHILDREN"S menu! I'm learning to feel bad for those offenders, instead!
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Independent, alone or lonely
I have always prided myself in being independent. I struggled with the desire to do things myself and people's desire to "help" I'm still not sure that "independent" is an accurate term. What does that mean? I can do things on my own, by myself and alone. The underlying connotation is alone.
The hard part is that you must learn the difference. There is always a desire to be independent, but you cannot merge that into alone.
I watched 127 hours last night, and saw what happens when the two become one. Now, I'm not implying that we will all end up cutting off our arm in a Canyon, but the possibilities are endless when you find yourself alone.
I've let my own independence leave me alone. I've had blow out fights with my mom, over things I knew I could do. She never challenged, but there were times that I felt she was. My philosophy was always: just do it. I am the person who jumps in head first, believing it will all work out. I remember: not taking my mom's phone calls because I didn't want to "check in" at 20 years old. I told her repeatedly, LEAVE ME ALONE!" "I'll be fine without you!" Sadly, I am without her. I am ALONE. I don't feel any more independent without her. So why did I spend all those years requesting to be "alone"- because "alone" felt more like "on my own."
That's the place that lonely is born. When you can't reconcile, the two with grace: you find yourself lonely. You've pushed away the many people in pursuit of independence. Whether, it personal, independence, physical independence or romantic independence, if not pursued correctly, all, can lead you to lonely!
The hard part is that you must learn the difference. There is always a desire to be independent, but you cannot merge that into alone.
I watched 127 hours last night, and saw what happens when the two become one. Now, I'm not implying that we will all end up cutting off our arm in a Canyon, but the possibilities are endless when you find yourself alone.
I've let my own independence leave me alone. I've had blow out fights with my mom, over things I knew I could do. She never challenged, but there were times that I felt she was. My philosophy was always: just do it. I am the person who jumps in head first, believing it will all work out. I remember: not taking my mom's phone calls because I didn't want to "check in" at 20 years old. I told her repeatedly, LEAVE ME ALONE!" "I'll be fine without you!" Sadly, I am without her. I am ALONE. I don't feel any more independent without her. So why did I spend all those years requesting to be "alone"- because "alone" felt more like "on my own."
That's the place that lonely is born. When you can't reconcile, the two with grace: you find yourself lonely. You've pushed away the many people in pursuit of independence. Whether, it personal, independence, physical independence or romantic independence, if not pursued correctly, all, can lead you to lonely!
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Pursuit of the Poofy dress ...
Every one of us is given those special rites of passage: the things we wait patiently for, and are so excited when they arrive. Whether it's the upward movement of Cub Scouts to Boy Scouts, of the difference between a Junior and Senior Varsity Cheerleader. Meaningless changes that at the time seem to be everything. We've all had them and saw them as some huge moment in time to redefine (or define) ourselves.
I went out for drinks ,with a girlfriend the other night. On both sides of the bar you could see people at different stages of their lives. To my left there were the young, fun and rambunctious group: a gaggle of young 20-somethings (and a kid who looked as if, earlier that morning, he poured out a box of Fruity Pebbles to uncover the prize!) It was a perfectly depicted picture, of " date night" here on long Island! LOL Then to the right sat a rather refined group of women (and one guy hitting on them all.) They were in their mid-forties, and appeared to be enjoying a glass of White Wine.
So there I was, in the middle, with my Margarita - Not quite the beer-churgers of the group to my left, nor really ready to concede that happy hour meant a glass of White Wine. (Not just yet!) I was talking about where I fit in, with my friend. We both discovered that: we were supposed to be married by now! Duh that's a no-brainer! I always said I'd be married by 23 and have kids by 25, but to hear that someone else had the same plan- Woo Hoo! I was not out of my mind! So that got me thinking: WE ARE ALWAYS CHASING A POOFY DRESS!
As a little girl, I watched my sister take dance lessons (she only took them for .2 seconds, but stay with me people!- It had impact!) I wanted a Tutu! OK five year old in a wheelchair - wasn't going to be dancing Swan Lake anytime soon! So I got a Wand! ( Luckily Ashly outgrew the Tutu fast!) My jealously lasted as long as her dance career! (And between you and me she feel asleep, on stage during her first recital!- so that career was over long before it started!) So I lost out on Poofy dress #1
Poofy dress was a bigger problem. That good ole Sweet Sixteen! I was excited for this one! This one I knew was mine. After all nothing could change my age! Invitations went out, favors were purchased, DJ selected, dress shopping here I come! But once again the Poofy dress eluded me! The month before my party, may parents could not afford the final payment. It was not in our budget. No matter how hard mom crunched the numbers, we really couldn't afford it. I had to call every person on my guest list to say my party was canceled. In the town I grew up in, you didn't dare say that you couldn't afford something. I had an elaborate lie about a double booked venue, and my date had to be changed. I'm not sure anyone believed that, but hey - it's all I had at 16!
Junior prom was up next. This time I had the poofy dress. Being a "Little Person" you can't walk into JC Penny and buy formal gown off the rack. My mom made my dress. It was a beautiful lilac dress with a shimmery Chiffon overlay, and rhinestone straps. I even found kids shoes that I dyed to match. For reasons that I'm still not clear on: I got stood up. Dress ready, hair done, and no date. He bailed last minute! So I spent prom night looking great (as great as a nerdy girl, stood up for her Junior prom could look!) watching "Mission Impossible." (If only Tom Cruise could have seen me!) I didn't even attempt Senior Prom!
I have a closet full of fitted, "sexy" dresses! Many of those I've only worn once, and normally to wedding. I've come to terms with the fact that "poofy dresses" are not for me! After all, being 4' tall, I look like a CUPCAKE when I have on poofy dress! :)
Now the last Poofy dress I am not willing to give up on! There is no way I'll be trading in my final shot a poofy dress for a box of Kitty Litter. (I don't like cats so if I become the "crazy- cat -lady please shoot me!)
I say this all light-heartedly to say it is JUST A POOFY DRESS!! It's not a rite of passage as we all think they are. We feel obligated to have them and give them. Yet, we are no more or less fulfilled because we went to Prom or had a rockin' Sweet 16. Pursue the important stuff. Life's biggest accomplishments wont include a dress you'll never look at, or put on again! And probably wont look as good as you thought it did, when you look at the pictures!
I went out for drinks ,with a girlfriend the other night. On both sides of the bar you could see people at different stages of their lives. To my left there were the young, fun and rambunctious group: a gaggle of young 20-somethings (and a kid who looked as if, earlier that morning, he poured out a box of Fruity Pebbles to uncover the prize!) It was a perfectly depicted picture, of " date night" here on long Island! LOL Then to the right sat a rather refined group of women (and one guy hitting on them all.) They were in their mid-forties, and appeared to be enjoying a glass of White Wine.
So there I was, in the middle, with my Margarita - Not quite the beer-churgers of the group to my left, nor really ready to concede that happy hour meant a glass of White Wine. (Not just yet!) I was talking about where I fit in, with my friend. We both discovered that: we were supposed to be married by now! Duh that's a no-brainer! I always said I'd be married by 23 and have kids by 25, but to hear that someone else had the same plan- Woo Hoo! I was not out of my mind! So that got me thinking: WE ARE ALWAYS CHASING A POOFY DRESS!
As a little girl, I watched my sister take dance lessons (she only took them for .2 seconds, but stay with me people!- It had impact!) I wanted a Tutu! OK five year old in a wheelchair - wasn't going to be dancing Swan Lake anytime soon! So I got a Wand! ( Luckily Ashly outgrew the Tutu fast!) My jealously lasted as long as her dance career! (And between you and me she feel asleep, on stage during her first recital!- so that career was over long before it started!) So I lost out on Poofy dress #1
Poofy dress was a bigger problem. That good ole Sweet Sixteen! I was excited for this one! This one I knew was mine. After all nothing could change my age! Invitations went out, favors were purchased, DJ selected, dress shopping here I come! But once again the Poofy dress eluded me! The month before my party, may parents could not afford the final payment. It was not in our budget. No matter how hard mom crunched the numbers, we really couldn't afford it. I had to call every person on my guest list to say my party was canceled. In the town I grew up in, you didn't dare say that you couldn't afford something. I had an elaborate lie about a double booked venue, and my date had to be changed. I'm not sure anyone believed that, but hey - it's all I had at 16!
Junior prom was up next. This time I had the poofy dress. Being a "Little Person" you can't walk into JC Penny and buy formal gown off the rack. My mom made my dress. It was a beautiful lilac dress with a shimmery Chiffon overlay, and rhinestone straps. I even found kids shoes that I dyed to match. For reasons that I'm still not clear on: I got stood up. Dress ready, hair done, and no date. He bailed last minute! So I spent prom night looking great (as great as a nerdy girl, stood up for her Junior prom could look!) watching "Mission Impossible." (If only Tom Cruise could have seen me!) I didn't even attempt Senior Prom!
I have a closet full of fitted, "sexy" dresses! Many of those I've only worn once, and normally to wedding. I've come to terms with the fact that "poofy dresses" are not for me! After all, being 4' tall, I look like a CUPCAKE when I have on poofy dress! :)
Now the last Poofy dress I am not willing to give up on! There is no way I'll be trading in my final shot a poofy dress for a box of Kitty Litter. (I don't like cats so if I become the "crazy- cat -lady please shoot me!)
I say this all light-heartedly to say it is JUST A POOFY DRESS!! It's not a rite of passage as we all think they are. We feel obligated to have them and give them. Yet, we are no more or less fulfilled because we went to Prom or had a rockin' Sweet 16. Pursue the important stuff. Life's biggest accomplishments wont include a dress you'll never look at, or put on again! And probably wont look as good as you thought it did, when you look at the pictures!
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Always sing your "SWAN" song!!
In theatre we all hope to not be type cast. To get stuck in one kind of role over and over is death to a CREATIVE career. I was always typed as the "troll" or some other weird forest creature. That was part of my dissatisfaction with my acting career. I knew someone who was always cast as the mom and housewife. I've seen the "fool" and the "leading man" walk right past. I have sat on the other of the directors table. I've heard "He's too short," She's too big, " "He looks too gay," "She'd be perfect if she'd dye her hair." He wont be believable s such and such a character." I never understood that one. The actor becomes the character- not the other way around. After we got all that "typing" out of the way we moved on to substance. "his voice was amazing, and that song suits him." She delivered that monologue with such passion" or "They have great chemistry." I know which had the larger impact on casting. I've seen it ... I've done it. I've seen people be who could not act at all, cast because they were tall enough, pretty enough, and sometime just because they were easy to work with
Disclaimer: To my Five Towns peeps I am not implying that any of these statements were specifically made about ANY of you. There were shows before, and after you.
Here's where it gets tricky: Actors get used to this. We learn to know our "type" and embrace playing those roles. Even when deep down we want to be the ingenue. OK so we don't always embrace it. (insert sarcastic tone here.) but we desperately want to be on stage. Sometimes we humiliate ourselves, in fear that we wont get cast, again, if we turn down roles or refuse to take direction we find degrading. We find comfort in our fellow cast members who share similar feelings. And than there are those who live by "at least I'm not in the chorus!) Or as Jack called it 3rd tree from the left.
But then there are PEOPLE- Every day people, who have never stepped foot on a stage. They get typed, more often than not. Every one knows the "dumb girl," "the fat kid" "the slacker," "the snot," "the bully," the jock," "the kid we feel certain is gay (and sometimes is or is not!" "the shy kid," "the geek," "the theatre nerd" (that was me)
Who are you? Don't be any of the above. Unlike theatre, where a director determines what role you play, you have the opportunity to play all those and more. So what you're the "theatre geek?" Does that mean you can't be popular? Because you're "shy" does it mean that you're not smart? Because you're African American, does that mean you're "poor?" How about the "gay kid?" Does that mean you can't open, and still be successful? NO!
Play whatever role you want to play. Don't force the worlds type casting upon yourself. I'm guilty: I've been the "little person" meant to be alone, unsuccessful and uneducated. I accepted that type for a long time. It took years before I decided that role wasn't for me! I turned it down. I know what roles are for me, and which are not. Unlike my performing days: I can look the world in the face and say "SHOVE IT!" I won't be her, I won't even look at the script and consider it. This is my life, and I wont type cast myself.
So no matter who, or where you are reject "types," and cast yourself as who you want to be. And no matter what find a time, a moment, and a place to sing your SWAN SONG!
Disclaimer: To my Five Towns peeps I am not implying that any of these statements were specifically made about ANY of you. There were shows before, and after you.
Here's where it gets tricky: Actors get used to this. We learn to know our "type" and embrace playing those roles. Even when deep down we want to be the ingenue. OK so we don't always embrace it. (insert sarcastic tone here.) but we desperately want to be on stage. Sometimes we humiliate ourselves, in fear that we wont get cast, again, if we turn down roles or refuse to take direction we find degrading. We find comfort in our fellow cast members who share similar feelings. And than there are those who live by "at least I'm not in the chorus!) Or as Jack called it 3rd tree from the left.
But then there are PEOPLE- Every day people, who have never stepped foot on a stage. They get typed, more often than not. Every one knows the "dumb girl," "the fat kid" "the slacker," "the snot," "the bully," the jock," "the kid we feel certain is gay (and sometimes is or is not!" "the shy kid," "the geek," "the theatre nerd" (that was me)
Who are you? Don't be any of the above. Unlike theatre, where a director determines what role you play, you have the opportunity to play all those and more. So what you're the "theatre geek?" Does that mean you can't be popular? Because you're "shy" does it mean that you're not smart? Because you're African American, does that mean you're "poor?" How about the "gay kid?" Does that mean you can't open, and still be successful? NO!
Play whatever role you want to play. Don't force the worlds type casting upon yourself. I'm guilty: I've been the "little person" meant to be alone, unsuccessful and uneducated. I accepted that type for a long time. It took years before I decided that role wasn't for me! I turned it down. I know what roles are for me, and which are not. Unlike my performing days: I can look the world in the face and say "SHOVE IT!" I won't be her, I won't even look at the script and consider it. This is my life, and I wont type cast myself.
So no matter who, or where you are reject "types," and cast yourself as who you want to be. And no matter what find a time, a moment, and a place to sing your SWAN SONG!
Monday, March 7, 2011
Ya know ...
This blog started out as peek inside the life of someone the world deemed "different." I intended for it to be for the kids that I lecture to. I wanted a way for them to connect with me as a person, and it has. On many levels it has touched people, and the feed back I get from students is so rewarding. Yet somehow, this went from being about me, to being for me.
I don't want to be pacified, or pitied. I have this voyeuristic need to move people in a public forum. I put my life on display, for the sake of finding someone who's "been there." In a world that, at times, I feel so alone it's nice to know that I am in good company.
I separate my world from yours, mainly because I feel so different. I know that you can't see my life, until you see it through my eyes. Events that happen to you, have very different shades when they are are laid out for me.
I'm hard, and strong. I'm confident in myself. Yet, at times I am vulnerable, and extremely insecure. I never break, but I crack. I don't rip, but I tear. I often find myself jealous, and proud of the people I love. I live for myself, but would die for some. I am taking such great strides, but find myself, slowly falling backwards.
My mom's voice of reason would echo in the back of my head. But she's no longer here, and my voice of reason is mute. My physical voice has no reason.
I think mom would say: "You're OK. You're on the right path. Taniya, be patient and move quietly."
Yea, that's what she would say.
I don't want to be pacified, or pitied. I have this voyeuristic need to move people in a public forum. I put my life on display, for the sake of finding someone who's "been there." In a world that, at times, I feel so alone it's nice to know that I am in good company.
I separate my world from yours, mainly because I feel so different. I know that you can't see my life, until you see it through my eyes. Events that happen to you, have very different shades when they are are laid out for me.
I'm hard, and strong. I'm confident in myself. Yet, at times I am vulnerable, and extremely insecure. I never break, but I crack. I don't rip, but I tear. I often find myself jealous, and proud of the people I love. I live for myself, but would die for some. I am taking such great strides, but find myself, slowly falling backwards.
My mom's voice of reason would echo in the back of my head. But she's no longer here, and my voice of reason is mute. My physical voice has no reason.
I think mom would say: "You're OK. You're on the right path. Taniya, be patient and move quietly."
Yea, that's what she would say.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Me
I'm a geek!
My favorite shows are Glee, and the Bachelor.
My ipod is filled with musical soundtracks, and barely anything else.
I look at X-rays, on the internet, for fun.
Google is my best friend: I use it to search for random things, just for the hell of it.
While driving with my friend who was admiring a late night sky: I announced "It looks like that because Mars and the moon are in alignment."
My all time favorite movie is Dirty Dancing, even after all these years. That is a fact that completely conflicts with my background: I would sit in a theatre and watch live plays, all day. Yet somehow, I could also watch Dirty Dancing all day.
I blog about nothing, and believe that people actually read it.
I watch the History Channel all the time. I never tire of their shows on conspiracy theories, Aliens, and ancient civilizations.
I long to be in an operating room, to witness and partake in a surgical procedure.
I've broken 91 bones (yes, I've kept count.) my body is mapped with scars and I love telling people about all of them.
In college, I actually, loved writing papers, and essays. I loved it so much that I would devote an entire weekend to completing one. I also, turned it into s business, of sorts. I had people pay me to write papers for them. Now I don't advocate that, but I was an entrepreneur.
I can't stand poor grammer, and word usage. (even in text messages! LOL)
Lastly ... I spent 10 minutes writing this ...
But you just read it! :)
My favorite shows are Glee, and the Bachelor.
My ipod is filled with musical soundtracks, and barely anything else.
I look at X-rays, on the internet, for fun.
Google is my best friend: I use it to search for random things, just for the hell of it.
While driving with my friend who was admiring a late night sky: I announced "It looks like that because Mars and the moon are in alignment."
My all time favorite movie is Dirty Dancing, even after all these years. That is a fact that completely conflicts with my background: I would sit in a theatre and watch live plays, all day. Yet somehow, I could also watch Dirty Dancing all day.
I blog about nothing, and believe that people actually read it.
I watch the History Channel all the time. I never tire of their shows on conspiracy theories, Aliens, and ancient civilizations.
I long to be in an operating room, to witness and partake in a surgical procedure.
I've broken 91 bones (yes, I've kept count.) my body is mapped with scars and I love telling people about all of them.
In college, I actually, loved writing papers, and essays. I loved it so much that I would devote an entire weekend to completing one. I also, turned it into s business, of sorts. I had people pay me to write papers for them. Now I don't advocate that, but I was an entrepreneur.
I can't stand poor grammer, and word usage. (even in text messages! LOL)
Lastly ... I spent 10 minutes writing this ...
But you just read it! :)
Saturday, January 22, 2011
This is what happens when you let your guard down
"Taniya, you need to let your guard down." My sister told me that last week. A statement in a way that only she could say. The sarcastic tone, and almost judgmental way she said it made me want to kill her.
Of course my guard has been up. You walk one day in my shoes and tell me you would not be guarded. I've spent my whole preparing myself for rejection. There is rejection in all aspects of life, yet being in a position of always having to "prove" yourself amplifies the sting.
I get so tired of trying to be good enough for whatever, or whoever I desire.
I've loved ONCE. For two blissful years, I felt I found my person. I had an understanding ear, an open heart, and a shoulder to cry on, just for me. I let my guard down, and felt loved. More importantly I felt loved unconditionally. I felt that our bond was unbreakable, and transcended all this physical crap I've always worried about.
I hate the fact that my whole life has been marked by a big proverbial "BUT" ... She's in a wheelchair, BUT she's smart. She's a "little person" BUT she's pretty. She's handicap BUT she's independent. I don't want my whole life to have that "in spite of tone."
I didn't feel that with him. I just felt that we were. ... not that he loved me in spite of our differences. He just did ...
Our bond was breakable, and so was my heart. So naturally my guard has been up. There's a little brick wall all the way around it.
"Let it down" was not even a consideration ...until my sister said it. It felt almost like a challenge, so I took it on.
I met a guy, online, and we made arrangements to meet at the movies. A nice enough date ... he paid for tickets, held doors me, held my hand during the movie, and we shared a small kiss at the end of the night. "Call me tomorrow, and let's do this again" is how we parted.
I sent him a few text, but haven't heard from him since that night. The guard is back up, because now I feel rejected ...
Of course my guard has been up. You walk one day in my shoes and tell me you would not be guarded. I've spent my whole preparing myself for rejection. There is rejection in all aspects of life, yet being in a position of always having to "prove" yourself amplifies the sting.
I get so tired of trying to be good enough for whatever, or whoever I desire.
I've loved ONCE. For two blissful years, I felt I found my person. I had an understanding ear, an open heart, and a shoulder to cry on, just for me. I let my guard down, and felt loved. More importantly I felt loved unconditionally. I felt that our bond was unbreakable, and transcended all this physical crap I've always worried about.
I hate the fact that my whole life has been marked by a big proverbial "BUT" ... She's in a wheelchair, BUT she's smart. She's a "little person" BUT she's pretty. She's handicap BUT she's independent. I don't want my whole life to have that "in spite of tone."
I didn't feel that with him. I just felt that we were. ... not that he loved me in spite of our differences. He just did ...
Our bond was breakable, and so was my heart. So naturally my guard has been up. There's a little brick wall all the way around it.
"Let it down" was not even a consideration ...until my sister said it. It felt almost like a challenge, so I took it on.
I met a guy, online, and we made arrangements to meet at the movies. A nice enough date ... he paid for tickets, held doors me, held my hand during the movie, and we shared a small kiss at the end of the night. "Call me tomorrow, and let's do this again" is how we parted.
I sent him a few text, but haven't heard from him since that night. The guard is back up, because now I feel rejected ...
Sunday, January 2, 2011
The end of a decade...
Things have been up and down in the past decade: I must say that I'm glad it is coming to an end. I changed, I grew. I hurt. I loved like, I fear, I'll never love again. I lost the only thing I had of value ... my mom. That loss forced me to stand on my own two feet: that rendered me weak and helpless, before it lifted me up and made me strong.- stronger.
For the first time in a long time I felt desirable. If I tell the truth it was the first time ever. I was hit on in a parking lot (of all places) We exchanged numbers, and he wants to take me out. My guard is up ... I'm afraid. There's this small part of me (OK a bigger part than I'm willing to admit.) that fears the little disabled person. The person who, for years, felt "un-datable" for much of my adult life. There has been only one man to make me feel like a woman, and not a "little" woman. And then one day he figured it out ... he realized beyond an emotional connection there was much I lacked - physical superficial attraction.
I went out New Years Eve, and had a great time. I flirted with every man in the place. (I mean OVERTLY flirted!) One guy even called me the most beautiful woman in the place. God that felt good. Then suddenly it made me feel terrible. I found every reason to not accept it: he was drunk. He was looking to take ANYONE home. He was into the novelty of talking to a "midget." Why could I not think that he honestly thought I was beautiful? Why was that so hard for me to hear?
For the first time in a long time I felt desirable. If I tell the truth it was the first time ever. I was hit on in a parking lot (of all places) We exchanged numbers, and he wants to take me out. My guard is up ... I'm afraid. There's this small part of me (OK a bigger part than I'm willing to admit.) that fears the little disabled person. The person who, for years, felt "un-datable" for much of my adult life. There has been only one man to make me feel like a woman, and not a "little" woman. And then one day he figured it out ... he realized beyond an emotional connection there was much I lacked - physical superficial attraction.
I went out New Years Eve, and had a great time. I flirted with every man in the place. (I mean OVERTLY flirted!) One guy even called me the most beautiful woman in the place. God that felt good. Then suddenly it made me feel terrible. I found every reason to not accept it: he was drunk. He was looking to take ANYONE home. He was into the novelty of talking to a "midget." Why could I not think that he honestly thought I was beautiful? Why was that so hard for me to hear?
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