Giving up has never been my thing. It's what I preach against, to everyone speak with. "Never say you can't." Don't give up, and all the over used euphemisms I can think of. Yet, here I sit, ready to quit!
I'm not sure about this school thing, anymore. I'm not a "C" student, yet suddenly busting my ass leaves me marginal at best. Between having seizures, and medications that cause me to forget everything; studying is proving to be useless. There are times, when, I'm surprised I remember who I am. I asked my doctor about the changes in my memory and she said it's partly the medication but mainly a result of the "brain damage."
"Brain damage??" WOW Why is a stupid Brain Hemorrhage, that happened in 2003 wreaking havoc on my life life now? Almost 10 years and worlds later, I feel like I'm starting all over.
I would never throw around the "fair " word, because I'm smart enough to know life's not fair. However, I know paid a huge price, when this disaster happened. I walked through hell and back in 2003. I don't have it in me to fight this residual crap that decided to come back and haunt me! Seizures weren't part of the deal; nor were medications that left me feeling like a zombie.
My natural instinct is to fight back. But I can't fight against my own Brain. This isn't like fighting the way I think, or do things. This is fighting the very energy that powers my own "self" How do I fight back against that?
So here's where I am? Do I throw my hands up, and say I can't do this anymore? Do I give up and say it was a nice try, but it's not working out. Or do keep at it? Do hold in the uncertainty? Stuff down the fact that I'm not sleeping? study information that I wont remember in an hour? Or do I find another path to try walking down?
I gave this a shot, but I'm not sure that I can see this through ...
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
It could always be worse ...
At least that's what I tell myself when I feel I've found the bottom of this bottomless hole. They say you find a point where you hit "rock bottom." I've never found that true. Bottom is an illusion. Bottom signifies a finite end to something. - I'm not sure anything ever ends. The entire world, as we know it, is a cycle of repetitions.
Science tell us that energy cannot be created or destroyed. Therefore the essence of energy just lingers until it is reclaimed by something, to be used again.
So do I, naively, believe that I can put an "end" to all the rapid, electrical energy that causes my seizures? I've been told that the electrical surges in my Brain run too fast to fully be controlled by drugs. But I struggle with that concept. Is it possible for anything, about the Brain, to run too fast? I talk too fast, I think rapidly, I think too much, I can create and analyze at the same time. I have anxiety, born out of a desire to be perfect. I knowingly, take on more than I can juggle.
Good bad or indifferent that's who I am! And I wouldn't change that. The biggest concern, about this damn surgery is that it might change "me" in some small but significant way. Yet, one by one these seizures keep coming, and I desperately want to end that. Here's my question: where will all the extra energy go ...
Science tell us that energy cannot be created or destroyed. Therefore the essence of energy just lingers until it is reclaimed by something, to be used again.
So do I, naively, believe that I can put an "end" to all the rapid, electrical energy that causes my seizures? I've been told that the electrical surges in my Brain run too fast to fully be controlled by drugs. But I struggle with that concept. Is it possible for anything, about the Brain, to run too fast? I talk too fast, I think rapidly, I think too much, I can create and analyze at the same time. I have anxiety, born out of a desire to be perfect. I knowingly, take on more than I can juggle.
Good bad or indifferent that's who I am! And I wouldn't change that. The biggest concern, about this damn surgery is that it might change "me" in some small but significant way. Yet, one by one these seizures keep coming, and I desperately want to end that. Here's my question: where will all the extra energy go ...
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
The Science of being short.
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!
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 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.
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