Writing To Express Myself
When I was younger I used to have a lot of temper tantrums because I couldn't express myself. As I grew older, the "fits" became worse. I would trash my room, fight with my sisters and basically be no fun to hang around with.....With maturity has come my ability to express my frustrated feelings through writing. It's like therapy to me.....which, by the way, I have had and I can tell you this is way better. I must have over 20 journals filled with "feelings". I would much rather write how I am feeling than be miserable and angry... Here is what I think of people who are afraid to talk to kids in special ed
A Special Poem: What are You Looking At?
Instead of staring or worse ignoring me, why don't you try to talk to me? You might find out that you and I have more in common than you think. Don't worry, you can't catch my learning disability;
It won't rub off onto you - by the way, just because somebody learns differently doesn't mean they are stupid... We all want the same things in high school and life don't we? Take a minute, you might make a friend........
Things have always been hard for me.
The older I get, the bigger the challenges get.
Even though it's tough, I keep trying.
It may take me longer to get where I am going; but I get there.
Sometimes the mountain seems too big to climb so I have to go around it.
It Has a Name
I am 19 now but I kind of remember my mom trying to explain to me about my genetic disorder.
My learning difficulties, being in special ed., needing a heart procedure, eye surgery and so many other things that affected me now had a name: Deletion 22q11.
I remember how careful my mom was in trying to explain. I also remember not understanding anything she was telling me. The only thing I was thinking was, " I have a disease." I asked if I was going to die.
It took a long time for me to really understand about my disorder and to realize it wasn't a disease. At first I was ashamed, I was ten and very self-conscious, I was embarrassed. I knew I was different and having this disorder just proved it. I still don't fully understand everything about it but at least I know why I had more doctors visits than my sisters, why I was the only one I knew who took shots for growth and that I would not die from this disorder.
As I got older I wanted to know everything about Deletion 22q11. I still search the web everyday. I have met people on-line and in person with the same disorder and love to compare how we are alike and how we are different.
I am no longer angry about having this disorder, but to be honest, I still sometimes wonder how I can be the only one in my family to have this. I now look at this as "my thing". By that I mean my "cause". I want to tell everyone about it, raising awareness, everywhere I go, whether it is at school, work or a backyard bbq.
I would love to speak at an awareness event to share my experiences growing up with this genetic disorder.
A Poem on Friendship:
Go ahead and talk to me I want to make some friends.
You won't see my differences until the conversation ends.
I won't judge you if you don't judge me because I have a kind personality.
For some reason though I can't keep my friends and it's not me that wants our friendship to end.
This makes me feel sad because I've done nothing wrong besides being a good friend and wanting to get along.
I feel miserable I feel lonely at times, does anybody want to be there for me?
I have a great family but sometimes I want more. I just want a friend, someone who I am sure that will look out for me.
My heart is beating so fast, my knees are shaking and all of a sudden I feel like I am about to pass out. No, I'm not ziplining; I'm not going on a rollercoaster....those are things I like to do......I'm walking into the cafeteria.
The voices echo against the cement walls, there's so many people, and that smell, eww the smell....what is that? I look around for a table that would let me sit down. Tables are hard to find.
I'm not brave enough to ask someone if I could sit with them; I wait for an invitation that probably won't come. I'm too nervous to get a drink or snack from the lunch line; I just know everyone is looking at me...even when they aren't....I walk to the vending machines...I keep my head down, not wanting to hear or see something that might hurt my feelings...My feelings get hurt alot.
I leave the cafeteria....another day of not fitting in...I take my lunch back to room 112 where I will eat with a few other kids that also don't want to be in the cafeteria...
One day my cousin, who graduated 3 years ago, came into school to visit, he saw me sitting in an empty classroom. He came in and asked me why I was in there; when I told him I was eating my lunch, he was confused. "why are you eating in here?" he asked. I told him I had no one to sit with and that this is where I usually stayed during lunch. Later that afternoon he went to visit my mom and told her this story. He got choked up, he could not imagine being so lonely in a school full of kids. He was very popular and outgoing in high school and had never gone through anything like that.