perspective – A Writer In A Wheelchair

Rotation Curation for #Disability #rocur

I’ve been curating the @OxfordIsYours twitter account. It’s a RoCur (Rotation Curation) account for Oxford and the person who runs it said living in Oxfordshire counts.

Basically RoCur is where there’s an account (often on twitter) where people take a week at a time to run it and share their experiences and tweet on the subject. Most of these relate to places – like with Oxford Is Yours I’ve been tweeting about where I’ve been and what I’ve done – but some relate to hobbies or jobs or organisations or anything else.

I’ve been enjoying it and have learned about a place in Oxford I’m going to visit soon I didn’t know about. I’ve also met a couple of new tweeters who I’ll follow from my own account when the week is over. And possibly have a couple of other places and events in mind I’d like to go to the logistics of which may prove tricky as they aren’t in places I can get to easy. That’s basically the point of rocur – to share tips, tricks, and experiences and recommend places and venues. The person who runs OxfordIsYours said to me last weekend she was looking forward to reading a week in my life and that’s basically what it is.

Admittedly days like today when I’m close to home and not doing very much it feels like a struggle to have anything relevant to the account to tweet. But on the whole it’s been an interesting and fun experience and I’m glad I’ve done it.

I’d really like to have a go at curating People of UK for a week. But what I’d really really like is for their to be a disability rocur.

And as far as I can tell there isn’t one.

I’m thinking about setting one up. I know of one other person who is interested in taking part. But I think we need more than that to set it up.

So I need help to do that. I need to know if people are interested in that. And if so

I need people to be curators.

I need people to signal boost this message

And I need people to read and comment and tweet and just generally try to use this as a way to make our already pretty awesome disabilty community online better and more of a community.

I was asked on twitter what definiton of disability I would apply and I’m going to go relatively wide and say you simply have to self identify as disabled. I am however going to specify that this is not at present open to carers because I want it to be a space where disabled people can share and speak for themselves.

Once I know that there’s some life in this idea and people are interested I will write up some more guidelines with specifics but basically it doesn’t just have to be about the disability side of being a disabled person.

Let me know in comments if you are interested or tweet me @FunkyFairy22

On Volunteering and Housing Day

Today is #HousingDay (hashtag housing day) a day designed to promote social housing and highlight all it does for people in the UK, how important it is and just what the need for social housing is.

I know from my own experiences just how much having access to a flat that is fully adapted to my needs, is safe and secure (in terms of both safety and tenancy) and affordable is. It’s more than a roof over your head it’s the ability to make plans and do things and get on with your life that might otherwise be impossible.

And in both parts of my CAB role (adviser/gateway assessor and social policy coordinator) over the last few years I’ve seen more and more people becoming homeless, struggling to find somewhere to live that meets their needs either due to availability, costs, access needs or landlords who won’t accept housing benefit.

I rent from a social landlord – Soha Housing – to be specific and a few weeks ago they made me aware of a call from TPAS for residents who were willing to share their own stories of being residents and volunteering to work with their housing provider. I’ve been involved since 2010 and we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well. So knowing I like to write they asked if I’d be interested in sharing my story.

I wrote my story and it was pretty tricky. There’s no doubt that the volunteering I do – both for Soha but also for CAB – plays a huge role in my life and in many ways has changed my life. Even taking the CAB aspects of my volunteering out of the equation there was still loads I could say about the matter and it was difficult to know what to include and what to leave out to make the point about why resident involvement is so important to me in just a couple of hundred words. But I did my best and sent it off and Soha submitted it to TPAS. And we didn’t hear anything about it.

Fast forward to this lunchtime and I went on twitter to discover that TPAS had chosen ten of the resident stories they had received to highlight and help promote Housing Day. Mine was one of the ten. I’m really proud to have the opportunity and a bit surprised! Two of my fellow Soha residents and friend Carole and Richard also had their stories chosen. All ten of the stories are well worth a read – find them here.

Looking back at what I wrote today I think it’s also fair to say a lot of what I wrote about how being involved with Soha helps me – especially my last paragraph – can also be applied to my CAB work. People have in the past said to me they don’t understand why I volunteer and how I could just sit at home and no one would blame me. But I’d be a lot worse off – and possibly in need of greater medical and other support – if I did that. Because that’s the difference volunteering makes.

In which I get Ranty

(subtitle: and lose my shit all over the Internet.)

This is ridiculous. In fact It’s the most stupid thing ever and frankly I probably shouldn’t dignify it with a response but I can’t let it go.

There’s an American company called 3eLove. They sell a range of products with their logo on – the logo is a wheelchair symbol like you see on many different things but with the wheel replaced with a heart. It’s called the wheelchair heart. I can’t remember if I’ve blogged about it before or not. Their products have a variety of slogans on as well as the wheelchair heart. In 2012 my parents gave me a sum of money instead of a Christmas present asking I buy myself something special that I wouldn’t usually buy for myself. I bought myself a wheelchair heart necklace and I really like it (prior to shit that went down yesterday I probably would have said I love it but…). If you look at the pictures of my brother’s wedding you can see I’m wearing it there (I’m not sure how clear it is though). A lot of my friends have quite a few 3elove products but the necklace is the only one I have. I’ve not seen anything else they do that really called to me like that did and made me feel paying postage from the US to here was worth it (seriously, yesterday a friend linked me to one of their tops and told me how much she was paying to get it shipped here and all I could think was “I could buy a second top for the cost of postage if I bought it from a UK place” But obviously that’s not the company’s fault).

So anyway I kept hearing that yesterday (20/01/2014) was going to be Day of Acceptance run by 3elove. And this apparently was a Big Deal.

I’m not a fan of “awareness raising” and the like and days that do that because I’m not really sure that they achieve anything that can’t be achieved by just being seen and doing and living. I’ve written about that several times before – here is one example and there is a link to more in that entry. So I was hearing a lot about it and I sent a couple of tweets.

I tweeted:

#dayofacceptance is really poor activism and a thinly veiled way for @3elove to market themselves. Don't Other me this way #Disability

— Emma (@FunkyFairy22) January 20, 2014

and then I sent some unrelated RTs and chatted a bit with a twitter friend about stuff including what I’d just tweeted.

Then I tweeted

I don't want or need a #dayofacceptance. I deserve seven. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. Saturday. And Sunday. (@3elove)

— Emma (@FunkyFairy22) January 20, 2014

Here’s the thing: I don’t want one day a year where people go out of their way to accept me and my disability and make a big deal of it. I want to be accepted every single damn day there is and I want it to be normal. You know I don’t want people bothering to tell me that my having CP is acceptable to them. By making a big deal of it it makes me different to those in the majority and Others me. (Othering is the process by which we use an action of similar to class particular people as different and “not one of us” see this link for more detail).

I suspect a big part of this comes from medical model versus social model and cultural differences. But lets just say that those two tweets which were just random thoughts didn’t go down very well.

By my last count I’ve had tweets disagreeing with me and telling me I’m wrong from four different people. Two of whom decided to troll me and keep telling me I was wrong. The reason I was wrong? Well, basically because I didn’t agree with them and that was just wrong. I was missing the point. I was wrong. I’ve not been able to determine what the point I was missing was because explanations haven’t been forthcoming let alone ones that actually make sense. (I RT’d a few of them and several of my followers went “yeah… makes no sense.”). Never mind I was wrong, I was hurting my followers by being wrong, and bringing loads of people down. And most importantly I was completely wrong.

I am more than happy to have these sort of discussions if people take the time to say “well to me I see this as XYZ why do you see it differently?”

It’s also been suggested by the trolls that I need to accept myself. I don’t know how I can do that when I’ve been in a wheelchair my entire life, would hate to be anything but and would turn down a cure if one should magically appear. My wheelchair is a huge part of my identity as well as being a part of my body.

Acceptance. Dude, it’s a journey not a destination but I’m pretty much all ready there and have been my entire life. Just because I don’t like your day doesn’t mean I hate myself.

I am surrounded by people who love me, help me, support me, tell me off if I need it, wind me up, tease me, laugh with me, cry with me, knit with me, sail with me, and do all sorts of things for me and with me. They accept me too. I thank them often for what they do for me and I appreciate it and they thank and appreciate me when I do stuff for them.

But I don’t thank them for accepting me. Because I shouldn’t have to. I am a part of their lives and they are a part of my life because it’s what we want.

If people I have to deal with in a professional capacity (either theirs or mine through my unpaid voluntary work) have a problem with my disability then I would hope our interactions would drip into their brains and slowly bring change and I would focus on that. If people I don’t have to deal with have a similar problem I would still hope the same thing but frankly I’d give them a chance then cut them out of my life. I’ve not got time to change lives, I’ve got a life to live.

Yes I know attitude to disabilty aren’t what they could be. But in my life time alone I’ve seen huge changes for the better (and maybe one or two for the worse). That’s continuing. It’s just more effective if we live our lives and celebrate who we are and our contributions. One day isn’t going to change it. In fact I worry it’ll make people think “well they wanted me to do it on 20th Jan and I did so they can’t expect me to do it everyday.”

People might remember the old TV ads that used to be on in December time “A dog’s for life, not just for Christmas.” Well, my disability is for life not just one day and I’d prefer people remember that.

(I’d also prefer people to remember that a post of twitter is just a tweet. It’s not an attack on their views, just a differing opinion and there is absolutely no need for shit like the trolling I had yesterday. But I think that’s probably wishful thinking.)

(first time comment moderation is enabled on my blog – if you haven’t commented before your comment will be held. This is standard to prevent spam).

Quick and Dirty #Disability Theory

I posted on Facebook earlier this afternoon that I’d given someone a spur of the moment elevator pitch length explanation of the social and medical models of disability and they’d understood it without my needing to clarify any further. This was, and is, a win. Especially because I really believe they actually understood it and didn’t just say so to shut me up. Then one of my friends posted that she doesn’t speak disability.

And apparently I have blog entries on here dating back to 2006 but have never defined the models. Despite having both a social and a medical model category on here.

So here goes. This will be quick and dirty but hopefully makes sense.

The medical model of disability states that impairment and disability are solely caused by medical conditions and are not influenced by anything elses. This, I believe, is much more commonly used in America. According to the medical model I am a person with a disability and am disabled by my cerebral palsy as a result of which I use a wheelchair.

The social model of disability states that it is the barriers that society puts into place and the attitudes of those around me which disable me. It acknowledges the fact that yes, I have cerebral palsy and use a wheelchair but that if I’m in a fully accessible and supportive environment I can and do access things the same as everyone else. This model would say that I am a disabled person and my disability is caused by the failings of society to provide equal and fair access that meets my needs.

There are other models of disability such as the charity model (sometimes known as the tragedy model) which depicts disabled people as a victim of circumstances beyond their control for which they need to be pitied.

Further confusion can be and is caused by the language of disability. It’s also sometimes the cause of debate or even argument between disabled people. Persons with disabilities (often shortened to PWD) is a medical model term as I said above but it’s also used by some people who prefer it as it’s person first language and shows they are more than their condition. Others (myself included) prefer to use disabled people regardless of which model they subscribe to because it’s identity first language and shows what they identify as.

And then there’s the argument about whether or not the a in disabled and disability etc should be capitalised (i.e. disAbled, disAbility) to bring the focus onto our abilities and what we can so rather than what we can’t. Personally I hate that.

Finally there’s the people who say you shouldn’t use the term able bodied because we’re all able but in different ways. The term nondisabled is the most commonly used and it’s the one I like but it’s difficult for people to understand. And to be honest no other minority describes the people outside of it by what they’re not so I don’t know if it will ever fully replace able bodied. Another term that is sometimes used is temporarily able-bodied or TAB (some people use currently able bodied, I don’t mostly because I heard of TAB first and the acronym for currently able bodied would be the same as where I volunteer and so confusing). This refers to the fact that statistically speaking most people will become disabled as some point in their lives whether due to illness, accident or simply aging.

My own journey with disability theory and the language of disability is ongoing and ever evolving. If you go right back to the beginning of this blog you’ll see the term PWD used a lot but it’s a term I no longer use. I’ve used TAB a lot in the past too but I’m not sure I’ve done so for years. Neither term feels relevant to who I am and where I am now.

Legacy

I can’t remember where but a few weeks ago I read something that I’ve been thinking about on and off ever since. It said that in the future our descendants won’t need to employ traditional genalogy techniques to learn about us. Because what they know about us will be from our facebook posts, tweets, and blogs.

I like that idea because it means that potentially (should it turn out to be true) it means those in the future will know a lot more about my past then I will tell them. And they’ll know more about me than I do my own ancestors.

I knew all of my grandparents and saw three of the four regularly until they died. It’s been years but I still miss them dearly. I have memories of time we spent together and of some stories from before I was born that they shared.

I never met any of my great grandparents and really I know very little about them. Sometimes I hear the stories and I think that I want to know more. Or I remember a time with Grandad or with Nanny (my mums parents who were divorced for most of my life and I have few memories of them together) or with Gran and Grandad (my Dads parents) and I suddenly wish I could ask them why was… Or what happened next?

That’s partly why I kinda like the idea of my Internet postings as my legacy. Because its my words and my experiences told my way. Future generations probably will know us in a whole new way than before. As a disabled person it’s probably extra relevant. I think we’re in a time of big upheaval and change in the disability movement and whilst its looking bad short term, in the long term it could go either way. I suspect with the Internet as an archive or legacy the saying “history is written by the victors” will cease to have quite as much meaning or power.

But it’s also making me think more about what I do post. The way I blog has been changing over the past year or so. My boundaries and what I feel comfortable sharing have altered a lot. In part that’s because I’ve changed but the changing dynamic of the Internet and online community has played a role too. I feel I post more about what I’m thinking than what I’m doing now. But at the same time whilst guarded some of it is more personal, more open. That was happening before I heard the legacy quote. It just gave me an understanding to my thinking I’d maybe been missing before and brought another aspect to it.

If my great great great granddaughter knew nothing about me but the contents of one tweet do I want it to be the fact my arm itches right now? So I am trying to perhaps think again before tweeting or facebooking or blogging and share what is really important to me first.

That doesn’t mean that all the silly and random stuff I post is going. Because sometimes I’m still gonna want to share that silly joke I heard or that I had pizza for tea.

A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes…

I’ve been doing a fair amount of writing (fiction) and the character I was writing about was thinking about the disney version of Cinderella. Specifically the song lyric “A dream is a wish your heart makes when you’re fast asleep.” And then I started thinking about it.

I frequently remember my dreams. They are very detailed and often borderline surreal. I can remember dreams I had months or years ago although not usually when I had them. I also have a recurring dream. I’ve not had it for absolutely ages but it was the one that came to mind. I think taking baclofen might have something to do with the way my dreams are – although even as a young child in my medicationless days I still remembered some of my dreams. But I think I read somewhere that baclofen can cause nightmares in young children? So it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to think it’s got something to do with the way my dreams are. (Side note I wrote half of this entry then came back to finish it a week later. During that time another CPer brought up the baclofen weird dreams thing so it seems I’m not the only one)

Anyway my recurring dream is that I’m out somewhere, it could be anywhere and usually is a different setting each time I dream it. And I’m not in my wheelchair. I’m walking around. Whatever’s going on in the dream is happening and all is good. But then in the dream I suddenly remember that I can’t walk. The dream is derailed (I think last time I was in a shopping centre and trying to find somewhere to buy a sandwich) and I spend the rest of it hunting around, crawling or more likely shuffling on my tummy (as thats what I actually have to do if I don’t have a mobility aid) in a bit of a panic looking for my wheelchair. This is always a dream and as yet has never taken the form of a nightmare but every few months I’ll have a variant of it.

So when a dream is a wish your heart makes when you’re fast asleep came to mind I started wondering what wish that dream could represent.

My first thought (and it was one I didn’t like) was whether it could be construed as a secret wish to be able to walk. I imagine that’s what a lot of people reading this would take it to be. Especially those who knew me back in the days when I was a long distance manual wheeler and short distance walker but who don’t see me often now.

I can stand. I can take a few steps when I transfer and very very very rarely if the stars align meaning I both need to and I’m having an amazing day at the same time I can walk a few metres with a walker (specifically, for the curious, I have a rollator). Yesterday and today were the first days that happened since the first week in January.

I’m really glad I have the level of mobility I do. I work hard with the help of my family to maintain that. But walking is exhausting, it’s painful and the risk of a fall and injury is always lurking unseen. Plus, I have no balance so I can’t do or carry anything when I’m on my feet. If I’m in my chair I have less pain, it takes less energy, my seating support means my balance is much less of an issue. I can do things and be independent in a way that I never could without my wheelchair.

In the past almost 13 years since I went to uni I’ve gone from using a walker inside and a manual outside through using a manual all the time to my current set up where I use my manual in the house and a couple of other places and use my powerchair if I’m out. There are small changes I’d like to make – I at times miss my mad wheeling skillz I had with my manual in my uni days – but walking isn’t one of them. For someone like me walking really is overrated.

No what I think the dream represents is a feeling of safety and independence. Because as well as giving me independence my chair makes me feel safe. I can move much quicker, safer and easier. I can react if I need too. When there was an argument outside my flat right a few days ago I delayed going to bed until it stopped. I felt I needed my mobility just in case.

And most of all it represents being whole. Because my wheelchairs are a part of my body. And a huge part of me. So maybe dreaming that I’ve lost it and panicking until I find it is about being accepted. By others and by myself.

Inspiration Porn

Tonight is the yearly Children in Need appeal here in the UK. BBC One is taken over by a telethon for about seven hours. The idea is to raise money to help disadvantaged children. So you see video clips of children from other countries walking miles for water, young carers helping their mum or dad and disabled children doing things too. And it’s a given that those children will either look sad or have their story told using emotive language such as “suffers from…” Or “whilst other children are playing little Johnny must…”

Interspersed with those clips are famous people doing silly stuff, frequent updates on how much has been raised and brief mentions of members of the public doing sponsored silences. Locally a lot of schools have had PJ days to raise money. Those can sometimes be funny and a child I was a big fan of Children in Need.

Now? I hate it.

This is what’s known in disability circles as “inspiration porn”

Inspiration porn is something which is designed to highlight the differences disability brings and invoke pity. In some cases this pity is to raise money for charity, in others it’s to encourage people and sometimes it’s designed to make them think. It’s a bit like the ultimate embodiment of the phrase “there’s always someone worse off than you”. I am disabled and therefore, automatically, my life is terrible, I am an object of pity and you have it much better than I do.

The phrase that will be heard a lot on telethons is “can you donate to make a difference to a child like little Johnny” invariably after they’ve just told you how terrible his life is. The inference being that if you can’t you obviously don’t care about him.

It’s the picture doing the rounds on Facebook with the “the only disability in life is a bad attitude.” Attitude is huge. But I can’t put on my Bolshie face, wheel up to the local shop that doesn’t have wheelchair access and stare the step down until it magically turns into a ramp and lets me in. And as much as I do my damnedest not to let my CP stop me that doesn’t make me amazing and I’m sure as hell not inspirational. The idea behind that I believe is that it makes nondisabled people think “if she can do that with all she goes through why am I moaning?” And such like.

Or it’s the advert at the train station which shows a little boy in a wheelchair with the phrase “he wishes he could leave this behind too.” And the details of how to donate to one of the disability charities. Because clearly he’s trapped by his chair. The idea as with all of these is to make you pity him. Only when I saw that poster I was sat in my wheelchair. On the train as it pulled out of the station. Fail.

Disability does make me different to other people. Wearing glasses makes to me different to other disabled people. The fact I like to dye my hair, live alone and am a big NCIS fan makes me different again from other glasses wearing disabled people. It’s a fact of life and a characteristic of me as any other for anyone else in the world.

I knew, growing up, that at least one of the organisations I was involved with had received money from Children in Need (although I don’t think it was ever featured). But I never realised that I was one of those kids. One of the ones who were shown “leaving the confines of their wheelchair behind for an hour once a week whilst they ride a horse.”

I’m glad I didn’t realise. It took me a long time to become the vaguely confident outgoing person I am now. It would have taken longer if I’d grown up with the knowledge that my life meant I was an object of pity who needed charity lives a terrible life and who is held up to others as a reason why they’re lucky. Because obviously the fact I survived being deprived of oxygen at birth at a time when the medical world wasn’t as developed as it is now means I’m terribly unlucky.

More than your charity I want your support. And for me that comes from being treated with respect. From people recognising who I am and my individuality, not making assumptions and letting me be me. That’s going to make more of a difference to more of those “children in need” then all the money donated in it’s entire 30+ year history.

If you want to help people donate direct to organisations and bypass those events that thrive on making people feel bad.

See the girl, see the truth, see the life. Accept me and those like me. I’m here living me life. Like you I’ve only got one shot at it and I don’t have a choice but to do what I do. I’m here to enjoy myself, not to inspire you or be pitied. Open your eyes and say no to inspiration porn.

Happy Tears

I was asked to speak at an equality event today. About the access group (AFA) I’m chair of and a bit about my own story as a disabled person.

I think it well. I didn’t write a speech, I had a few ideas but wanted to just talk off the cuff. It helped that this is I think the third time I’ve explained to people what and why AFA is (although previously I’ve only done so in informal settings). The very first idea I’d thought of when thinking it over I forgot to use.

I talked about how I don’t suffer from CP because it’s all I’ve ever known. How just because me and another hypothetical person both use chairs doesn’t meant we have the same needs. And I talked about lots of other things. I can’t remember exactly, I wish I could.

One of the things I mentioned is how failing to provide access and inclusion doesn’t just mean I miss out. I shared the story of the Major Access Fail. Through that course I’ve made some new friends. But I’ve spent so much time fighting and arguing and being upset about that I feel like those new friends haven’t met me. They’ve met upset, depressed, fighter Em whose been made to feel worthless. They’ve not had the opportunity to meet happy, having a laugh Em who gets on with things, is confident, opinionated and loves life. Me.

After I finished speaking I went to the back of the room and the organiser leaned down and whispered to me “that was brilliant” so hopefully it worked. Next there were a few more speakers then time to mingle. During the mingling time I spoke to a few people and asked them if they thought it went ok. I was a little unsure I’d hit the brief. A few interesting comments, I think I might have got some people thinking.

Someone I vaguely know came over to chat. I think it was the third or forth time we’ve met. We did the usual “hi how are you?” bit and then telling me she’d liked my speech she burst into tears.

I froze and thought “oh shit”.

What I said was “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” hopefully she missed the panicked note in my voice

Through tears she shared why. She has a young granddaughter who has CP. Ever since the diagnosis she’s been upset about all the things her granddaughter wouldn’t do. Hearing me talk about my life gave her hope that things would be ok.

She told me the tears were happy tears, happy tears.

I gave her a hug and I must admit I had to fight off happy tears of my own.

I’m not sure what I said that helped, I never expected anything like that to happen. I’m not even really sure I did help, sharing struggles like that.

But…

If I can make one person think differently about how they approach disabled people I’ve succeeded in my talk.

Reaching someone else and helping the family of a toddler have hope that a CP diagnosis isn’t the end of the world is huge. I don’t have the words to explain what that means to me.

It doesn’t negate the bad experiences I’ve had. They still hurt, they still shouldn’t have happened but will again. And in the case of major access fail its still outrageous. But being able to use that in a positive way takes away most of the sting of the memory.

It’s not OK.

But it sure as hell helps.

♥ Emma

>My friends, what I am, what I’d like to be.

>I’ve been thinking about people I know and who they are and who I am and who I’d like to be in and of myself tonight. Brought on by a couple of things, not least a conversation with my Mum yesterday.

I heard from a very good friend yesterday and that particular friend is a very old friend. I believe I was eight or nine when we met. We’ve not met in person for a lot longer than I like but I still feel very close to her. Hearing from her always makes me happy and seeing those e-mails waiting for me in my inbox always brings a smile to my face. I was telling mum that yesterday and she summed it up perfectly “She always was such a gentle person.”

I don’t think I could manage to be a gentle person, I’m not sure gentle and advocacy go well together and I AM an advocate. It’s something I’m very proud of and most of the time I enjoy. But gentler? Maybe that’s a goal (but not an easier one) for me to work towards. I’d certainly like to be able to bring happiness and smiles to my friends with the little things, the incidentals, just like she does to/for me.

Something else I do not want to be is predictable/stereotypical. Another part of yesterdays conversation with my mum I was sure would go one way – she should know something but knowing her she’d need reminding. I also thought my sister wouldn’t know the same thing for definite because of how long ago it was and her being seven years younger than me. But they both did. Which was a nice surprise.

Then today I had conversations with people which were predictable. In fact tonight before one of the conversations I said to Dad I wanted to talk to this person about X and then went “but of course they’ll pretty much say this.” and he agreed with me and then pretty much word for word they did say exactly that. Predictable is comfortable, it’s safe because its the same and you know what to expect. But it can also be a little boring and frustrating too especially when relying on someone for something and needing them to do it differently but getting the same old, same old. I’d probably be thrown off if this person did ever change though… like I said, predictable can be comforting and tonight part of me wanted to say to in response “don’t ever change.” But I didn’t. (as an aside, Firefox’s stupid automatic spell check doesn’t like words with apostrophes in any more. Weird. I like it even less now. Anyone know how to either turn the damn thing off (preferably) or change it so it’s not bloody american?!)

So I was thinking about all that and wondering how people view me, am I predictable? I am, I hope, not a stereotypical crip. But I’m not sure I want to be predictable either. I suspect, however, that we are all slightly predictable in a way. I suppose what I want to say or what I’m trying to say is that I want to be independent and free and I can’t think of exactly what I mean. Basically only a little tiny bit predictable. It’s not always an easy thing to achieve and there are/will/have been many bumps and twists on that path.

This entry is not easy to write.

Also I have many “not really my sort of person” people in my life, people who I’ve crossed paths with but if not for fate or whatever forcing us together probably wouldn’t have chosen to spend time with or even met in some cases. Perhaps describing them as “not really my sort of person” isn’t right. People who I wouldn’t necessarily have picked out of a “potential friends” set up because we come from vastly different backgrounds, life experiences/expectations etc but who have done a lot for me, and come to be good friends. A lot of those are either PWD or people (usually TAB) who originally came into my life professionally because of my disability. I guess what they say about disability being a great leveller of playing fields is true.

The ability to reach out to someone and give them something, sometimes even things they didn’t know they wanted or needed or were missing from their lives and make such a difference is huge. I’d like to do that for others if I could. Pay it forward, as they say.

>Things to Think About.

>It was really nice to see Auntie Sheila and everyone this afternoon and I did feel a bit more cheerful when I was out.

I think part of the blah down-ness might have come from the fact that I’ve not done very much of anything other than computer time, knitting and a bit of reading over the last few days. I definitely couldn’t have been in the bureau this week. Overdoing it at the weekend and then spending a lot of time at home recovering is not a good mix for me mental health wise. I guess those two mornings a week where I’m in the bureau do make a difference to me after all. I knew they did but I didn’t know it.

The stupidest thing about all of that is that out of the seven days since I came back from the regatta I’ve had three days where I’ve done propery stuff, two where I’ve done bits like go to sainsburys and only one where I have been at home all day. I guess it comes down to what you’re used too and truly an hour out and the rest of the time at home, usually alone (days I went to sainsburys) isn’t great. I’m used to MORE. Doing and being MORE is what makes me happy. But I couldn’t have managed MORE this week.

Is that what they call Catch 22? I’ve never been able to get my head around that much as I’d like too. Several people have tried repeatedly to explain it though. And talking of that, I think that might be one of the next books I read its been sat on my shelf for years.

Time for a paradigm shift me thinks. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to do that though.

This next week is going to be pretty busy I think so that should shake some of my blues away.

When I was talking to Auntie Sheila earlier we were saying about how there are some very lonely people in this world.

I would never have said that I was a lonely girl. But then thinking about all this this evening and that conversation and everything that goes with it, maybe I am? I’m never bored (or not usually) because I have plenty to do and plenty going on around me. Maybe, just maybe, all of this comes down to a touch of loneliness though?

Something to think on.