A Child From Holland, Part 2: Getting Something Out Of It.

I had no intention of making a series of A Child from Holland posts, but Foster Abba asked me an important question- "Then what happened?"- and I realized I had more to say. So here we go. As in other posts, all names that are not mine are pseudonyms.


This is something that's been brewing in the back of my mind for a few days... friendship and love... I went to a small, denominational school until I was 13. There were social pros and cons to that- I had most of the same people in my classes from Kindergarten on up, so they knew me and my walker and my Holland wooden shoes and crazy walking. They knew other things too, though, like how I had bathroom accidents and sometimes got extra "attention" in the classroom from a paraprofessional, which, as we all entered the general insanity of adolescence, just gave the kind of kids who collect ammunition new and different weapons to use against me. I'm not saying I was their only target, I was different, a sickly member of the herd worth turning on, but intellectually I was their peer, and I was supposed to "just" have CP.- Unlike the English Language Learner who was another tortured member of the class I *knew* what they were saying and doing to me, and unlike the student who had the mysterious diagnosis of "Behavioural" I didn't melt down and run from the classroom to escape. (There were days I wished I could.)

All of that is just to say that changing schools at 13 was good for me. I met new people and reinvented myself a little...including buying 5 identical pairs of pants so no one would ever know if I had to change in the middle of the day. And it worked for awhile..until one day, at 14, I was taken aside by my paraprofessional.

"Who walked you to class yesterday, Ashley?"

"Um...Annie." Annie had become a very close friend the year before, and our madcap, giggling dashes to class were commonplace, her pushing my wheelchair through the throng while I balanced a precarious tower of books and binders on my lap- hers and mine, usually 6 or 7 books in total and the corresponding binders. It had seemed a good system- my Individual Student Support Plan (my province's name for an IEP) termed it "Self Directed Peer Support." My paraprofessional was still available, but usually we left her in our wake, planning lunch or the upcoming weekend as I peered for obstacles around the teetering pile of books.

"Well, that won't be happening anymore."

"Why?" I looked around- Annie hadn't arrived in the classroom yet, and, already prone to anxiety, I began to think the worst.

"Her mother called the school yesterday and demanded to know why it was Annie's responsibility to push your chair. I have to do it now, I'm sorry. I'll see you at 9." She slipped out, a nice enough woman who I liked okay, just as Annie found her way in and took the desk next to mine.

"You could've told me!" I burst out.

"I didn't know." Annie promised, looking right at me. "Mom took me to the doctor yesterday and he asked about my screwy thumb." Annie's thumb had been broken years before and had healed strangely. It didn't hurt her, but the doctors were trying some strange things with bracing that made no sense to either of us. "He said it still isn't straightening, and asked me if there was anything strenuous I was doing. I said no, but Mom started freaking out about my pushing your chair. The doctor said it probably made no difference, but she told me today she'd called the school, I'm so sorry."

--

Little did I know this was essentially the end of Annie and me. Her mother had decided, plain and simple, that I was a burden. That her daughter wasn't "getting anything" out of our friendship and was being taken advantage of. As a result, Annie was no longer allowed to visit my home on the weekends or to talk on the phone. She kept assuring me- and I believe she meant it- that I had done nothing wrong, but no teenage girls' friendship can flourish without girls nights and telephone conversations...and our days of giggling in the madness of the halls were over- Once again I was picked up by my adult parapro 5 minutes before each class ended and deposited in the next one. Annie tried to accompany us, but it wasn't allowed. I was "the different one" again...

My first love's mother also had this problem. We were fine for awhile, but then it didn't matter what either of us said, there was "inequality" and "deserving better" and we drifted apart.

Now, I have Immodest-Lady...and her mother has been the most blatant of all...but gifted with maturity and romantic love, she's fought back, refusing to believe it, reassuring her mother (and me) of all the wonderful things I do for her and for our household, even though they might not be as visible as her helping me with some caregiving tasks...

But all of this leaves me wondering- Do the mothers of neurotypical "Italian" children view all friendships with such scrutiny? Do they teach their children that friendship isn't a give and take, but is, instead, an opportunity for advancement? I hope not.

I wish I could take the three mothers in the above stories- Annie's Mom, First Love's Mom, and Immodest Mom, and ask them, if they were mothers of Holland children instead, wouldn't they want cross-border friendships for their children? Wouldn't they spend nights begging The Powers that they believe in for just one person to *see* their child?

I'm having a hard time being nice to myself right now

Long talk with my (favourite) professor yesterday, and we decided that a "strategic withdrawl" from this semester, and from academia in general, is a good thing right now. I just can't do it. I'm smart (I swear) but my brain is covered in some kind of clingfilm. I just... I can't absorb academics right now.

I bombed at Public Speaking class- and that's, essentially, what I *do* for a living, and what I *want* to do for a living, so there went *that* class before I turned myself altogether, and then this month-long stint of hiding in the house, hiding from everything, and I just can't come back from that right now- I could promise to, but I wouldn't be able to follow through.

So now I'm sitting back and looking at my options- I've applied for some jobs, I'm using my networks. I might even be able to work in disability advocacy, which is where my heart is right now. I won't lose the apartment, that's secure, and I just... I need some time to find myself. I haven't told my Mom, or anyone, yet really, except Lady.

That's so hard. I wish I could explain to you how smart I used to be. When I was little, school was a *breeze*- I was literally smarter, by 4 or 5 grade levels than everyone else . Whatever was going on at home, abuse, the fighting, the locked doors and the days when Mom would come in and take me in her arms, holding me tighter than I needed to hold her, ever, and tell me that *everyone* was having a day off from school today and we'd curl up in the big bed because my bio dad had hurt her worse that day than she could hide with make up and a smile. All of that didn't matter- once I was in my desk, I was in *the zone* and I was top of the class, every year, for 13 years.

First two years of university were easy too, but I was *so* young. I was 18 years old with no real idea of who I was in the world, or what I wanted to be.

And now, now I'm just going through the motions and the anxiety is crushing and those last 10 courses seem like a long, tortuous road that I'm never going to find the end of, and right now I just can't.

But everyone else expects me to be *so* smart.

And it's just not enough anymore.

Academic Expungement and Mothers Out Law

I know I've been quiet on the blog front lately. Mea culpa.

Have started another term at school, occasionally to my crushing dread, but I'm working on it. Only two courses with my favourite professor, who is retiring in April, and that's it.

Was speaking with the advisor for students with disabilities today and she noted that my transcript has a lot of.....blips (read: craters, with zeros) and that she thought I would be able to get most of them wiped, given the events of the last couple of years. I don't know if I can do that. I don't know if I am worth that. I'll work on it.

Unrelated, but related to the title, Lady's Mom mentioned wanting to drop by this weekend. Both of us had the same, resounding "EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW" reaction. My mom? When my Mom drops by she brings KFC and chats for a bit. Lady's Mom will spend the visit prowling through the house critisizing how we've got things laid out and whether we have healthy groceries in the cabinets. Not interested, thank you very much.

Well, that's it for now.

A.

PS: I will provide new Mackers pictures, and soon :) He's getting big, getting his big boy teeth now, too!

I didn't realise it had been so long....

I've started a summer job, Lady secured her first office job. My education funding is secure, and I'll be seeking counselling in the fall as well as tutoring. I do so dearly want to graduate.

I'm having a really bad pain flare which has lasted since Monday, June 22, and there's no end in sight. Lots of medicine. Just like work is lots of filing.

But things are brighter

Okay...

So I tried to spend the week at home, and I just couldn't do it. Trooped back to Lady's bag and baggage- I sleep better here.

Am slowly beginning to sort out the mess and misery of school- I can do this. E-mailed an Aunt who told me I have handled so many things in my life with grace, courage and intelligence that it is understandable that I should stumble now and then.

Got some really good news today- I have been selected for the Summer position I interviewed for. I will be working in a provincial government department through a program that employs students with disabilities.

I miss my usual summer activity of the National Youth Exchange, but it's not going ahead this year. No funding.

I'm reading and smiling along with so many of you. Thank you all for being here for me.

Crushed- If you're having a bad day, skip this post. Please

If you're having a bad day, skip this post. Please.

I don't want to be responsible for hurting anyone else.

Things are bad right now- so bad it's hard to breathe.

I failed school in the winter term. I haven't been kicked out, and I do have a social worker who decides whether or not I get to keep my educational funding, so I might have been able to work something out there.

But my Mom has found out.

I failed school last winter too, and there was screaming and sobbing and accusations, and I thought about just walking off the edge of a cliff somewhere because it seemed like things would never get better.

They did. Slowly, with lots of setbacks along the way.

I really pulled it together in the Fall, passed 5 courses for the first time since 2006, and then crashed again this winter.

I could list the reasons why, and the reasons why I lied, but I could never tell my Mom- We just don't work like that. So all she's had to say is that I'm selfish, only think of my own interests, and that I have to tell my grandmother and my aunt, and my stepfather that I failed. She also told me that she bet I didn't get up in front of all the people at the hotel last week and tell *them* I failed- Well, no, I didn't. Why would I? It wasn't relevant to my presentation topic- I had to be professional, didn't I?

I don't feel like my mail should have been opened (the only way she found out) I don't feel like I should be made to "confess."

Last week was okay, I was house sitting. I went home for one lousy night (Sunday) and caught hell in the morning (Monday.)

I felt like I needed a break, desperately, so I e-mailed my mother and told her I wouldn't be home, I had some thinking to do, but I was safe. I went to Lady's. There's been no communication between us since. I'm afraid to, and she hasn't reached out. Not even to yell at me and insist that I come home.

Lady's Mom is beginning to get a bit surprised/fed up with my being there so much. Lady hasn't told her what's going on, because sometimes they're not the most understanding people. I can't blame her for that- I very *rarely* tell my parents what's going on. Even that I'm hungry.

I'm facing having to go home in about an hour, and my chest is so tight.

I had my first suicidal ideations 10 years ago. They've never gone away. I'm having them now, even though I won't act on them. I'm just wondering how I could do things so I could get the services I need, not hurt my body too much, and not upset the people I love too much.

The part of me that's a peer counselor knows how very, very bad that is, but the part of me that's sad and frightened and angry wonders why I don't just do it- Just enough to show them all the kind of pain I'm living with.

I won't. I'm likely too much of a coward too change the status quo like that. Or too sensible.

I'm stuck- and I can't get out. Hell, I can't even breathe.

Back at School

Hey all

I'm back doing the Intercession at uni. Elementary German and 20th C. Popular Music.

I'm pleased with both- My German professor was a kindergarten teacher and so doesn't expect perfection, and my Music prof? What can I say. He's a grad student who wears great hats to class and comes up with brilliant accomodations for me- on his *own*- without seeming the least bit awkward or nervous.

Example- We have a playlist of 60+ songs that we need to listen to for the course. Everything from Mamie Smith to Bob Dylan to Frank Sinatra. Of course, going to the library and downloading all of these from a data CD would be possible, but the Music library isn't the most accessible. So, while I was puzzling out how I would manage it, Grad Prof suddenly grins, points to the bag on the back of my chair.

"Is that a laptop?"

"Yes, it is."

"Bring it next class and I'll bring you a jump drive, you can just pull the songs off that and give it back to me."

I show up for class today, and lo and behold, he's *remembered* the jump drive!!

I have high hopes for the next 6 weeks.

Light, love, and energy to you all.

Ashley

PS: Daily Funny

While waiting to go to class today, I saw two professors heading down the hall, conversing.

Prof 1 I'll just use the proleteriat bathroom

Prof 2 Are you sure? I really can let you in...

Prof 1 No no, I should suffer for my forgetfullness

*taptaptap*

Even though I feel so afraid and stupid right now, I'm still a really great gal...

Even though I feel so afraid and stupid right now, there will be brighter days ahead

Even though school isn't going so well right now, I have lots of other things to contribute to the world...


Oooooooh boy, I try not to post on Blogger unless I have something positive to say or funny to share. I don't. I'm done in...

I Survived Exams- And more!!!

I have one exam to write in January, but the rest, and all of my papers, are out of my way- But even more exciting....

I checked the mail today and got a SCHOLARSHIP! I am still in shock, it covers almost a full terms' tuition- But even just to GET it. WOW!!

Daily Almost Funny

For the first time in 5 years of university, Mom and I are not studying together for finals. She graduated in April.

This term, my laptop and I have taken up residence in the kitchen.

The following ensued- Mom just laughed, understanding perfectly.

Cast of Characters

Me

Sibing, herein referred to as Lizzie. Age 15.


*Lizzie leaves kitchen, turning off light to my left*

Me: Light on, please.

Lizzie: What? The light OVER your HEAD is on... (with all the indignance of fifteen)

Me, brain exploding: I need. That. Light.

Lizzie, backing away: Okay

*turns on light. Mom laughs from the den*

Ah, exam stress....

Rollercoster days

Pain is back down to 'too low for me to register' so I'll enjoy that while it lasts :) Some of you are going through tumultous times that you're blogging about- though I'm sure I'm only aware of half the issues- and some of you are having your trials and triumphs behind the scenes of your blogs.
Either way, I think of all of you daily.

As for me, I'm studying for finals. There were days I honestly didn't think I'd make it this far!

So cheers to all of you, and a pat on my own back for hanging in there.

On another note, does anyone know the name of the gremlin that lives in my laptop and *constantly* dirties my screen??