� 2001-2006 by Shiloh
�
This probably should have been my first entry ever--in Thoughts of a Writer... my old diary on here, but of course, I was too caught up in my problems with Evan. And of course, it should have most likely started this current stint in the Diaryland culture. But naturally, I started it almost seamlessly moving from that one to this journal with day-to-day events. What am I babbling about, you ask, since that is what this sounds so much like. Well, recently Aubree had to do a short essay on mental or physical disabilities. One option was to write on her feelings about disabilities, which of course, she chose. And she also got on me one day because our parents were making her do chores.
"Why don't you make Shiloh do any chores?" she demanded. "There are things she can do. All she does is watch tv and be on the Internet." A slight exaggeration and charge Mom and Dad took immediate offense to on my behalf. But even with their attempts at explaining, she still has no clue what-so-ever about what it's like to have the limitations I do.
This weekend added a whole new example of her cluelessness. Last night she must have called Mom and Dad because the convo was on Becky's (her girl friend) cell phone. Aubree brought the phone to me, but she would not let me hold it.
"It's Becky's cell phone and you'll disconnect Mom if you hold it!" she justified. Which translated to me: I'm in charge; you're disabled, therefore you can't hold it or operate it right.
Excuse me? I'm limited physically in what I can do actively, but there is no problem with my mental capacity. I think I know how to hold a phone, thank you very much. I asked her three times to just let me hold it before seeking Mom's higher authority to get Aubree's cooperation.
"Oh, that is so babyish of you, having Mom tell me. That is the babyish thing you've ever done." she mocked.
She just can't get it. And my family doesn't see how she regards my disability. It's like I told Heather, I'm a nimrod where Aubree is concerned. I'm disabled, therefore I have no legitimate authority when Mom and Dad are gone and cannot do even the simplest things. I'm a nimrod whom she pities.
But that is not the objective I intend to make. She's just an example. My objective is this: to explain what it's like and what I have. I have Cerebral Palsy, folks. There is damage to the cerebral cord, which affects certain muscle control and speech, depending on how severe the damage is. I always have said in Heaven I chose this challenge because I knew or felt I could do it. But that doesn't make having it any easier. There are many times I wish I could throw in the towel, get up out of my chair and walk away from. During these moments I feel so helpless, so...limited I want to scream. I just sit and cry. But of course, that doesn't and hasn't changed anything. For the time being, I am what I am--a physically challenged woman who can do a lot for herself if she'll but strive to do so.
I don't want anyone's pity. I'm not looking for it. That makes me just plain angry. There are people worse off than me, and if I can deal with this happily for the majority of the time, then please, try to as well. In this regard, I don't pity myself too often.
As for handicap accessibilty, please. Just because you stick a metal bar on one wall next to a toilet, or have things lower in more open spaces, does--not--mean--it's accessible! If you and your helper cannot get a wheelchair and both of you in a stall all at once and be able to move about as you need to it's not accessible! And what good are lower shelves and cupboards if you cannot reach any higher than the bottom two shelves? It's not accessible! Contractors and workers need to work from wheelchairs if they really want to build truly handicap accessible places.
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Angels are friends. You may not always see them, but you know they're there.
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