Realistic Limitations

I wonder sometimes if people who don't have any type of handicaps ever really stop to think about what it feels like for those of us who do. And I don't mean just give the politically correct line where everyone is equal, and should be treated that way.

That's all well and good in theory, and I appreciate the sentiment, and I actually work incredibly hard to *be* on equal footing, not using things to my advantage where school is concerned, or abusing my handicaps unless I absolutely need it for parking on a really bad day physically. Because I don't like the fact that I actually do have limitations, and those limits cause me incredible pain, both physically and psychologically, a great deal of the time.

And I can't help but think that perhaps because I do a really good job at not focusing on my limitation, people don't stop and consider at all the fact that it's there. I have a major and severe neurological limitation, and I'm always going to. I can put on a wonderful show, and for all intents and purposes, most people will never notice that anything is wrong with me. I'll simply be a little quiet, or my words will be a little off. I'll forget a few things here and there, or mix up the occasional sentence. And the more upset I get, and the more frustrated, the quieter I'll get. And the worse things get for me. My speech will stop functioning for me entirely, at a certain point, and I'll become so flustered that I won't be able to function until I calm down. The neurons that should fire across and let me think clearly, and communicate, simply shut down.

Stress, all stress, causes my brain to misfire. When my pain levels go up, things get more difficult for me to think clearly, and I have a permanent injury that causes pain. And I still manage for the most part to lead a normal life, and handle most things. But the combination of regular daily stress, and my normal daily life simply means that I can't handle a whole lot on top of that.

And because of it, I avoid people and places who make me uncomfortable, because as soon as I get agitated, I know from experience there's a really good chance I'll stop being able to speak. And then it'll have a snowball effect of feeling like a freak, which simply makes me feel more agitated, and it compounds itself. And I have no way at all to communicate any of that, unless there's someone with me who speaks my broken language, and who I know understands me.

I have spent five years avoiding new people and new places like the plague, for fear of being humiliated. It only took one time of losing my speech and being mocked severely and ridiculed, for me to never want to go out in public again. I don't like being put on the spot, don't like speaking in public, and have a deep-rooted fear of strangers.

And for me? Everyone is essentially a stranger. I only have the people that I've kept over the last five years. There isn't anyone before that, and I don't like dealing constantly with people who seem to take some sort of perverse pleasure in wounding me. Yes, I was a jerk. I get it. I can't change it. I don't remember it, and unfortunately, there's no apology I can even give that's going to mean anything for actions I don't remember, about people I don't remember.

Every time I take a few timid steps out of my shell, I end up getting slapped back by someone or something so abruptly that it makes me simply want to stop bothering trying. I like the internet, and the ability it gives me to get to know people one-on-one, and not be overwhelmed by trying to use my speech first. And for the ability it gives me for them to know me, without being judged for the failures of who I used to be. By the time I meet people in person, I've at least usually warned them that there's a chance my speech will be odd. And I don't hide things about myself, either, but the dynamics of getting to know someone over a keyboard are different.

I prefer it this way. I have words. I have thousands of words, as evidenced by all the writing I do here, there and everywhere in between. I love to write, to express myself. But I can't always get those out the way I want to in any other way than to write them all down. My brain isn't wired that way anymore. It never will be again, and that's something I had to learn to accept. I was able to learn to be functional again, and that was fine. I can go to school, can study for classes, can still read a book.

Except in much the same way I now have transference issues that prevent me from looking at a test and not being able to take the information on one sheet of paper, and putting it onto a Scan-Tron, I now have a transference issue that sometimes prevents me from taking information inside of my mind, and getting that information out of my mouth correctly. That's just how I am now.

But to someone who has no such limitations, that concept is impossible. The idea of a brain that can't process information the way I want it to is probably impossible. My sister laughed at me one day, as I typed in frustration to her "THIS!!!" And she wanted to know what "THIS!!!" was. I meant to be typing "SHIT". I had all the characters, they were in the wrong order. I often speak words the same way. I have the information, and it comes out the wrong way. It isn't intentional. But unless I say nothing at all, sometimes what comes out isn't always what I planned. As a result? I often say nothing at all. And that's fine for me, because being quiet is normal. I like listening and hearing what other people have to say.

And now, while therapeutic to a certain extent, I'm sleepy. I've had a long and frustrating day. Waiting to hear back, as I can be very impatient, has been wearing on me. Even if the answer is 'no', I still have no patience for the actual waiting. So I will take my leave, and go and rest for a while. I have a mountain of homework to attend to in the morning, and a paper to write. And egads, the keyboarding I've been trying to pretend I could avoid forever, even though I knew that wasn't going to work.

I am unsure what I'm going to do to sort out the issues in my life. I know for certain that I won't continue to drive myself crazy. There's no point to it. I don't need the stress, I'll have enough of that coming up shortly as it is. The last batch of tests will be back shortly, and I have one last set of scans to go in and have run before I head out for San Francisco at the beginning of April. I'm already nervous enough about that, without adding anything else into the mix. Mostly, I just want peace.