Wishful thinking. I would like to KNOW you. But then; you would have to open up to me. Maybe you would have to like to KNOW me too. I am too granted for that. When push comes to shove, I am there to count on. As long as I can.
Sometimes. From time to time I meet people for whom the designation ‘intellectual’ is talking dirty. I find this a pitiful misunderstanding. Supposedly they mix it up with snobbism.
Being intellectual means thinking thoroughly, forming your own views based on your knowledge, experience and intuition. Whereas snobbism makes use of pretenses, appearances, name dropping, falsification. It is a reoccurring happening throughout history; hostility, intolerance, even violence towards intellectuals. Somehow they manage to evoke this within the human interaction. Envy, jealousy? In any case an error.
Wrong conclusion. Somebody told me once that I was judgmental. She was wrong. I am opinionated, yes. But not judgmental, definitely not.
My definition is; an opinion is to be refined, polished, changed if necessary. If you come to a new interpretation, new understanding of a person, or a situation then you adjust your opinion. An opinion is your own idea based on your own perception.
You are judgmental if you measure people (mostly) around you according to common beliefs, dogmatic reasoning, conform guidelines. Being judgmental means in my opinion (haha) that you are not thinking independently.
Daydreams again. I dreamt that I was reaching out for you. You were so close; I could hear you breathe. You were smiling. I could see my hands almost touching you. You weren’t there. You were, but you weren’t. I was there, but I wasn’t.
Kindness. It is easy to forgive. Not easy to forget. Can you really forgive without forgetting? Can you protect yourself if you do forget? What to do when the interaction prevents you from following your own rules? What if you can’t alter the synergy?
Handicap again and again. I would have liked to make a happy home. With lots of laughter, love, warmth, understanding, culture, conversation. Instead I have this disease and with me everyone else close to me. I cannot wrestle myself free from the dependence on a daily basis, or concerning bigger issues. Issues like raising my children without too many bruises, getting proper aid, having an income. Sometimes it is a lonely struggle; it seems to have advantages for other people when you are weakened. I haven’t even mentioned coping with the disease, holding on to a perspective.
I don’t think I have such extraordinary problems, but this handicap deprives me from the ability of keeping my own direction.
Question again. How would you like to be remembered? Are you prepared to accept that people close to you may have a different idea of you than you have yourself? Can you manage to agree if it’s right? Are you sure enough about yourself if it’s wrong? What if someone doesn’t know your worth? What if it is someone who should know?
Friends. Imagine that you are a jigsaw puzzle. People close to you – family, friends, acquaintances – all have a piece of you. Some one tiny bit, some a lot. A few have wrong parts that don’t fit the picture.
There comes a moment – sooner or later – that you should be able to tell whether someone comes with a right, or wrong bit. It can be quite frustrating when somebody repeatedly tries to fix a wrong piece into the whole. That feels like being given the cold shoulder, being ignored, denied as you are.
It is desirable to improve your view of the image the puzzle makes. Hopefully you reach a point after which it doesn’t matter if someone doesn’t know you well. Stay open to different views though.
The last word. Do you also know someone who accuses you of wanting to have the last word? Well, if you are in a dialogue – a discourse between two people – it is a mathematical certainty that one of you will have the last word. If they have a problem with you being the one, then they want to have the last word themselves. So, what’s wrong with it anyway?
In my opinion, a good conversation is about exchanging ideas, inspiring each other, improving arguments. It is most definitely not about being right. Not about forcing the other person to acknowledge your being right. That’s a boring perspective.
As far as I’m concerned, you can only have the last word if you die when having said it. You can hope for having said ‘famous last words’, but there are no guarantees.
Women’s day. You know you have found the Right One if you feel that you can be yourself when you are together. If you feel appreciated as you are. It is OK –constructive even, at times- to be criticised for what you do, but never for who you are. If someone is able to find all your buttons you’re trying to hide and pushes them, than it is a mismatch. If someone condemnes you for acting like you would with your buttons pushed, after they pushed them, then it is a mismatch. If someone belittles you to be the one up, than it’s a mismatch.
But if someone brings out the best in you, if you feel you can make mistakes and you’ll be forgiven, stay. Don’t look any further. If the both of you can take turns at being the strong one, like stepping with your left and right foot, one after the other, so naturally, stay. Don’t look any further.
It is a very romantic idea, that this would be so black and white. So simple. It never is. Try to strengthen and improve yourself. Give, there are always people, who will be happy with you. Who are in need of at least a friendly voice. Surprise yourself.
Daydreams. I went for a snowy forest walk on the mountain with my best friend. He was abundantly happy, jumped around like crazy, bit the snow and sneezed, again and again. It felt cosy, this white world. I was listening; could hear the snowflakes falling when my dog was quiet for a moment. The silence was like a giant pillow. The cold was freshening. Invited my children & co. for a trip. There was an exhibition about archeology in a nearby city, or another one about impressionism in another city. We took the train. The frozen landscape was flying by outside. We had hot chocolate with apple pie. Were having a great time, lots of laughter, good conversations.
The first dream was real more than twenty years ago. The latter never happened. I can do whatever I want to. My freedom is limitless. As long as I stay inside my head I won’t be confronted with a body that doesn’t work.
Human nature. When you are sick, disabled, you have the opportunity to experience the surfacing of an ancient predator instinct in people. That’s when their aggression –verbal, or physical- is directed towards others who are weakened –the prey. Maltreatment, or abuse can come from various directions; whether from people whose job is to supervise if you are indeed in need of aid, or from a person you think you should be able to trust.
Nobody, in the prey position, is ready to give up. Assuming that they deserve what’s coming, is like accusing a woman of being guilty of her own rape, because she was too sexy.
makes you dependent on care, help, attention. Dependency causes other people to
think they can determine your every need, move, thought.
in a loss of privacy, autonomy, independence.
It is almost
impossible to explain why you want something done this way (your own way), when
someone else, who lends a hand, wants it that way. People who can help without
trying to switch off your head are a rarity. People who can let you be who you
are and what you are, that’s not common. It will be taken as lack of gratitude,
or cooperative spirit when you keep to your ideas, or manners. When someone
makes an effort (sometimes quite big) to assist you, it is understandable they
choose to do it in the most efficient way, for them. Still, there are moments I
wish I was a cabbagehead, while being able to think is my only fortune. Apart
from the kids.
something I said farewell to a long time ago. I don’t have any privacy. At all.
Only in my head, I do. That makes it extremely difficult to let go of exactly
that ability. To be able to think straight. Have my own ideas, preferences,
Handicap again. No idea if I was able to tune in on someone else if it was the other way around and I was the healthy one. If it was a loved one, I hope so. Empathy is a female feature. That should help me. A mother has to understand the needs of her young, whether they are hungry, cold, or too hot. It is simply functional. Alpha males can also possess this characteristic; a good leader is able to sense what goes on in the gang. But they don’t walk around by the dozen. Alpha females neither, by the way.
A handicap aggravates conflicts. I suppose my greatest problem is not the disease itself, I am surrounded by problems like everyone else. Being crippled and dependent deprives me from the right to address these problems like I would like to. It is a struggle for equality; I don’t want to be the same. I am not the same. I want equal rights. I don’t wish to have to make double, or triple effort for everything. I already have the disease to deal with. That is the meaning of a handicap.
Being ill prevents me from being the mother I would like to be, the professional I worked my whole life to be. I don’t need other people to add to this. And yet, that happens. Revalidation doesn’t mean you get help to escape processes everybody is subjected to. You have to learn to cope with it and the illness at the same time. Perseverance!
speech disorder of some kind can cause people to think that you are
interrupting them, while you are trying to finish the sentence they were
talking through. Or: at some point you will have to start speaking, otherwise
you’ll never get to say a word. Anyway, you take too long.
interactions will take place high above your head, between people standing face
to face. You will have to break your neck attempting to take part.
You are lucky, if
you are not placed front outwards. Mostly it is advisory to start thinking
about something else to do.
Socializing. I have
experienced situations where someone simply grabbed the wheelchair from behind
to put it aside when it was in the way. They placed it facing the wall, as if
it was empty. But I was sitting in it. I was on my way somewhere and needed to
pause for a short while.
Or: someone with the
sincere intention to help, would address your companion, because they think
they know better, can do better, whatever.
You hear the quarrel
unfold somewhere at the rear, nobody asks you. You haven’t even seen the
speech, hearing, mobility will make people think you are retarded, even if they
have to ask you to whom they could talk instead.
They make sure to
use simple language, repeat, talk loud.
But sometimes you
will end up in an oasis of revalidating consideration. Encounter someone, who
picks a chair to sit at your height, talks naturally about interesting things, conducts
a dialog. And most people just don’t know how to approach a disabled person and
don’t like to be confronted with it.