The D Word

So today my mom text me "call me :)" I knew that something HAD to be up. She said "I have some really great news! The counselor wants you to come talk to her 7th and 8th graders about 'being different'." At first, I was really excited about this because my major is in psychology and in doing motivational speaking I would be addressing an issue that is being dealt with in this age. I got off the phone with my mom, still excited... then it hit me. I can barely get in front of my college classmates and tell them "my name, my major, and something interesting about myself" (college students understand what I'm talking about). I began to think about why I have a problem speaking in front of my peers.

In high school, I was always the last one to ask for help. Literally. I'd wait till the last student left the classroom to get help from the teacher. I didn't want the other students to think that I was stupid. I also didn't have that many friends because I was afraid of being regretted so I didn't try to make friends. The friends I did have often had to stand up for me... which I hated. I didn't have hundreds of boyfriends like the other girls in my class. I didn't have a boy ask me out for my junior prom... or my senior prom. Actually I asked my best friend to take me to my senior prom (by the way I got queen). Anyways... I always thought that there was something wrong with me. That there was some hidden reason why people didn't like me... that there was something that scared people away from me. And I was right. It's the D Word. I'm definitely the D Word.

Let me clarify something. When I was seven years old, I dropped on the playground for no apparent reason. I was a healthy 1st grader. I was a softball player, I was a dancer, I was right handed, I was a straight A student (yeah I know... I was only in 1st grade but still), I was smart. Then all of a sudden I was none of those things. I had three strokes at the age of seven. I couldn't walk, talk, eat by myself, I couldn't write... none of those things. I was no longer labeled your "NORMAL" child. I was diagnosed with Primary Angiitis of The Central Nervous System. I was on chemo therapy for 5 years thereafter being diagnosed. I was excepted to live past a few years. A "normal" child doesn't go through all of these things. I obliviously learned to write again... just with my left hand. I learned to talk, to eat, to walk for the second time around. However, I was always aware that I was not like everyone else... that I was very very different.

From the time of my strokes til about 8th grade, my "bad" arm would do some crazy crap. It would crumble up people's papers, it would grab people, it would grab my hair, it would do all of these things that would just embarrass me so bad. My arm was my own enemy... I could almost hear it saying "I'm gonna make you loath me. I'm gonna make you so self conscious that you won't be able to look people in the eye." And my arm sure did do just that. I grew up embarrassed of what had become of my body. My body didn't work like everyone else's. I was never going to be the basketball player, the cheerleader, or the track star. My brain was and is forever damaged. My brain isn't like everyone else's. I often get my thoughts backwards. I stumble over my words when I talking about something serious. And a part of me hated that because I was not supposed to be this person. I was supposed to be a dancer, a math whiz, a softball player, a cheerleader.

Different. Society, the media, the world says it's the D-Word. Think of how many different races are on the cover of Cosmo, Seventeen, and Teen Vogue. Now, how many people do you see on the covers of those magazines with people who have a disability? You see more representation of different races than you ever see of disabilities. You don't see a woman with her seeing eye dog. You don't see a young boy in a wheel chair. You don't see a young girl with a hand that won't let go of her hair, people, or the paper that she was doing her homework on. YOU DON'T SEE IT. So being different is bad... right? If you don't look like the people on the covers of the magazines, if you aren't skinny like the girls on Pretty Little Liars, if you don't have the clothes that the girls from The Lying Game have, if you don't have a cute boyfriend, if you don't have a husband by the time your 25, if you don't lose the baby fat within a week of having your baby... you are different. You know what! If that's the kind of person you have to be to be a part of society... then you can just keep all that junk. I'd rather be the D Word.

Back to the 7th and 8th graders that I will have the chance to talk to. I have a crazy arm. I have a limpy leg. I have a weird brain that doesn't always work the way I want it to. It's nothing to be ashamed of. It's ok. It's a part of me. I'm not the average person. I don't set my standards to be the average person. I strive to be so much more. I strive to be the best person I can be. I strive to make the best grades that I can make. I strive to represent my disability. I strive to be different from the rest of the world. I strive to be Presley Darby.  If different is what I am then so be it. I'm glad for it.