A Conversation About Overcomer by Mandisa

279 words

2 minute read

Last night, Tara asked if I had checked out this video.  She'd seen it on Facebook, via this post:

So, we watched it, and admittedly, I thought it was pretty good.  Definitely better than Flawless by MercyMe (which I reviewed - or ranted angrily about - recently.)  I told Tara as much, seeing as how she asked me what I thought in the first place. 

She replied, "That's because there's no one like you on it.  If this video had someone in a wheelchair would you feel the same?"

I admitted I wasn't sure.  There were several things I liked: mainly, that all the participants in the video were adults and therefore, had consented to not only being in the video, but also what content was shared about their personal experience.  I'm also, generally a fan of Mandisa.  Her voice is stellar, and her video didn't overtly pigeon hole disabled people and portray them as less than.

Tara persisted, "You don't think this walks the line toward inspiration porn?"

Again, I hadn't thought about it.  I asked Tara "What do you think?"

"I don't know!" she admitted, insisting that this video made her feel "some kind of way" but couldn't quite articulate it.  "There's so little representation for brain injury survivors anyway...but...I mean, doesn't this make you feel like people are being put on a pedestal for living their everyday lives?"

For my sister, brain injury recovery was (and is) a part of her everyday life. So, as she put it, a video like this, while not overtly harmful, "doesn't really help."

What do you think of Mandisa's Overcomer video?

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The Thing I Am Most Proud Of

201 words

2 minute read

The thing I'm proudest of isn't something I talk a lot about here:  I'm a published poet.

I've always loved writing, but didn't start writing poetry consistently until I was around 24.  I had this notebook I'd been given as part of a small church group I was attending with several other girls.  The same night I got it, I wrote my first poem in it.  Little did I know, that notebook would eventually hold most of the poems that went into my first book of poetry (published two years later.)  Four years later, I got published again - a book with more poems - and one where my sister took the photographs for the front and back covers.

I haven't written much poetry recently.  It's a desire that ebbs and flows.  Sometimes, it pours out of me (evidenced by the 5 or so notebooks and journals full of it, and the side blog that's entirely dedicated to it) but maybe someday soon I'll get back into the poetry-writing groove.

It definitely does my soul good.

Congratulatory flowers from my aunt, uncle and cousins after being published a second time in 2011

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Music Video Review: Flawless by MercyMe

370 words

3 minute read

A friend gave me a heads-up about this music video the other day, via the blog post Mercy Me, Your "Flawless" Video is Flawed.  That post, in my opinion, does a phenomenal job addressing why the above video is so harmful to the disabled community.

As a part of the disabled community myself, I have a hard time remaining even remotely objective about things such as this.  Frankly, they bring back a lot of bad memories of my experience with the oil and water phenomenon that was CP and Christianity.  My gut reaction is to get angry, and to be super offended.  Because it's 2015, and disability is still largely viewed as the result of sin - rather than another aspect of us being "fearfully and wonderfully made."

This video brought back for me, in vivid detail, why exactly I stopped attending church almost a decade ago.  In short, it's because my CP was all anyone could see - and not in an accepting, loving, "that makes you unique" kind of way.  It was seen as a negative.  As something to fix.  Anytime a stranger in our large congregation approached me, I was either an inspiration for doing exactly what everyone else did, or I was asked if they could pray "for my legs."

My CP was the only thing that mattered.  My heart didn't.  My hurt didn't.  If I admitted to struggling with anxiety and depression I wasn't trusting God enough.  If I didn't get healed physically in front of the giant room full of people, it was my fault.  I didn't have enough faith.  Only in my 20's at the time, these experiences were brutal.

So, seeing disability framed this way, on par with guilt, selfishness, and doubt is such a visceral experience for me.  It brings back in unflinching detail these years of my life when I was seen in only a single dimension.  (A distraction at best, and unacceptable at worst.)

We are not what they say we are, disabled friends.  We are multi-dimensional, lovely, made in secret and meant to be here.  Our disability only adds to what makes us so amazingly unique, so wonderfully made.

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My Biggest Insecurity

262 words

2 minute read

I'm going to be honest here and say that, by and large, my biggest insecurity is being disabled.  This is not because there is anything wrong with being disabled.  (There isn't.)  It's because, as a disabled person (and a disabled woman) I am more vulnerable to maltreatment (accidental or otherwise) than able bodied people.

I live keenly aware that my fixed income is all I have to live on, month to month.  I hold my breath and hope that I can get what I need in terms of adaptive equipment, because even with sufficient insurance, there are bumps in the road, and the process can take much longer than it should.  So I hope that, in the meantime, nothing breaks.  I rely on family, friends, and taxis for transportation.  And while my family has been great, and is so dependable when they are in town, they aren't always in town.  When that's the case, I am at the mercy of taxis that take an hour and a half to arrive, because it was specified that one of the passengers was in a wheelchair.

Having CP isn't always easy, and I don't want to paint an unrealistic picture on this blog.  I am proud of who I am (and that includes being disabled) but part of that identity means there are aspects of my life that are difficult, and where, a lot of my insecurities stem from.

CP isn't always easy.  Me and my sis, recovering from major surgery at age 10

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The ExerCycle: Time to Get Moving Again

558 words

4 minute read

Early this year, I was lucky enough to connect with a friend who helped me figure out some exercises that would work for me, without wearing down my body.  They worked, and I kept up with them for an amazing four months (about four times as long as anything had previously lasted, before my body started hurting and needing a break.)  It wasn't the exercises fault, but between a finnicky tendon and a pinched nerve, the past couple months have been largely exercise free.  No need to aggravate already injured things, right?

As I'm forever in search of low impact exercise that will allow me to keep moving but won't be too stressful on the bod (and as my heel and my neck are largely better) I had the inspiration come to me about a week ago: What about an exercise bike?

I rode a bike (a cool three wheel blue thing with a giant basket and hand brakes) when I was around eleven.  And aside from that, had to ride a stationary bike as part of rehab from surgeries I had at ten and eleven years old. (I still remember one amazing night when I voluntarily rode the exercise bike in the living room for an entire episode of Beverly Hills, 90210.)

ANYWAY, my sis went on the hunt, immediately, to see what kind of options there were out there for exercise bikes.  We pretty much dismissed the traditional ones, as they aren't meant for shorties like me, and very difficult to mount.  We looked at other options.  None seemed quite right.  They all seemed to require a lot of set up, and didn't have adequate pedals.  (I definitely NEED comprehensive straps to have a prayer of keeping my feet in place.)

Then, my sis found the exercycle.  Relatively small and ready to use out of the box, it seemed like the best option for me.  (Plus, thanks to another disabled user's tip, we also bought me sandals with a lot of straps, and used the single strap on the pedals to secure the sandals to the pedals.)  

Another great thing about it is that it's motorized, so it pedals by itself.  For me, this means I get to experience a smooth pedaling motion for the first time in my life.  Pretty awesome.

The first few times I had Tara help me strap my feet in.  The first day took a long time.  Yesterday (pictured above) it was really quick.  So, today, I thought I'd try to strap my own feet in...

5 minutes later...

So, I'm pretty happy with it so far, especially the fact that I can get on and off independently.  I've been doing 20 minutes a day.  I plan (per my friend's recommendation) to go three days on and one day off, so as not to overwhelm my body too much.  I'll slowly bump up my riding time until I'm doing 30 minutes a day.  I can already feel that my calves are getting a major workout, and I've been sleeping great.  (Forgot how awesome the sleep is when I'm exercising!)

Just putting this out there for anyone else who may be looking for an exercise option.  This is definitely one worth trying!  (But be careful when adjusting the pedals - they pinch!)

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The Worst Birthday I've Had

164 words 

1 minute read

The worst birthday I've had, I think, was my 21st.  It happened at a time when we were having a lot of family issues.  There was a death in the family right around our birthday that year, as well as other things.  It was more than that, though, because 2002 was a difficult year generally.

The singular good memory I have from that birthday was our uncle taking my sis and me (plus my younger cousin, and youngest brother) to the movie theater and we all watched Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron.  It was a beautiful movie, and one I felt deeply connected to.  

As I don't have any pictures of me from my 21st birthday, I chose this one, from about six months later.  It's very posed, and though they are my own clothes, I'm supposed to be dressed as someone else. 

It was a very painful time to be myself.

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Movie Review: Finding Nemo

637 words

5 minute read

Finding Nemo has been a favorite movie of mine since it's release in 2003.  With the impending release of its sequel, Finding Dory, I thought it was a good idea to review the movie for its disability representation.

In a word, I find it spectacular.  While you won't see Finding Nemo (or any film or media not featuring actual disabled human characters, because it is far too easy for we, as disabled people to be dehumanized) on Tonia's Big List of Resources for Learning About Disabilities I think there's a lot to be absorbed via this movie.  It's positive for people of all ages and all abilities, especially when viewed with an eye toward some of the film's disabled characters.

First and foremost we have the titular character, Nemo, a clown fish who was born with an injured fin after a barracuda attack (which killed his mother and all 400 of his siblings.)  Nemo's father, Marlin, is extremely vigilant about Nemo's safety, and would prefer to cocoon him at home, rather than risk his injury or death in the ocean.  Nemo, not knowing his life another way, wants nothing more than to start school and be like the other school-aged sea creatures, being taught by their scientist teacher, Mr. Ray.  Resenting his dad's protective nature, Nemo swims into open water, to prove to his classmates he is brave, and touches a boat.  He gets scooped up by a SCUBA diver, and whisked away.

While trying to find Nemo, Marlin meets Dory, a blue tang, with short term memory loss.  Though her deficits are clear, we see immediately that Dory is more than comic relief.  She possesses keen instincts, she's literate, and she can speak many different dialects of whale.  Much like with Nemo, Marlin doubts Dory's abilities, and repeatedly tells her the same thing he'd told his son:  "You think you can do these things, but you just can't!"  When, in despair, Marlin tells Dory he promised he would never let anything happen to Nemo, Dory responds matter of factly that "That's a funny thing to promise.  If you promise never to let anything happen to him then nothing would ever happen to him."

Meanwhile, Nemo's taken to a dentist's aquarium in Sydney, where he meets a moorish idol named Gil, who has a similar fin injury.  When Nemo gets stuck in the aquarium's filter, Gil instructs the other fish not to touch him.  When Nemo says "I can't [get out] I have a bad fin!" Gil turns to the side to show his own injured fin and says, "Never stopped me."  Gil talks Nemo through getting out by himself, and Nemo's able to free himself independently.

Marlin and Dory are on the right track to finding Nemo, thanks, in large part to Dory's strengths.  When she and Marlin part ways, she says, "I remember things better with you," which speaks volumes of how we, in the disabled community can thrive with the right support and environment.  In the end, Marlin and Nemo are reunited, and because of spending so much time with Dory, Marlin learns to also have confidence in Nemo's abilities. which are numerous.  He's a great listener and he can problem-solve, using skills he learned in an earlier setting.  He is compassionate, brave and protective like his dad.  Most of all, he does not hesitate to act when a situation calls for it.

Whether you watch this film yourself, for enjoyment, or with your kids, don't overlook the disability representation in this film.  Don't be afraid to talk to your disabled kids about what Nemo, Dory and Gil's disabilities are, but also what they are really great at.

Plus, it's just a really great movie, so time watching it, is definitely time well-spent.

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