I met Erin on Twitter a few years ago. She is known as @QueenofSpain. I liked her name instantly. A little known fact about me is that at four years old, I apparently declared myself the reincarnation of the Queen of Spain in response to my parent asking “Who do you think you are, the queen?” I had no idea then where Spain was. It was one of those eerie little kid talking about places and people they have no knowledge of kind of moments as I knew names, places, and a wealth of information about a former Queen of Spain. Regardless, I felt an immediate kinship to Erin because of this, whether she knew it or not.

After meeting on Twitter we connected on Facebook. We chatted occasionally. I had no idea she had Lupus. I learned her husband worked on films and I am studying Motion Pictures. I learned she was a reporter and she had children, one who was struggling with a potential “invisible” disability. I have a son with Aspergers, Bi Polar, and ADHD, so I could relate. I saw her many, liberal rants about politics. We share many of the same views.

As I got to know Erin I realized we shared a lot of the same beliefs – about family, a love for Detroit sports, and a rich Polish heritage. We grew up only an hour apart with long Polish last names. I am a bit younger than her, but not by much. I also learned we shared many of the same struggles. I have watched as Erin has come to need a wheelchair and understood her as I had been there myself, a decade earlier. I have read about her struggles with healthcare and having to get assistance. I have felt the political struggles she has fought online personally as we have often come from the same place, both having “disabilities” if you will, which allow for insurance and governmental abuse.

Erin struggles every day because of Lupus. Her children have had to sit by and watch her go in and out of the hospital. They have experienced so much and yet they seem to be very well adjusted, happy, caring children. In spite of her struggles with Lupus, Erin and her husband, Aaron, have raised their kids to be unique individuals. They have raised them to care about their family, but also strangers on the street. Erin has raised these children not to see themselves as better than others, but as compassionate human beings. I am proud to know Erin because of this. There are not enough kids being raised to think for themselves, to be strong and independent, but also to love their fellow (wo)man. It makes me worried for our future, with so many self-serving children being raised to believe they are better and deserve better than others.

I commend Erin for resisting the status quo. It’s hard, in a world where conforming seems the easy route, to allow our kids the freedom to be as “weird” [sic] as our kids can be. We do not want them to hurt. We want them to be able to fit in. We want them to have friends. We want them to be able to hide their differences so they are not teased for them. Erin, instead, is teaching her children to embrace their differences. She has a son with OCD and Tourettes and yet she feeds his interests in the solar system and Stephen Hawking. Her daughter has a crazy style of dressing that might not always match in conventional ways, and yet Erin encourages her to dress how she feels, often allowing her to express herself in adorably vibrant ways. These are happy children living in a time when not many children can truly experience happiness.

The reason Erin has succeeded at raising such great kids is because she herself is an ardent supporter of the people. She fights for the rights of those with disabilities and illnesses, the GLBT community, children, women, and other minorities. She supports free speech and free thought. She is not afraid to speak her mind and put bigots in their place. I read her well-thought-out rants on politics and it gets me fired up. It demands my own response. Erin experiences our joy with us and cries with us at the sadness we have endured as minorities. She truly cares, in a world where not many do anymore.

So…let it be said that I do not admire Erin because of Lupus, but in spite of Lupus. In spite of Lupus she is still living her life as a fighter for the people, as a fighter for her kids, and in the process is still fighting for herself.

To learn about Erin Kotecki Vest visit her website at: http://queenofspainblog.com/

Technorati Tags: Erin Kotecki Vest, Queen of Spain, Blog, Lupus, Admire, Blogger, politics, liberal, fighter, human rights

There is NO EXCUSE to bully…not one. Even if a child is taught that people with disabilities are less, because that is how many were treated in Biblical times, or that being gay is a sin because their church says so, that still does not give a child the right to verbally or physically harass another human being. That’s right. The person being bullied is human…just like you and me. They breathe oxygen. Their blood is red but looks blue in the veins beneath their skin. They have feelings and emotions. They feel sadness and joy, excitement and fear. Essentially, they are just like their bully physiologically; both are Homo sapiens.

If bullies remembered this, we would have no need for such legislation. We would not need to make a special law to protect children that are bullied because there would not be any bullying. The reason bullying occurs is because these bullies are often bullied themselves. They are devalued and made to feel like they are not human. They feel good by dehumanizing others…by treating them as though they are subhuman. Many of these bullies do not even consider their actions, the hurt and pain they are causing, and fail to recognize their victims are human themselves.

As much as I wish I could completely blame the government, this is where parents need to step in and teach their children how to treat other human beings. Our words and actions are often critical of others. We make fun of people without even realizing it. Look at the way we bash celebrities we cannot stand…because we do not see them as people, as humans. It is okay for us to criticize them since we do not know them. We grow up learning this as we have done the same to peers we are not able to relate to…the ones that are different. We are taught not to see them as humans…as people, like ourselves. We can torture them because we do not believe they are just like us emotionally…that they have the same kinds of feelings, themselves.

I was tortured by my peers in such a way, from the time I entered public school. In 1986, I was mainstreamed because it was the law and because I was smart. It was in this first year of school that kids all over the elementary school I attended tortured me on a daily basis. They called me a horrendous name, for a five year old. I was called “duck”. The reason behind this was my unattractive gait, a symptom of having Spinal Muscular Atrophy. While walking, my step was more a waddle, henceforth the reasoning behind calling me “duck”.

It got to the point where I could not walk down the hallway without hearing other students, from a variety of grades, quacking at me as I passed by. I would hear snickers and laughter following their quacks. To add insult to injury, I was cast as a duck in our Kindergarten play. Everyone wanted to be a bunny rabbit. I could not hop, but boy could I waddle. So, guess who was forced to be a duck? I remember crying and having to be convinced to play a duck. None of the adults could comprehend why being a duck was so upsetting to me, but then, they did not experience such harsh teasing.

It was 1987 when I first declared it was better to be dead than to live with any type of difference. What 6 year old should have to have these thoughts? Back then, my school was as guilty as my peers were. They knew the teasing and bullying was going on and yet they did nothing to stop it.

Things did not get better as the years progressed. The school attempted to force me to go ice skating, for gym, and threatened to fail me if I didn’t go. I was teased for my disability, my clothing, my family’s financial status or lack thereof, my family’s unpopularity, my weight, my hair, the way I spoke, the way I moved. I was deemed stupid, fat, ugly, nasty, pathetic, worthless, a loser, evil, a nothing. Not a day went by, in the 13 years I attended the Lake Local School system, where I was not called names, made fun of, or treated like a piece of crap.

In high school, things got worse. I was the butt of the senior joke one year. I don’t like talking about it much, but just know it involved dead rats. My doctor had me removed from the school, for my safety, as I was recovering from surgery that had almost killed me, at the time. I had just returned after missing nearly six months of my sophomore year. When nothing was done to stop the bullies, I was forced back to school. As bad as my peers were, I was equally as tortured by the administration of the school, who broke various laws pertaining to my lack of IEPs and refused to offer services to help me be independent at school, even as they accepted extra money for me to attend their school.

Raised Catholic (or Lutheran, prior) I spent much of my nights crying myself to sleep and praying for God [sic] to either change me into something better or kill me. Neither happened, and I was ready to kill myself. In the time since I managed to escape that environment and a nasty home environment, I have realized that life can get better, but it is still hard. It is a constant struggle to be different in this world. There will ALWAYS be bullies. There will ALWAYS be haters. However, as a kid, these were things I could not comprehend. Children want to see the world through rose-colored glasses. Finding out the world is not as sunny as it should be is difficult to understand.

I had no protection. I had nothing to stop my bullies. I also did not have the government backing an idea that bullies can justify their reasoning for bullying. This bill is wrong. Since the government does not appear to be willing to budge on this awful legislation it is up to parents to take matters into their own hands. Please…I beg of you. Do not let your CHILD be a bully. Do not let your CHILD devalue another human life. We are all different in our own way and that should be celebrated, not devalued. Teach your children now and help us build a better world, because the government can do nothing but seem to make it worse…for everyone.

Oh, and Michigan…shame on you. I’m glad I left. I won’t be coming back anytime soon.

Technorati Tags: bully, bullying, parenting, parents, Michigan, torture, teasing, torment, peers, disability, GLBT, gay suicide teach, children, school

It’s hard being a kid and having any form of special needs. Robert, like me, is a person with a disability, only his are not physical. He has Asperger’s Syndrome, a social disability, and Bi Polar Disorder, a mental disability. Though you cannot tell he has any disability by looking at him, if you hang around him, it does not take long to realize he is socially awkward. He is also lovable, helpful and caring, but most people his age do not stick around long enough to see that side of him. Kids are cruel and that means he is the butt of their jokes and does not have very many friends his age.

I worried he would have another disappointing birthday, so I set out to make sure people were at his party and that it did not matter that he did not have many friends his own age. I invited my new friend Joey, who is closer to me in age than Robert, but loves hanging with kids of all ages. I invited my new friend Katie, who loves to sing. I also planned a surprise. Ash’s friend (from High School) Kris, her two girls and her niece would drive Robert’s Nana and cousin, Braxton, down to surprise Robert. In all, we had one Nana (60s), two 30-somethings (Ash and Kris), three 20-somethings (Joey, Katie, and I), a 16 year old (Robert), a 9 or 10 year old (Kris’ daughter Koda), a six year old (Braxton) and two five year olds (Kris’ daughter Kenzie and niece Brit).

When Kris arrived, they all went to TGIFriday’s (sadly I cannot get in her van, so I stayed home). That is where Robert wanted his birthday dinner. Then they came home where Joey and I were waiting. We just received a Playstation Move to check out and that’s when the party began!

After it took five adults (and finally Robert) to figure out how to set up the Playstation Move and Singstar Dance, we were in business!!!

At first, Robert was apprehensive about dancing, as were all of the adults, so we let the little kids dance! My friend, Katie, decided to spend her time singing!

But, after seeing how much fun Kenzie and Braxton had, Robert was raring to go. He decided to try it out with Joey!!!

He is actually pretty good and this game kind of makes everyone look awkward!!! He had a blast dancing and that’s the important thing!

By this time, everybody was getting into it!!! We had hours of dancing fun!

We got Ashtyn into it, by having her dance with her nephew, Lil B Man….

Kris’ girls had a blast and Kenzie was a little diva on the dance floor!

We even caught some hidden moments that people had no idea we were filming.

For instance, watch Kris get her groove on:

Robert got lost in the music and we captured him singing Lady Gaga:

We caught Nana (Sylvia) getting her dance on, which is rare, since she does not even like her picture being taken (nor does Kris, who is dancing with her):

We honestly believe Nana is set to be the next YouTube sensation!

Of course, the funniest moment not caught on tape was when Ash and Kris were dancing and Braxton, on beat started singing, “Old People, Old People are Dancing…” while he danced in front of them! Now THAT would have been a moment I’d have liked to capture on film!

Either way, Robert had the 16th birthday I’d hoped he’d have! That’s the most important thing. As his parent, I am happy!

Technorati Tags: Playstation Move, Singstar Dance, 16th Birthday, Family, Friends, Parenting, Kids, Birthday Party, Video Games, Fun

That statement above is not referring to the actual salad dressing. Who in their right mind would be giving salad (or dressing – or both?!) to a Shih-Tzu? Oh no, my beloved furry face hates the Hidden Valley Ranch commercial. He can pick it out of any that play on our television. Heck, he can hear it three rooms away and go into psycho-barky Shih-Tzu mode. He hates the commercial with a violent, little dog passion!

Oliver has been watching television since he was a baby, when we first got him. At first, we thought our little Muffin Man (as we commonly refer to him) was just staring blankly at the television, but oh no! He actually watches. He will pay rapt attention to the television shows he watches. He loves watching Soap Operas with Nana (especially General Hospital) and sports with me. He even likes the occasional cartoon, though kids’ shows aren’t his favorite.

Of course, Oliver is mainly a critic of commercials. He has commercials he loves, commercials he can tolerate, and commercials he downright hates. Eventually, his tastes evolve and change though none have remained the same quite like his feelings about that fun, Hidden Valley where every kid loves their veggies.

At first, we thought it was just the sound of children on television. His first love/hate relationship was with the Band Aid commercial. Then, just to annoy him, I started singing, “I am stuck on Band Aid…cause Band Aid’s stuck on me…” Well he didn’t much care for my rendition either, so I know he happened to hate the song, but he’s slowly come to tolerate Band Aid and its commercial. I’m almost proud of him for his doggy evolution.

Not so with Hidden Valley Ranch. When Oliver hates something you best turn the channel or face the repercussions. He barks, whines, cries, howls, barks, lunges at the television, barks some more and he might just attack the clicker holder for refusing to mute or turn said channel. If it’s two AM and Hidden Valley comes on the television Nana leaves on (to help her sleep) look out! He’ll wake up most of the house, if they aren’t already awake. If Oliver had his way…Hidden Valley Ranch would be dead…from the airwaves.

Hidden Valley Ranch is his enemy and I’m almost afraid to play the video of the Hidden Valley Ranch commercial simply because I know he’ll hear it, three rooms away, over two fans and loud rain. He’ll hear it and want to destroy it (and me for playing it) because to my little puppy face, Hidden Valley Ranch is worse than Satan to a Christian. He, hates it so much…I don’t think he’ll ever come to respect Hidden Valley Ranch. Luckily, he can’t read, so I can continue to enjoy it on my salad!

On a side note: Ash was watching Big Top Pee Wee on television, and we’ve learned Oliver dislikes Hippos. He put his nose right up to the hippo on screen, holding the fat animal that could crush him like a toothpick to a stare down. The hippo, being on television, was uncooperative, so that just pissed Oliver off even more!

Technorati Tags: Hidden Valley Ranch, Watch television, Oliver Twist, Shih-Tzu, Shih Tzu, commercials, dog, puppy

One of the shining gems in nearby Flint, MI is the Flint Cultural Center. The cultural center features a Planetarium (Longway), Sloan Museum (which has lots of fun stuff including the annual car show), stages, Youth Theatre, a place for music, and the Flint Institute of Arts. The Museum features awesome visiting galleries, and the past few months there has been a Comic Book/Comics exhibit.

Well, we just found out about it, right before it ended. That meant, Ash, CT, and I piled into the YourRide (accessible, but often unreliable public transport) van to head downtown to the FIA. Of course, we decided to go on the day it poured and had thunderstorm warnings. Well, CT & I rode downtown alone, because Ash was running late (it took a little longer to get me ready — oops!) and Your Ride was running early.

So, we get there, and as soon as we scoot inside to wait for Ash, a downpour happens! Ash has to run through the rain from the non-accessible car we own, to get inside. She’s not too soaked as she was dropped off by her mom just two steps from the door. Well, we weren’t allowed to take videos/pics in the comic book area, but we could in the area with other exhibits. The trip was really fun!

Check out the fun I had in the following videos/pictures:

Pretending to Chew Gumballs

This is My Bike After the Accident…

Technorati Tags: Flint Institute of Arts, Dominick Evans, Fun, Family, Comic Books, Art, Flint Cultural Center

My grandmother, sweet Noonie, passed away on December 17, 2008. I loved my grandmother very much. We had our differences occasionally, but I never doubted her love for me. I am very close to my grandfather and I feel so connected to him that sometimes I truly believe I can feel the ache in his heart at the loss of his beloved wife of 65 years. They spent 69 glorious years together (if you count dating) and he’s had to endure his first day, Christmas, and New Year without her for almost 70 years. I am just distraught for him, over this.

When I called my Grandfather, to check up on him, my mother, a person I don’t talk to if I can help it, grabbed the phone from one of my cousins. I’m not exactly sure I can remember all she said. I know it was something about me writing about and bad mouthing her on my blog. I know she said she planned to ruin my life by telling the world about the “real me” and I know she did it all in front of my grieving grandfather.

I did the only thing I could do. I ignored her. I didn’t say a word. This was about my grandmother, her death, and my grandfather’s grieving. All I could think about was his hurt and how rotten it was of anyone to do this to HIM. He’s suffering and hurting and that day I hurt badly for him, too. It was a rather selfish thing to do, and I refused to take part in it.

The longer I thought about it, the more irritated I became. First, I scoured dominickevans.com for ANY mention of my family. There was nothing! I saw one mention about how my family was dysfunctional growing up, but I didn’t mention anyone specifically or by name. So, what the heck was she talking about? I checked my Myspace and Facebook, too. Again, no mention.

I don’t talk to anyone that I know she talks to, except my niece and cousins. Sadly, I’d been out of touch with them for quite a few months (except for an occasional hi), so I couldn’t come up with any RECENT mention of my family, at all. By choice, I choose to mention my mother, as little as possible. Still, I was just very confused about what “talking/badmouthing” was going on on my blog.

Second, why go as far as to say you’re going to ruin my life? Seriously! Is this second grade? I’m 28 years old, which makes my mother, 63. Doesn’t she have better things to do with her time then try to ruin my life? I felt like I was on the school playground and I could almost hear the neener neener neener sneer.

I don’t want to talk or badmouth anyone, but I do want to share my life and I want the truth about my past to be known. That is part of why I have a blog. I hope to inspire others, by sharing my life with them and letting them see they aren’t alone. I wasn’t going to mention the incident I listed above, but that has made me realize that perhaps I should be talking about these things, so people can understand my life, the way I see it.

This brings me to my darkest hour. I’ve been dreaming about writing down all of the things I’ve experienced. My dad died in 2001, but he often comes to me in my dreams. He comes to me and tells me I need to share my story. I need to share the truth. I need to tell what I’ve been through, so others, in similar situations, know they’re not alone. I’ve tried to ignore the messages, the calling, and my father’s voice, but I can’t any longer. He just won’t leave me alone!

I should probably mention the things that might “ruin me”. I was an evil child in some ways. I could be mean. I was an awful tease who picked on my brother. I was selfish, but sometimes I needed to be. I could yell and scream with the best of them. I invented insults when people pissed me off, one of my favorites being (when I was little) “you’re ugly and so are your clothes.” I wasn’t always the nicest person, but I’m happy to report I’ve grown out of that.

I don’t want to get into all the particulars, but I have a diary that was written when I was born and when I was little. It stopped being written in around the time I was diagnosed with Spinal Muscular Atrophy. I hope to one day share some of the unusual things said in this diary, because they are quite telling.

I don’t think she (I have trouble referring to her as my mother — because I can’t fathom any mother doing to a child what she did to me) had children to have them. I believe she had children to be loved. She felt a void in her life, and she thought having kids would fill that void with love. Well, when I wasn’t born a lovebug, cuddly, friendly little thing, I feel like I was looked down upon unfavorably.

While I don’t remember being physically abused when I was young, there were instances of manipulation. It wasn’t until I was a teenager and I had come out that the real abuse began. I was living with my very own version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and I couldn’t seek help. I’d heard about what CPS had done to my friend in a wheelchair. My family knew I was too scared to call for help, and didn’t think what was going on was wrong, anyway.

In my darkest hour, I tried to slit my wrists. I wanted to die. I wanted the pain of living in such a harmful environment to go away. I was being fed depression pills because I was believed to be depressed, but all of them made me sick. In my darkest hour, I took a sharp metal watch edge, and whittled my wrists until they were raw. In my darkest hour, I didn’t feel a thing.

I was over 18, during this time. I was stuck living in my parent’s home. I can’t recall why I was punished. Perhaps I was mouthy. Perhaps I was a jerk, but Dr. Jekyll told my brother to turn off my wheelchair in the back (so I couldn’t move or reach the button to turn my chair on) and wheel me into my bedroom to sit, alone. My brother pushed me in and then I couldn’t move. My wheelchair, once a source of such freedom became a jail cell to my body and I felt such terrible anguish. In my darkest hour, I grabbed the only thing I could reach; a metal watch and I whittled. I whittled and whittled and cried out for someone to end my misery and my pain.

Then Mr. Hyde came into my room, acting like nothing was wrong. Looking at my wrists, Hyde threatened to put me in the hospital, but my dad didn’t have insurance (which meant I didn’t have insurance), so it wasn’t all that important anyway. It wasn’t a real suicide attempt, so it wasn’t worth seeking help for, I guess. I ended up enrolling at Wright State, three hours away, shortly thereafter. That was truly the first step in saving my life. You know the funny thing? Once I finally got away, no medicine was needed. I’m no longer depressed!

To think this was an isolated incident is foolish. There were many more abusive things that I feel were done to me, but other people seem to think I deserved them. I was taken care of, in a wheelchair so why shouldn’t I be grateful? I don’t know if taken care of is the right word. I do know that I should be grateful for “sacrifices” made to care for me. I’m not sure if being abused is constituted as care you should be grateful for, but that’s my big dilemma.

There was something done so bad, I’m still embarrassed to talk aobut it. It’s the most traumatizing thing I’ve ever experienced and my girlfriend, Ashtyn, is the first person I’ve told about it. What I can share is all the slaps across the face I received. Dr. Jekyll would get mad if I was mouthy and I’d get flat palmed across the face. Angry, I’d go to bed and I would cry myself to sleep. Knowing my weakness for sleep and my ability to say anything people want to hear when asleep, this would be the time when Mr. Hyde would come out to beg forgiveness and not allow me to go back to sleep until said forgiveness was received.

Sometimes, I feel like I’m crazy, because I’ve not spoken about this with very many people. I’ve blamed myself for this. I’ve thought I deserved this. I believed I had all of this coming to me. I’m no longer at this place where I believe it’s my fault, but this truly has helped to shape me as a person. I am who I am, and this has affected my life. There’s so much more I could say or share, about what I’ve endured, but this is getting pretty long, as it is.

So many people go all their lives with other telling them they’re not abused. Any unwanted touch or treatment IS abuse. I didn’t want Dr. Jekyll to lay her hands on me in the way she did. I didn’t ask for it. It affected me negatively and therefore it IS abuse. It’s abuse because I SAY it’s abuse. It was my body being violated by a slap or something worse, and I didn’t want any of it. That’s why I wanted to share this with all of you.

If you’re in a similar situation, you are not alone. There is hope. I got out and I’m in a wheelchair. I require the care and help of others, but I managed to find a way to get it without Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde, or her iron fist.

Technorati Tags: darkest hour, slap, abuse, wheelchair, unwanted, Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde, pain

The renovations are being done by Ashtyn’s brother, who has a building license. He’s now putting down a laminate style flooring in our living room and is painting the walls. He’s moving out furniture to have more room for me to get around our very small living room. It will be a lot easier for Ash to use the Hoyer lift, which gets me in and out of bed, in the living room, with a smoother flooring. We’ll be getting new cupboards for the kitchen (ours are on their last legs), new flooring in the bathroom and kitchen, and Ashtyn’s mom’s bedroom is being steam cleaned. All in all, it’s a project that should be finished by Christmas, but for now it’s slowing down my entire day.

Each day, this is pretty much what happens. Our four year old nephew comes over. Ash and/or I, play pirates, with cars, games, or watch an assortment of television shows, amongst which his favorite is Hannah Montana. I know, gross right? Yesterday, I went into Hannah Montana overload due to the marathon I had to watch. I still think I have yet to recover. The entire time, if CT’s schoolwork isn’t done, he cries about how he doesn’t want to do it, because he wants to play with his cousin. Instead of just doing said work, he has a hissy fit the entire time, and has to spend that time in his room. Once nephew and Bro in Law leave, he finishes his schoolwork with little problem, but the entire process is rather annoying considering it doesn’t click in his head, he should just get said work done before his cousin, Lil B, comes over.

While one of us is distracting the kids, the other either has to sit in with CT and make him do said schoolwork, or work on what little work they can do. If CT has no schoolwork, my work is nearly impossible to do, as both children scream so loud, concentration is nearly impossible to attain. The two bring out the absolute worst in one another, leaving all parents frustrated. Of course, alone, both are perfectly fine, and better behaved. It’s interesting to watch, so some days, we each have to take a child (Ash and I), as opposed to letting them fight with one another.

Needless to say, work wise, writing wise, and creative wise I’ve Gotten NOWHERE. The living room is being worked on and while this renovation is necessary, I’m so ready for it to be over? Is it Christmas yet?

Technorati Tags: Home Renovations, Writing, Work, Blogs, Creative, Children, Bad Behavior, Fighting

I’ve been in therapy since I was five. That’s about the time I realized I was “different” due to my disability. That’s a pretty early age to realize such a difference (typically kids begin to realize between 8-10, sometimes later). My doctors took no precautions in recommending I go to therapy. I don’t really remember much of it, except I got to play with toys and I never told my therapist anything of substance.

As I got older, and I began to realize my family was a bit dysfunctional, I walked around with a chip on my shoulder. In therapy, I wouldn’t share anything of importance and often treated my therapists like scum. I didn’t want to be there, so why not make them suffer, too? I was deemed a ‘problem child’ with my therapists soaking up every little word my parents said. They believed every half-truth and didn’t even question why I had anger or was struggling more than any normal teenager should.

What became apparent is after “coming out”, the real abuse began. To me, it is abuse. It was unwanted. It was unwarranted. It was unnecessary. The funny thing is, I blamed myself for it, that is until I got into college and “chose” to go to therapy. I had been in therapy so long, by this point, that it was a no-brainer I’d seek out a therapist myself. Except, this time I didn’t ignore my therapist. I didn’t make up things just so they’d leave me alone. I actually spoke to my therapist. I actually explained to them what was going on in my life and for the first time, someone said…”did you ever think this isn’t your fault?”

I’d been so used to being blamed for everything that it was a revolutionary, almost empowering, feeling. I saw my therapist more frequently after that and I began to re-live moments from earlier times in my life. There were signs, early on, that not everything was as it should be in my home. In public, my family tried to paint a perfect, “caring” and involved picture, but beneath my fake smile and bubbling personality was the pain of living in a dysfunctional home.

They say abuse repeats itself. I remember the person who abused me telling almost the same story. This person had been beaten down by their parents. This person had been constantly told it was their fault. This person blamed themselves until someone outside the situation observed that perhaps it wasn’t this person’s fault. This isn’t just a case of history repeating itself. This is a case of a cycle of abuse continuing. I’ve tried my hardest not to continue this cycle with my own son. Some days, it’s incredibly hard not to revert to the only way I knew existed for families, but every day is a new day and I’ve made great strides in this area.

This person is no longer in my life. It doesn’t matter if the story told is that I’m an abandoning, brainwashed person who doesn’t give a lick about their family. I had to break that cycle for my own piece of mind. For my own family, I had to make sure that I had a clean break from my past. Unfortunately, this person believes I’m prone to exaggerations and that what they did to me wasn’t truly abuse (but isn’t that what their own abusers said?). I’ve had to come to grips with that and I’ve been writing my thoughts down to help me get through this and move past this.

So, why am I writing this? As part of the cleansing of my soul, I’m writing a book on my life. I’m explaining events in my life that have made me who I am. My goal is to make others see that despite a multitude of obstacles placed in our paths, we can overcome them and live healthy, happy and relatively sane existences. It has taken me almost 30 years to realize that.

That being said, I want to know what you consider abuse?

Is berating someone abusive? How about holding them down physically in any way or for any reason? Obsessing over your child’s appearance to the point of making them miserable? Trying to live vicariously through your child and then blaming them for not following your set path? Something else?

Please feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts on this matter.

Technorati Tags: abuse, child abuse, what is abuse, physical, mental, emotional, disability, parenting, harmful, berating

CT’s social disability makes him act younger than he is. Usually his friends are anywhere from 3-7 years younger than him. He’s a lighthearted kid who just wants to play outside and have fun. The two boys who have been picking on him are in their teens. I believe one is older than him by a year or so. The other, is only a few days older than CT. Initially, the second boy (closest to his age) had a mother who claimed she worked with autistic children, so CT was always welcome to come over.

According to CT, when kid #2 is alone, he’s fun to be around. When kid #1 (the oldest boy) is around, kid #2 doesn’t necessarily do anything to CT, but he also doesn’t stop kid #1 from picking on him and trying to make CT do something he shouldn’t be doing. Part of CT’s disability is his inability to lie. When he was younger, he just couldn’t lie period. He didn’t know anything about fabrication.

As he gets older, he sometimes tries (sadly, it’s a pathetic attempt to conceal truth that even a kid could pick up as a lie) though he always ends up admitting the truth when told it’s clear he’s not telling it. It’s nice to see he’s trying to do something so normal socially (though lying really isn’t good), but he’s just unable to fully grasp the concept of lying. That’s how we’re 100% certain he’s telling the truth about everything he says.

Of course, another boy in our neighborhood who is nice to CT says these kids scream at CT, calling him crazy and retard. The boy doesn’t understand why CT still wants to be their friends. CT’s biggest fault is defending those who are mean to him. The kid who sliced his shoulder/neck because he didn’t want CT playing with something did it, according to CT, as an accident. The kid who sits on his chest on the trampoline and bounces, telling him to “take it like a man” is just “playing”, so no harm, no foul, right?

So, he will defend the second boy. The second boy didn’t mean to let boy #1 pick on CT. He didn’t stop him from doing something we technically could call the police for on boy #2′s property. CT doesn’t get that boy #2 isn’t going to stop boy #1. They’re friends and they sometimes try to come down to our house to try and stir up trouble with CT. Of course, they have the belief that nobody is going to believe CT. He’s retarded right? These boys know nothing about autistic children, their superior intelligence and their inability to lie. These boys underestimate CT, significantly. He’s three times as smart as both of them.

We had planned to have one of us go down and talk to boy #2′s mother (she’s a crazy fundamentalist Christan, who I believe would freak out if she knew what was happening on her property) and boy #1′s dad (he’s pretty much not worth talking to). However, the family (not all of us) has decided that for CT’s benefit we will just not let him go down there and we’ll keep a better eye on him.

I don’t agree with this personally. I think the parents should know what is going on. The rest of the family (excluding CT, who doesn’t know we’ve all spoken about this) fears retribution. We’re planning to move in the next year. The parents won’t do anything because their kids will lie about it. Bringing the police in means CT will be interrogated, something he’s definitely not strong enough to handle. The boys will be more willing to seek out CT and hurt him worse, is the main fear. Still, I feel like they’ll do that anyway, having gotten away with what they have already.

We’ve agreed to a compromise. We’ll be talking to CT’s therapist, to see what he thinks will be best for CT. We’ll find out next week if it is better to confront the parents or not. I think they’ll try and attack CT at another friend’s house. We don’t let him out of our sight much at all, but he does have an occasional moment at the neighbors who are nice to him. We’re obviously more wary now, knowing that CT has problems telling people he considers his friends, no.

We’ve also put CT in more regular therapy. His therapist plans to work specifically with CT on these social aspects…learning to say no, standing up for yourself, when you know something is wrong (he knows it’s wrong – just ignores that fact) you go home or find a safe solution not to do what you don’t want to do, amongst other things. His medication has also been tweaked. He’s less hyper and more docile, which should help calm the racing thoughts in his mind.

So, based on what you’ve read, do you think we should confront the parents or should we just let bygones be bygones and keep CT safe on this side of the street until we move?

Technorati Tags: CT, cruelty, kids, abuse, parents, mean, no, social disability, autistic, aspergers syndrome, bully, neighborhood

But….I hate Sarah Palin. I don’t mean I dislike her. I HATE that stupid bitch. I cannot stand her. She is the biggest hypocrite on the planet. John McCain made a huge mistake in picking her as his running mate. He wanted the “Hillary” supporters and the Evangelicals all in one vote, but seriously, he’s about to alienate both groups thanks to choosing this woman.

I agree that USUALLY a politician’s kids should be off limits, but:

-When a person is trying to force “beliefs” on a nation that do not even work in her own home she is a fuckin’ hypocrite

-Bristol Palin is 17, pregnant and not married – Sarah Palin believes ONLY in abstinence. She wants to remove the teaching about birth control from public schools. Birth control could have HELPED Bristol had she believed in it. Heck, what about condoms? What about AIDS? Shouldn’t kids know to protect themselves?

-Her daughter is also an underage drinker and there are pictures to prove it. How does that sit well with “Republican family values”?

Likewise, Palin wants to censor entertainment, especially books. She wants to ban certain books. How can you ban people from reading? That’s bullshit. Shouldn’t we be encouraging people, especially kids, to read? Maybe if Bristol was busy reading she wouldn’t be off getting knocked up. Just a thought.

She also wants to force creationism into science books and possibly remove evolution. Evolution has NEVER been proven to be wrong. It might not be 100% proven to be true. That’s why its called the “Evolution Theory”. It’s a highly supported theory. No proof has proved it wrong. EVER. All evidence found as of now, in the many years since Darwin lived points to the theory being correct. In fact, it is one of the most thoroughly supported scientific theories EVER.

Creationism has never been proven. Creationism isn’t even a theory. It’s a belief system put into place by a minority of Christians. The only support for it is “faith”. In faith, there is no scientific proof. It isn’t even an educated guess. It’s just believing in something that you can’t see because you want to believe it.

That has NO ROOM being taught in SCIENCE class. SCIENCE is based on facts or proving things that could be backed up factually. Now don’t get me wrong, but unless Jesus and his Heavenly Father sweeps down to speak to all on Earth as a collective whole (even the non-Christians) telling them “Yes, I created all of you”, which has never, ever happened, EVER according to history, there is no way of proving that creationism could be or is real.

Furthermore, though I homeschool my son, I do use books that public schools generally use. I refuse to teach my son something that cannot be proven except by a faith that is not mine. I feel that if parents want to teach their children about creationism, they can do it at home and/or at church. It has no place in public education.

Sarah Palin is less experienced than Obama. What if McCain has another bout of cancer and dies? Do you want a woman who obviously has NO experience save for being the mayor of Podunk, Alaska and a half term Governor running this country? I sure as heck don’t.

Sarah Palin should be at home raising her kids. She’s obviously needed there if her daughter can’t stay out of trouble enough to get pregnant and drunk. She also has a child with Down Syndrome. Does her hubby take care of him or are there nannies? Raising a disabled child can be a full time job. TRUST ME. I know first hand.

I am all for women having careers if they can, but any parent, mother or not has an obligation first to those lives she/he creates. Otherwise, she shouldn’t be creating those lives. If they need mom and/or dad at home then the parent must sacrifice their overachieving aspirations if it is better for their child. It’s NOT fair to bring a child into the world and then go be Governor leaving the kids on their own. It sucks for the kids and makes sure they have no positive rolemodels.

Family values my ass!

So, what’s a person to do? I dislike and disagree with Obama doing anything to help this country, but I feel he cannot mess it up more. I don’t believe he can fix it. I feel with him we’ll have another eight years of status quo.

With the McCain/Palin ticket, I feel we’re looking at worse censorship than the George Dubya Bush era. That’s pathetic and scary.

I don’t believe in NOT voting. I was a political science minor for crap’s sake. I just wish Hillary was running or at least going to be vice president. I feel Obama made a huge mistake in not picking her. Biden sucks. I feel like I’m going to be forced to do something I dislike strongly and for what? Eight more years of no change.

Both choices SUCK…but McCain/Palin sucks worse. I hate this decision I have to make.

Technorati Tags: Sarah Palin, John McCain, Barack Obama, Joe Biden, Political choice, Family Values, voting, book banning, pregnant, Bristol Palin