The Challenging Month of May

May has been quite the month. It always seems to be. There's so many good things that happen (Kierra's birthday being one), but then there's also often trials we encounter, and of course the reminder of pains that we endured in the past.

The irony that this all occurs in the month of May does not escape me. Spring is supposed to be the time of new beginnings, right? Yet the month seems to always be a time of new beginnings, sometimes endings, and then reflections on the past. I'm often left in a strange mood like I am today. It's hard to put it fully in words. I'm sort of melancholy, but also there is hope and excitement underlying somewhere in there. I tend to withdraw a bit. My communication with other people tends to become more superficial if I even do communicate with anyone outside the immediate family. This year, I was trying to change that with this blog. I wanted to try to get those emotions out that are often very difficult for me to verbally express.

I don't even know if I'm making much sense. I feel like I'm rambling. I apologize for that! ;)

I'm left thinking of all those big questions that we often don't really want to think about. I even worry I have become a bit death-obsessed lately. It happened the first time when my dad died. I was always worried if someone took longer coming home than usual. I've gotten a lot better over the years, but I feel those fears creeping up on me again. I worry about something happening to me. I don't feel ready to go anytime soon, but yet I worry that it might happen. And then I worry what that might do to my family. My fears next center on my husband. What if something happened to him? I go through every member of my family, until I realize how morbid my thoughts are and force myself to do something else to get my mind off of it.

Soon we will be into summer and all the events that come with it. I'm sure I'll get busy and most of these morbid thoughts will fade away again. Or maybe not? This year seems to be a big one of change. I don't know yet if the overall change will be for the better or for the worse yet, though. Guess I'll just have to try to hang on to every shred of optimism that I have left.

I wanted to write more, and am hoping what I wrote even makes sense, but I have to go take care of the kids now. I guess I will leave this here for now, and concentrate on the treasures in my life for now. :)

Facing the Fears

I'm sure many of us know of or have heard of someone who is disabled and rarely leaves the home. Some may wonder how that happens. After all, most places are handicapped accessible now, right?

It's not that easy though. I know all too well how easy it is to be trapped up in the fears and anxieties. I fight hard to not let myself be controlled by it though.

Yes, many places are handicapped accessible. Yet that doesn't mean that it still might not require an extraordinary amount of effort. It also requires facing the public, which is something I still struggle with to some degree whenever I go out. It can be little things...someone glancing at me a bit longer with an odd expression on their faces or sighing in exasperation when I'm not walking fast enough. Or sometimes it's even big things like someone confronting me about parking in handicapped, because a young mother of three couldn't possibly be handicapped. It's hard to face this daily. Sure, you can say, "Don't care what people think or say!" but it's hard to ignore when you're faced with it daily. I'm open about my disability. If you ask me politely, I will tell. But I don't like being looked at like a freak show, or even with a look of pity. Don't pity me. I just want respect and to be viewed as another human being.

The psychological aspects of being "on show" when in public can be daunting enough for many people and that's what mainly keeps them home as much as possible. The logistics of physically going out can sometimes make the task insurmountable at times. Going out in a snowstorm alone and trying to walk on unshoveled sidewalks? Forget it! There's no possible way I can do it. So unless I have someone with me I can't go to any location that doesn't have clear walkways.

Then there's also the assumption that anyone disabled is wheelchair-bound. Don't get me wrong, I am very thankful for all of the aids that we have available and don't believe that I'm somehow more important than someone in a wheelchair. But it would be nice if all modifications were not only made with a wheelchair in mind. I need ramps to get up curbs. Steeper ramps are very difficult for me, whereas they may be alright for someone in a wheelchair. So even the term "handicapped accessible" might not mean that it's overly accessible to me.

So, yes, going out in public can be scary. When I'm not out as much, I do see those social anxieties creep up and it bothers me so much. My disability has taken so much from me, but I'm not letting it take the freedoms I do have left from me.

The first snowfall of the winter we were leaving and Michael was helping me out the door. I'm not proud to say I sort of snapped at him. I felt he was babying me, and I bristled at it. I realized instantly that he was just trying to help and I was being unnecessarily mean, so I quickly apologized and explained that I needed to do it myself. I needed to remind myself that I could walk somewhat on snow and needed to do what I could do. If I let him help me all the time, I would become paralyzed emotionally and not be willing to do it on my own anymore. I think he understood and all was well. Yet I think of that day often as a great example of what it's like for us sometimes.

Besides me fighting the fears and trying my hardest to not allow myself to become housebound, I've found having children has helped me greatly with this. Like many other things, it makes me do things sometimes that I would probably not do for myself. I would do anything within my power for them, even if it means braving a world that may not be overly accessible, or overly accepting. My hope is they receive gifts as great as that from me as they have given me.