In a message dated 02/13/2000 12:17:22 PM Eastern Standard Time,
[log in to unmask] writes:
<< When I was little, all the other kids treated me like I was invisable. They
didn't talk to me or play with me. I only had a few friends.
>>
I know that still troubles you Virginia.
You know it's kind of funny. I didn't have my disability when I was a kid,
but I was the nerd kid on the block. I didn't have the right clothes, I
wasn't cool, and my parents weren't cool either. I was the last one to be
picked for the team, ad nauseum. I remember how much I felt isolated, and
that I didn't have any real friends. But really, I did have a couple of good
friends -- it's just that they weren't cool either.
But this is different, I know now since I have a disability. I'm the nerd
again in a way and that hurts sometimes. But I'm a big kid now and I can
love my disability nerdness (especially since Bill Gates has given a whole
new meaning to nerdness in general).
When I was in 1-3rd grade, there was a little girl who was disabled in some
way. I don't know what the disability was, but she was very, very small, and
was weak physically. But she was also mean to everyone and no matter what
you said to her she replied in an ugly way. It just seemed like no matter
what you did, you just couldn't make friends with her. She also threw things
at people. I remember that now that I'm thinking about it.
She brought medicine to school everyday that was mixed in chocolate milk.
I'll never forget that because one day in third grade she had gone to the
drinking fountain in the hall so she could get a drink of water after taking
her medicine. I was there too and I said hi to her or something. She said
something snotty in return, and it made me so mad that I pushed her chocolate
milk/medicine up from her hand and made her spill it all over her dress. I
just got tired of being spit on when I was only trying to make friends.
Right away I felt bad, but I did it and it was too late. I don't remember if
I got in trouble over that but I probably did.
The next year on the first day of school, the teacher told us that she had
died over the summer. All I could think of was what I did to her that day
and I felt terrible. Now whenever I think of it I cringe. A lot of kids
made fun of her and from my perspective, I didn't realize how damaging that
was to her. I suspect that she didn't trust anyone and that it didn't matter
how nice I was going to be to her, she just wasn't going to trust me. The
other thing was that I was really only trying to make friends with her
because I felt sorry for her -- not because I really wanted to make friends.
Kids aren't stupid -- they're just kids. In retrospect, I'm sure that she
could see right through me.
I'm not saying that her attitude was correct, she was pretty nasty to people,
but now sometimes on a bad day -- on a really bad day -- when someone I never
met before is nice to me, there is a part of me that wants to say "I know in
the end you're going to hurt me so let's get it over with now. I know you're
really a jerk so let's be up front about that right now. Let's not have any
of this "pretend nice" crap, okay?" I don't say it though, because I am an
adult and I know that the feeling stems from the little kid in me that
doesn't want to get hurt again. I also know that just because someone has
hurt me in the past, that doesn't mean that everyone is going to hurt me. I
have to admit that I've become a bit reclusive in my disability years, but I
think I keep part of myself open to make new friends who are not disabled --
at least to give them a chance. It's hard though sometimes. You know the
old saying "Burn me once, shame on you. Burn me twice, shame on me."
Betty -- justa flappin' my gums today.
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