Denise-- I am the mother of a child with CP among other problems--- I run a
parent support library for a parent support network in Ct--when I give
talks--I use my 25 times rule..( not that the number is a hard fast rule)
but you need to say what your child has 25 times before it rollsof your
tongue without tears- and emotions over flowing- Before it becomes real to
you..-Well I think that hold true also if you are the one with a
disability--and you were not given those chances as a child.  This also
explains alot the difference between men & women dealing with a child with a
disability--it is Ok for a woman to discuss it with friends, co-workers,
therapists etc.   but men are given many less chances to get their 25 times
in..hence it takes a lot longer to get to that point. We can't hold a child
accountable for their childhood situation-- and certasinly as an adualt you
have gotten your 25 times in and gone on in life and become a valuable part
of society!   Joy
----------
>From: "Denise D. Goodman" <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: Denise's Denial -Long
>Date: Fri, Nov 5, 1999, 9:43 AM
>

>Perk has asked a very valid and straight forward question.  "Denise, How
>could you have denied a physical disability?"  I honestly wish there was a
>simple, black & white, straight forward answer.  Unfortunately, human
>behavior is a complex puzzle in multi-shaded grays.  Even the most ardent
>slueth has difficultly fitting all of the pieces together.  However, I will
>do my level best to answer her question until we can all see a logical shape
>and form.
>
>Most people like life neat and tidy, but you can't always toss on a lable and
>group people together.  Here on this list, we have people with a disability,
>labled cerebral palsy.  You can also have a bunch of candy on a table marked
>"Chocolate."  Of course some might be dark, semi-sweet, have nuts, powdered
>as coco, or in it's raw natural state.  A rich piece of semi-sweet tastes
>nothing like the bitter pre-processed chocolate.
>
>The same holds true here.  (And I am in NO WAY implying some of us are sweet,
>bitter, or nuts  :D ).  I only use candy as an analogy.  In a way, those with
>cerebral palsy are like the cholocate.  We may all have the same basic
>disability, but we each have very different levels of physical ability.
>
>If you have always needed a wheel chair or crutches, or your cp is severe, it
>may be difficult to relate to the way I was able to deny being disabled.
>There are those on the list who say they were merely "brushed by cp."  These
>are the people who may easily identify with my denial.
>
>The doctors have always said I had an "Extremely Mild" case.  Additionally,
>I've had lots of help processing the small amount of raw disability.   Eight
>operations, 14 or so years of night and day braces, 16 years of physical
>therapy.  All of this helped me to deny my disability.  What at first appears
>a stark, illogical contridiction, makes more sense upon closer inspection.
>
>Being merely "mildly disabled" - I lived in a sort of pergatory.  (Again, I
>make the following comparasion only for the purpose of illustration.  No
>malice or judgemental inference should be taken from the following analogy.)
> - I didn't live with the sheer hell of being completely disabled, yet the
>heavenly life of being "able-bodied or normal" was always just beyond my
>grasp.
>
>I spent a very short time with other disabled kids.  Only in pre-school.  The
>remainder of my education was in "regular" school.  Not in a mainstream
>program, since that didn't exist.  Now, most children want to belong.  They
>need a sense of being liked and part of the gang.  I didn't want to be
>"different."  I didn't want to be the only "cripple kid" in regular school,
>but I was.  In order to survive, emotionally, I distanced myself from my
>disability.  Mentally, I NEVER considered myself disabled.  No matter how
>many times the kids called me names, tripped or spat at me - their comments
>and cruelty slid right off.  I kept myself warm and safe in the knowledge, "I
>wasn't one of 'Them', a cripple."
>
>It's amazing how the human psyche can rationalize and justify any situation.
>I think of it as a survival skill.  Personally, I was not able to accept my
>disablity because I was always given the message, verbally and through
>action, "Being different is bad.  Being disabled is worse."
>
>Perhaps if I'd had some support at home, I would not have buried myself so
>deep in denial.  My mother was, I've come to believe not unwilling, but
>unable to cope with life.  I share the following from my own life not to
>illicit sympathy, but to further your understanding of my personal situation.
> My father abandoned us when I was very young.  My mother wasn't yet 27, had
>3 small children, and one (me) was disabled.  She had no job skills, but got
>a grant and went to college while working 3 menial jobs.  We lived below the
>poverty level, often without heat in winter, and many times without a decent
>meal.  In fact, mom had even resorted to checking the dumpsters behind the
>grocery store because they often threw away food which was still good.
>She also was very violent and beat me on a regular basis.  With all of this
>in mind, I'd like to quote a few paragraphs from an autobigography I've been
>working on.  Again, none of this is being told for any reason, other than to
>answer Perk's question.
>
>Excerpt from, "Be A Little Solider."  The beatings didn't leave many
>permanent physical scars, but my mother crossed a line which finally pushed
>me to the breaking point.  She uttered words which disfigured my identity.
>There would be no justification or rationalization for this heinous betrayal.
> My mother broke the code of silence between a disabled child and parent.  In
>the midst of a routine assault over something ridiculous, my mother became a
>shrieking maniac.  Her face twisted around eyes glazed over with
>unadulterated disgust and loathing.  I felt the spittle hit my face.  It
>emphasized each word as it echoed throughout our empty house, "You make me
>SICK!  It makes my stomach turn to watch you walk."
>
>All the physical assaults, emotional traumas, and pain I'd battled during my
>young life didn't prepare me for those traitorous words.  I was left in
>ruins.  A state of total
>devastation.  I'd been living in denial, but I could no longer hide from my
>greatest fear.  I was one of "THEM."  A monstrous mutation, imperfect,
>disabled.  Was it any wonder the other children hated me?  How could I expect
>love or friendship if my flesh and blood mother was physically sickened by
>the sight of me?
>
>I truly believed I'd been functioning without feeling, but I was wrong.  Once
>teetering on the edge of nothingness, these words pushed me into a frigid
>abyss.  Ironically, I did experience powerful emotions seconds before a
>protective glacial barricade crystallized inside me cutting off any and all
>emotion.  The last feelings to touch me were inspired by the words my mother
>screamed in my face.  I felt repulsive, ashamed, grotesque, sub-human, and
>then ... blissful nonexistence.  Denise had disappeared." <end of excerpt>
>This might not completely or satisfactorily answer your question Perk.  My
>hope is that by giving you a glimpse into why I distanced myself from the raw
>reality that I was disabled, you can see that it is not only plausible, but
>logical to believe someone can look in the mirror yet never see their true
>reflection.  Take Care and Be Well:  Denise
>