humanity
Humanity begins at home.
The Zig Zag # 2
Ahh, good morning. It’s 6:30 a.m., and I am at the airport. My flight doesn’t take off until 8:15. I hate that. Although arriving for a flight two hours early is a bit much, in my opinion, the extra time in the airport presents possibilities.
By Kathleen Majorsky5 years ago in Families
Perfectly Horrible & Unspectacular
I wrote my mom’s eulogy before she died. Well, technically, she was brain dead, and I sat on the hospital bed next to her and penned what I thought were the appropriate things to say about a dying woman. She heaved her breaths — no pitter patter — more like a see-saw with cinder blocks tied to each end. Or like two men in the Pacific Northwest in the 1800s, sawing down the mighty sequoia at a pace not unlike the amount of time it took for the tree to grow. And I sat beside the heavy, small woman and wrote on my phone’s note taking app about science projects, real estate, and how her favorite saying was that she was “sparkling,” in reference to her mood. I cried with guilt that evening, as if I sealed her fate for her; The eulogy is written, no turning back. Even though she was already brain dead.
By Kaitlin Oster5 years ago in Families
55 Years of Feeling Different
Sometimes in life, we get our answers thru our children. Sometimes it's not us that figures it all out. The description of high functioning carries so much with it for the individuals whose lives are defined by that reality. I have two kids, both extremely intelligent but both way different from the norm, in many ways that are good. After a lifetime of struggling and being labeled in many unkind ways for myself, a group of licensed professionals figured out my child. Everything made sense at that point about both my children, and myself. After all the hurtful comments and degrading things I have been called during my 55 years of not exactly fitting in, I am beyond grateful that my child is kindly referred to as high functioning. Kindness for being different, that is brand new concept for me after living over half a century experiencing everything but that. As we as a family dive into the world of "neurodiversity", we are learning so much. We are actually getting everyone in our family evaluated for autism. It is truly profound to finally find the piece of the puzzle that makes everything make sense. I pray my child has a different experience in life than I did starting out. I pray for my compassion and understanding for anyone different. I have not been formally diagnosed with autism myself but I have 55 years of being a unique individual that support that diagnosis, and am pursuing formal evaluation. I want to know. However, just being able to accept myself as being who I am, and no longer trying to be "normal" is such a huge relief. Somehow the diagnosis of my child gave me permission to quit trying to be normal myself. It is okay to be different. I give my child permission to never be like everyone else. More profoundly, I forgive myself for never being like everyone else. I am now excited to go forth in life and just be me. Being like I am has been very isolating. I may always be in my own little world and truthfully, no one may ever embrace my love for dogs, polymer clay, turtles and washing machines....but I have hope that things will be different and better now that there is understanding as to why we just don't think or act exactly like the norm. I wrote this poem on the day that I got my child's autism diagnosis. The diagnosis was given to me by a group of highly educated, extremely kind, and overwhelming positive individuals. Later that same day, someone very close to me referred to one of my children as the R word...."retard". I was emotionally destroyed at that point. That day was so emotionally draining the way I dealt with it was to write this poem. I write to get it all out and say what I needed to say. When I wrote this poem I was overwhelming crushed and hurt but I knew that the future would be more kind and understanding. This is what it feels like to be me.
By Ashli D Wells5 years ago in Families
A Lesson in Failing
by: E.B. Johnson For the last 4 years, I’ve been doing a lot of heavy lifting behind the scenes to work through my own history of dysfunction and trauma. From therapy to self-awakening, I’ve re-routed the entire course of my life in a number of years. Not from a desire to be anything or anyone, really. But simply from a desire to survive without the agony of being haunted by a past I couldn’t control.
By E.B. Johnson 5 years ago in Families
A Thread of Legacy
Cloth has a “feel” to it. It has warp and weft, the weave that gives it heft and weight and texture. Aah – texture. I love texture. Is it smooth and silky? Is it coarse and rough? Every fabric has its own story to unfold, to become a garment, or a quilt, or a baby blanket.
By Ruth Sieber5 years ago in Families
A Lineage of Lighthouses
In my life I have come to understand the many depths of a mother's love for a daughter. Sometimes it's about looking in a mirror and trying to shape a better future, it can also be an act of guidance through a right of passage. At it's very best, a mother's love is the sanctuary for a special part of you to be exactly what it needs to be in a complete state of vulnerability.
By Maria Maung 5 years ago in Families
My Gemini
Before I met him, I fell in Love with him. I knew this life coming into this world was not only going to change my life, but the future lives of every person he is destined to meet. This little person, the young boy, the grown man he will become. The impact he will leave will be out of this world just like the astrological sign he was meant to be, the third in the universe, a Gemini.
By Angela Yvonne Edwards5 years ago in Families
A Family Tradition
My grandma once told me that I take after grandpa’s mom, always sewing and quilting. But I know that I got my interest of sewing as a little girl, watching her sew. She once made my hand-me-down dress from my sister longer by adding a ruffle, that was magic to little me! When I was older and would visit she would always take me upstairs into her sewing room and show me fabric she had, or things she had made. Sometimes she would just show me the amazing antique sewing gadgets she had. She taught me how to hide my knots when hand quilting. I would spend time with her as a little girl during the summer, and always slept under an old homemade quilt. They all fascinated me, the colors and shapes, and the way the little scraps came together to make something beautiful. So, from her, my love of quilts was born. I’d have to say I take after her.
By Nicole Burns5 years ago in Families
BOSS MOM
This is the story of my mother in summary form. I hope that by reading this you can understand the importance of her in my life. There are a few things that you need to now about the life that my mother lived. Her name was Donna Lea Collins and she was my mother. My mothers father died when she was 15 from a farm accident and her mother died when she was 16 of cancer. We had a lot of death due to cancer my entire life. My mother watched as she lost her brother and many more be taken by cancer. But somehow, she would pull it together with each tragedy and taught us perseverance through her actions and her words. When I was young, she managed the house, the bills and raising my sister and myself while my father worked. She took jobs here and there to help try to bring in some money because we were extremely poor. Of course, she made sure we never knew it at the time because she would not let her life stressors show to us. I was about 12 when my father became ill and he could not work anymore, so my mother got a full-time job and became the only one working. She still would manage the house, bills, us and took care of my father for eight years until he died and go to work. But she did so much more than that which you will come to see. My mother did it all by herself because she did not have parents or grandparents to help her with babysitting or advice. We were taught that your path in life is a difficult one, but will need to set goals and reach them, then set new goals. Do not stop because something seems unreachable, or too difficult, because everything is reachable. When I was 22 my mother found out she had the same cancer that her mother died from, ovarian cancer. She was 42 and fought a strong fight for three years until she lost the battle at age 45. You asked to write about the lessons that our mothers taught us, well there were many in those 25 years until I had to say goodbye. Almost like she knew she only had 25 years to teach a lifetime of lessons, to influence and shape my life for many years to come. My son was born with Velo-Cardio-Facial Syndrome and what she taught helped me cope with many stressors and how to exist with those stressors. We almost lost my son a few times and her strength gave me strength.
By Buffie Peterson (Angelsoulbp)5 years ago in Families
