Day 6

I am glazed-tired.  So I'll keep this one short :).  Today was better than yesterday, not as good as Saturday.  Pain levels were low.  Except for the dull headache that never quite went away.  I wrote a lot for our Fairy Craft book proposal.  That felt great.  And posted photos of our fall crafts.  Played with Ian.  Last-minute teacher meetings.  Grocery shopping.  Homework and bath and stories.  The usual good stuff. Today the CMT ocean was a mist.  Foggy at times.  But I kept it from getting too heavy with coffee and Pepsi.  Very holistic, I know.  But I'm into short-term fixes right now.  As Ian gets older, maybe I can be more thoughtful :).

Speaking of thoughtful, I have an observation.  I've been watching Angel after the kids go to bed.  I love supernatural shows, and I miss the humor and spark of the Buffy and Angel series.  I watched Buffy in the 1990s, but then I moved, and was teaching, and didn't have a VCR to record shows and I never saw Angel.  Now I have Netflix, hurrah!  Streaming television.

So I could make a case about vampirism as a disability metaphor (I have before :)).  But I'm not going there today.  Not how a (good) vampire is essentially at odds with an inner, uncontrollable force.  No, something else resonated with me in the storyline.  What caught my attention was his hope.  And defeat.  In the series, he has moments where he gets to stand in sunshine, or see his reflection, and we see such a sense of relief and belonging.  At last the demon is controlled.  At last he has his future back.

And then the trigger.  The moment when all the mess crashes into him again and he's left shaking and defeated and ruined.  The story hinges on a classic man vs. other conflict, except, in this case, the other is inside him (the demon).  Which will win?  Which is stronger?

And I feel we, in the disability community, get cast in these terms sometimes.  In the pressure to overcome our limitations, in the 'inspiration' of our stories, we find ourselves battling our symptoms.  Sometimes, I feel like we are pitted against our own disabilities.  We are rewarded for showing that we will not be 'held back' or 'changed.'  We try so hard to be normal.

We have such hope.  Like I had on Saturday.  See, I can control this.  I can make the choices to make myself better.  I am stronger.

And, for me, at least, it never lasts.

The hope is followed by defeat.  Feeling small.  Frustrated.  Struggling.

If only there was a way to make peace with the 'demon'.  To share this journey.  If only we could find the twilight, where no one gets burned.

A worthy adventure :)