Do You Realize?

Do you realize – that you have the most beautiful face
Do you realize – we're floating in space
Do you realize – that happiness makes you cry
Do you realize – that everyone you know someday will die
And instead of saying all of your goodbyes – let them know
You realize that life goes fast
It's hard to make the good things last
You realize the sun doesn't go down
It’s just an illusion caused by the world spinning round
-The Flaming Lips, “Do You Realize”

I know I haven’t posted anything in a long, long time. I have wanted to, but I just can’t find the right words.

I feel like I have been going through a sort of mini-“midlife crisis”. I put those words in quotes because that’s typically something that happens to people when they are much older. I think I have mentioned before, though, that at times, I feel much older than I actually am. It is as if the accident added several extra years onto my life. That period when I was in the hospital and afterwards at home really wasn’t that long, but it was a time when everything in my life seemed completely out of my control. So it feels like forever. It’s as if I fell asleep, went into a coma, and woke up years and years later.

Isn’t it interesting how two people can read the same thing, watch the same movie, or experience the same event and one may be profoundly affected by it while the other gets nothing out of it? Since I was a child, I’ve been fascinated by that.

I am not sure how to describe the many things that I have been thinking about and that leave me entranced. At times, some things I have contemplated have even left me deeply saddened. Other times, it makes me want to make some serious changes—changes in the way I live my life, changes in the way I interact with others, changes in the things I say or I do, and more. Probably the big overarching theme of everything I have been thinking about is time.

A combination of things made me start thinking about these things, including illnesses befallen upon those close to me, questions from a new friend regarding my disability, decisions on what I want to do in my future, patients I’ve met in the hospital, and even movies/television shows I have seen that just happen to strike a chord in me.

What are you doing right now? Are you happy?

Are you surrounding yourself with people that make you happy? Really?

You don’t want to wake up some years from now when you are having a real midlife crisis and ask yourself what you’ve done with your life, why you have that job, if it was worth it working so hard and neglecting your happiness and friendships when you had time, why you’re with that person, why you didn’t appreciate your parents when you had the opportunity—why you made every decision in your life. What will you do when the people closest to you have gone? What do you think they would say to you if they had just one last thing to say? Even more important, what would you tell yourself or other people if you had just one last thing to say?

You don’t want to be lying in a bed, thinking about how in order to get up and do what you want, you’re going to have to transfer on to a wheelchair, and be asking yourself, “Is this it? Is this my future? I can never get back those years I had running and playing? I can never go back? There’s no reset button?”

Value time. Each moment that goes by is a moment that can never be re-experienced. Every negative thing that we bring upon ourselves by the choices we make or the things we say is an insult upon what we have. Every minute you are doing something that doesn’t make you happy is a minute that can never be changed.

Here, try this: stop reading this and just stare at the clock for five minutes. Do it. Come on. It’s just five minutes. Then finish reading the post.

Didn’t that feel like forever? That’s five minutes you could have spent doing other things, but now you will never get back. If you actually did this, I apologize for asking you to do it. It was just to make a point. In the words of Mark Zimmerman, “Killing time is a subtle form of suicide.”

Thank you.

There have been a few things that I have wanted to mention for a long time but have not done so yet.

I would like to say thank you. I cannot begin to express my gratitude and appreciation for my family, friends, and people I don't even know who have been there for me.

I am very bad when it comes to reacting to kind words and support. When someone says something nice to me, I get awkward and say thank you and I may tell them how much it means to me. But I feel like that does not express how I feel. I really appreciate the nice things people say to me in real life or in comments. I am 110% undeserving of such kindness and compliments. These are all so incredibly encouraging and they mean so much to me. Each and every message, each and every word, each and every smile that I receive touches me in a unique way. I do not know what I do or have done to deserve such benevolence.

I also want to mention the purpose of my writings. This blog was simply started because I had written something for another web site that did not really take off, and I wanted a place to put what I had written. I had a friend help me edit the piece (which you can read here) and I was never a good writer, so I was actually pretty happy at how "official" something I had written turned out. After the first couple posts, people told me they liked it and wanted me to keep writing. I never thought people would actually be interested in the stupid stuff that goes through my mind.

For myself, this was and is very therapeutic. Writing out one's thoughts is like taking a look at things from a third person point of view. In addition, writing and the feedback and encouragement I receive has played a large part in my mental/emotional growth and progression.

So, once again, I want to say thank you. Thank you for being here for me. Thank you for reading. Thank you for giving me encouragement. You may never realize the real effect you have on me. But it's possible that I may not be where I am today if it was not for you. I love you.

Help!

[Once again, I apologize for not posting in a long time. Things with school and at home have been quite busy, as some of you know.]

I was listening to NPR on my way back to my apartment a few weeks ago. The host was interviewing someone who was talking about her disability.

The young woman being interviewed had some sort of progressive nervous system disorder, perhaps multiple sclerosis. The woman was married and seemed to be in her thirties. She described different scenarios caused by her disability, such as how there were times that she was so weak, her husband had to literally drag her up the stairs to bed.

Then she got on the topic of asking for help. She said how it was so embarrassing—so disheartening—to have to ask someone for some assistance. She did not like it at all when she had to ask for help or when someone asked if she needed help. Getting help from someone else was a crutch, in both the literal and figurative sense. She described it as something that breaks her spirit. She seemed to be speaking on behalf of people with disabilities, and she contended that having to rely on someone else to help you with something you previously were able to do was something that would destroy your morale. Your strength. Your character.

I have heard about people in wheelchairs not liking it when they are offered help. I mean, we can do things. Some find it offensive that others think we are unable to do simple things like get into a car or open doors on our own.

I can see why other people with disabilities are upset about this, but I don’t really agree with it.

I actually really appreciate it when people ask me if I need help with something. If someone who doesn't know me walks by without offering help while I am putting my chair into my car, I am kind of surprised. I almost always kindly smile and kindly decline help anyways, but I do appreciate offers. It continues to show me how there are so many kind-hearted people in this world. I made previous posts about these sort of actions here and here.

I was telling a friend the other day how seeing a guy in a wheelchair brings out the hometown hero in people. Even the roughest guys who look like they would attack you if you looked at them the wrong way turn into Southern gentleman as they open doors and ask me how I am doing.

Do I get offended when people offer to do things for me? Am I ashamed to ask people for help?

In short: no.

Admittedly, it was hard for me to ask people for things at first. Even now, I do not really ask people for everyday things. I mean, I get by pretty well living on my own.

But sometimes I do not hesitate to ask strangers or friends for help. In fact, I actually enjoy it. Let me explain myself before you think I crave power and like watching other people do things for me.

I’m sure most people have felt pleasure and an increase in their own self worth when they go out of their way to help others. Even people who don’t normally like doing thing for others feel a sense of accomplishment as they subconsciously tell themselves that they used their “precious time” to help someone “inferior” or “unworthy” of their time.

So I let people help me. If I am about to do something and someone offers to help me, I usually smile and decline, but I sometimes smile and show my utmost appreciation. I want people to walk away feeling like they did something positive that day.

Many times it seems like we decline help or refuse to ask for help because our own ego gets in the way. “No, I got it. I can do this on my own.” How many times have we said that? I know I say it all the time. But perhaps we need to spread some love and some good feelings around and let people help us. We shouldn't take advantage of anyone, but we need to let people know that they can help people; that they have something—some talent, strength, piece of knowledge, or connection—that we do not have.

Let others know that they are worth it, that they can do some things better, faster or more efficiently than us, and that sometimes we need them.

They need that, too.

[This just touched the tip of what I have really been thinking about lately. A second installment will come soon.]

Save the internet! Save blogs--like this one!

This week Congress is debating whether to grant themselves the power to turn off parts of the Internet. Fun sites you YouTube. Informative sites like Wikipedia. Political sites like MoveOn.org.

If enacted, new laws would force Internet Service Providers to block websites that any corporation suspects violates a copyright or suspects doesn't monitor it's users' content close enough for copyrighted materials. That means that any website, foreign or based in the U.S., could be wiped out on suspicion and made unavailable to everyone in the world.

This week there will be a historic filibuster of the Internet Censorship Act where the names of every person that signs a petition against Internet censorship will be read. I added my name. Please add yours too.

http://pol.moveon.org/nointernetcensorship/?r_by=-20313562-DNvzmnx&rc=nointernetcensorship.confemail.g1

Gwinnett Daily Post article on me

I made it to the front page of the Gwinnett Daily Post. Woohoo!

Click here to read the article.

Edit #1: Oh, cool! I also made it to the Muslim Heroes site. Click here for that.

Edit #2: I'm also on the CAIR Oklahoma Facebook page.

Edit #3: Big thank you to everyone I know and don't know who reshared this article. I appreciate all the support very much.

Bedroom

[I wrote this post over a month ago when I went home for Thanksgiving break. I didn't post it because I thought it was kind of dumb. It's ironic how the post starts off.]

I’ve mentioned before how I sometimes start posts but don’t finish them. I was looking at some of the file names of these unfinished posts and I noticed how one of them was about my bedroom. I had started that post when I was supposed to be studying for an exam. Sick and tired of being cooped up in my apartment and staring at medical texts, all I could think about at the time was being at home in my old bedroom.

I received a text message from my mom a few weeks ago asking me if she could throw away some of the CDs and DVDs that were in my room. I hated when my parents or sisters take something or throw away things from my room.

When I refer to “my room” I mean my room. Not the room I sleep in now on the main floor whenever I go home. That used to be the guest room and the only new things added in there that I use are a desk and a pull-up bar.

My room is directly above the room that I use now. It used to be my sanctuary. Big stereo, big bed, posters all over the walls, green tie-dye sheets, big desk with a leather executive chair, little trinkets and memorabilia collected over the years scattered on my dresser and all over my room, books, magazines, DVD's, and CD's in a corner—those are the things that made it mine.

I was watching an episode of Dexter the other day and the main character was having trouble coming to terms with the idea that he may have to give up his apartment. His apartment was his private place of bliss where he could keep everyone at a distance and just be alone with his thoughts and secrets. “Everybody needs privacy, some more than others. That's why god created golf,” another character tells him.

That’s how I felt about my room. I loved staying up late after everyone had gone to sleep and watching movies, listening to music, reading, or just lying in bed. That’s how I recharged myself and how I collected myself when I wasn’t busy socializing or doing productive things.

Whenever I used to do “visualization” exercises suggested to me by different people, I always pictured myself walking up the stairs, going into my room, and diving under my covers on my bed. I’ve only been up to my room about three times in the past two and a half years.

When I went home a few weeks ago, I asked my mom why I was having to choose what items to keep from the boxes of CD's, DVD's, electronics, and random stuff that were under my bed.

“Your youngest sister needs a room, too,” she said, “and we already use your brother’s room as a guest room.”

That hit me hard.

I was upset when I asked my parents for my stereo so I could take it to my apartment and I thought they had thrown it away (thankfully they were able to find it a few weeks later in the attic). It’s hard to see things I had in my room being used by others or put into the attic, because of the memories and attachments I associate with things. It sucks that I often dream of going up to my room but cannot do so and that I haven’t even seen it in over a year.

It looks like the goal I’ve had of one day walking up the stairs and going to my room by myself and lying on my bed will really never happen. That’s a tough reality to accept.

I’ll never feel at home in the former guest room that I sleep in on the main floor whenever I go back home; that’s not my room. I don’t really feel at home in my apartment in Athens because most of my time is spent in my study room. I know this sounds dumb to a lot of people, but this is important to me.

Stand tall

If you read my post from this past March, "Thanks, Doc", this photo is in response to that.

Hopefully this will open up more doors for me and make things easier.