There’s been a mutual decision between David Piazza and I after all of us discussing things over with Mom, to push the wedding back another year. So it’ll be may 2021.. we haven’t gotten much done as far as planning and in Catholics churches, need to let church priests know 6 months ahead of event.. That’d be next month, plus we’ll be moving into my parents’ house the beginning of 2020. Plus this way, I’ll be over a year post-op and better able to plan and enjoy it. Sorry for any disappointments but tis life ❤️❤️❤️🤷 we feel this will be better in long run.
My Mom used to say, that as a child, I had “a smile that was infectious and could brighten others days,” and I was an inspiration with how I handled my disability with a smile. However, over the years, between trying my best to fit in with society’s ideals/standards, trying to live up to what I was taught by my parents or CCD Religion classes, relationships with people I thought of as friends who turned out to be toxic (only to discover my true friends), relationships romantically, stress from struggles as a college student, and the struggles of living on and off with pain or other medical problems, I seem to have lost a sense of myself.
It’s like a constant battle between my heart, my brain, and the outside forces of voices from people around me. I am 28 and enjoy childish things like dolls, stuffed animals, playing games at the local fairs, I enjoy cartoons and childish movies, tea parties, parties, I get separation anxiety and sad when my friends have to leave; it is like I am still a child trapped in the biological fact that I am 28 and some people point it out and judge me and tell me, “You are 28, act your age.” But my question is, “Is it they are just jealous that I am trying to find joy in the things I have always enjoyed?” I am just trying to block out the darkness and cruelty of the world going on around me. It may make me ignorant, but I refuse to watch the news because it’s depressing and angers me, I rather “stick my head in the sand,” and tune it out, and leave it to God. When the world is so sad and depressing, who wouldn’t want to go back to the simpler times of innocence of childhood?
Don’t get me wrong, I still know some things I enjoy: Spending time with friends/family, parties, dancing, theater, crafts, creative writing, etc.; however, lately, I been really tired a lot and seem to stay in front of screen watching movies/tv or YouTube videos. It’s like I have no motivation or anything right now. I have wanted to do more blogging, more YouTube, more artistic and creative, but I just can’t get myself to actually do it, or how to put words out there.
Hopefully, I can rediscover myself again.
Last night, I was on my pain meds and as usual the drugs made me a sappy, hormonal, emotional wreck; especially when all they do is make me tired and don’t actually help my pain, and as tired as I am, I cannot get comfy enough to actually go to sleep- which causes me to become irritable, frustrated, and emotional. Warning: Below, is how I feel on those kinds of days. You’ve been warned.
Don’t get me wrong, I do absolutely love my fiance’ and most of the time I cannot absolutely at all fathom my life without him, but on my really bad pain days when I am cooped up in the house on pain meds and can’t stand my own life, I relate to Zendaya’s lyrics of the song.
He is so positive and confident about us, and I am like that girl (because of my age difference and looking like a kid, and my disability- the “mountains,” and “doors can’t walk through”) and what the world thinks. and just waiting for him to realize that it is hopeless and impossible for us to truly be happy together. I am always thinking “he didn’t sign on for all these issues: Me hurting all the time, me lashing out at him because I am hurting and frustrated; because I’m irritable.. How can I expect him to love me when I don’t even love myself?”
Maybe he’ll teach me a thing or two, or maybe if I have such idle time, pay attention to the negativity.
It’s a lot of self-esteem issues and idle time, pain meds causing depression, being bullied from a very young age (5 years old)- it’s hard to escape the “voices” of my past, but I am working hard on it because I do love him and I know he loves me.
So a lot of People have no issues with Disney movies or children’s programming promoting heterosexual “need a man/prince,” mentality, but as soon as something airs with homosexual relations, everyone that is crazy traditional religious is all up in arms and “grab your pitchforks and torches, burn the blasphemers.” It’s 2019 people, there should be no more homophobia, transphobia, disability-phobia, dwarf-phobia, racism, sexist ideas, or any of that stuff. The old testament was before Jesus’ time, the new testament was around Jesus teachings but actually written by “followers” of Jesus. Who knows, they could have thrown in their own views or maybe when it was translated from Hebrew or whatever language, something got “lost in translation.” I mean, think about it, Jesus hung out with the sinners, prostitutes, the “scum of the scum,” as people viewed them. He taught love and acceptance. Not trying to change their ways by saying “You’re GOING TO HELL!” he did it through love, he made them want to turn from their sins, not try to force it.
Today there was an article on WAFB Channel 9 about a My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Episode that featured the character, Scootaloo, being looked after by her same-sex couple aunts; Aunt Holiday and Aunt Lofty. First, it was Arthur about Mr. Ratburn and a gay wedding, and now this. People were all pissed about both “It isn’t appropriate for children,” “Protect our children,” “Satan’s agenda,” blah blah blah.
I may have been brought up Catholic all my life, and I still love my religion, faith, and God almighty, but the organization has its own faults ..*Cough* *Cough* Pedo Priests getting frisky with the altar boys or whatever. We are all human, we all have faults, we all sin.
But the media are doing things like this to try to be relatable and give representation to minorities and their families: Homosexuals(The child or the parents), bi-racial (parents or child), single-parent households, being raised by someone other than parents (Grandparents/uncles/aunts/cousins, adopted, orphaned, fostered, etc.), transsexuals (parents or child), those with disabilities. With more representation and showing that these people aren’t weirdos or “freaks,” and that they are just like everyone else and shouldn’t be targeted, harassed, bullied, etc. over stuff they can’t control.
Since a lot of parents tend to shove their ideas and beliefs down their children’s throats, and not teach their kids to not be little assholes, its up to society to also push in some compassion and empathy because there are many walks of life and no one should be bullied to the point of trauma, depression, homicide, or suicide.
Yesterday, Mom called me and told me that “If I want to go say my final goodbyes to Mommie, I might want to go as soon as I could.” David and I had plans already, but I had an emotional breakdown while at our plans, so we dropped everything and went to see Mommie. She was sedated on morphine, every so often it seemed like her chest would ‘jump’ as if struggling to breathe, her eyes were closed, but they told me she could hear me. I told her “I love you, Mommie. Dad, Mom, Jared, and I love you. David, my fiance loves you.” There were other people in the room, so I just held her hand and thought the other things I wanted to tell her, hoping she could feel them telepathically. As I talked to her and said my silent prayers, holding her hand, she squeezed mine a little bit once or twice. David and I also visited with my aunts in the room about family things to kind of ease the tension a little bit. Mom texted me this morning and told me, Mommie had passed away this morning. Mom and my aunt seem to think, maybe she was holding on for me. maybe she was. I don’t know.
After I found out about her death though, I was inspired to write something up; I may share it at the funeral, I may not. I will try, but I may breakdown half-way through it. Only one way to know for sure: Do it in fear. Fortitude! Only for you, Mommie. Love you.
We are here to remember the life of Ruby “Mommie” Cormier; Sister, Mother, Grandmother, great-grandmother, friend, and child of God. We are also here to remember the love we all shared for her and the fond memories we shared with her: those good memories are what will get us through this tough period as we say our final goodbyes to her Earthly form, but it is only a temporary goodbye; we all hope and pray to see her again when we leave this Earthly life.
My earliest memories of Mommie was about 2 or 3 years old, going almost every weekend when they lived in Lewisburg, Louisiana; she always had a Sippy cup of coffee milk waiting for me, and when Poppee would call me the pet name “Sack of Shit,” (which question, how is that a pet name; but go figure with those Cormiers) Mommie would always argue, “No poppee, she is a sack of sugar.”
I remember her and my nanny (Martha) accompanying us a few times to Shreveport when I was at Shriners Hospital for dr. appointments. When she moved to the apartments in Lafayette, I remember walking with her to the mailbox and along the way, she would “show me off,” to her neighbors and be all “This is my youngest granddaughter. She’s my baby.” She would brag to anyone who would listen about that time when I was just an infant, “I couldn’t hold my bottle with my arms, so I held them with my feet.” As I got older, I got so “sick” of hearing that story and a little embarrassed when she would tell it to my friends, but I also knew that she was proud of me and had a deep love for me.
Mommie enjoyed many things: going to church, going to a rosary, doing bingo, going to the casino- for her 80th birthday, Mom even made her a cake that looked like a slot machine! She also loved her coffee and beignets. She sure enjoyed when we would take her to coffee depot in Scott, Louisiana for beignets and coffee; That was one of her “elements,” Coffee, beignets, and socializing with family and the waitresses at the restaurant who happened to know the family.
In 2012, when in St. Louis for Halo Traction, she came to spend a week with me. The first night she got turned around and I ended up having to walk her downstairs, to the parent housing side of the hospital. The whole walk she kept apologizing, but I was all “Mommie, it’s okay. The hospital is pretty confusing. I just learned it because I been here for almost 3 months.”
During 2016, when Trump was running election, which she was all “go trump,” and don’t get me wrong, I am not anti-Trump, I may not agree with everything he does but he is human, but anyway, we were talking and she must’ve just remembered Poppee’s last few good years because I heard stories in his younger days, he wasn’t that great of a person, but Mommee was all “If Poppee was still alive, he’d make a good president.” I swear, I nearly choked on my drink and did a spit-take when she said that. I think that was my first clue that she was starting to get dementia a little bit. But it was kind of good that she only remembered the good side of him too. She didn’t hold onto anger and hurt from the bad years. Or maybe she just forgave him, I don’t know. If it was just her forgiveness of all the hurt he had caused her in the past, then that is proof of the good person she was and I am almost definite she got her angel wings.
She also took in others besides her family; she took in Mom’s family- we often took her to family get-togethers at Moms family- she loved all the little kids and would love on them. She took in my friends as if her own grandkids and when they called her, “Mrs. Cormier,” she would correct them “No, it’s Mommie.” She would sit and have coffee with neighbors at her apartment complex, even those that had slight mental disabilities (one guy in particular, which I cannot remember his name at the moment.) She was also a huge animal lover, as proof of her playing with my dogs when she would come to visit, and she loved her cat, Socks; until Mommie had to go into the nursing home and we had to re-home Socks. She even took in my (now ex-boyfriend) when we were dating, and she even accepted my now-fiance’ David, who she loved to give lots of kisses on the cheek to, and he loved them back. She was a very sweet, loving lady, but boy if you got on her “shit list,” look out, she stood her ground. I guess that’s where I got that from! HAHA!
She was just an overall loving person and genuinely very happy until dementia started in and it affected her mood and perspective at times, but before dementia, she was a great model of what we should strive to live our lives as.
Sure, I had plans for her to be at future events: when I got married, got my bachelors/masters/ or whatever other college degrees, see me start my own career and chase my dreams, possibly see me have a family of my own; but sadly, life is never promised to pan out how we want, and sure, I will miss her being in attendance physically at these major events, but she will always be there in spirit and in my heart.
Bright side is I now have another angel, looking out for me. Love you, Mommie.
A bad storm passed through Louisiana this week so it has been quite a bit of sleepless nights for me lately and then add in the dreaded once a month bullshit us females have to deal with, adding in stress, anxiety, hormones, emotional roller coaster, all that (sarcastic tone) “fun.” Tonight, I tossed and turned for 2 hours while my fiance’ just lays next to me snoring; sure, I could wake him up and make him suffer with me, but that is selfish plus he works to provide for us, so I guess he needs the sleep more than I do, but it sure would be nice to be able to talk these things out instead of blogging them.
I have a mattress that can elevate the head, it helps with migraines and sometimes my upper back (then I gotta deal with my lower back and hips hurting), but tonight my upper back is hurting and I am not even gonna use the head-elevation because lately it has been making my fiance’ back hurt in the morning; which sent me down the dreaded “rabbit hole” of the uncertainty of a future together: What if I become bed-ridden, what if he has to help me with everything more than he does now? That isn’t what he signed on for! It isn’t fair to him. I know he made a commitment to me and he constantly reminds me of it anytime I start crying and freaking out about how much pain I am in and the fears that sends into me about how uncertain my life and future are; I just don’t want him to have regrets or resentments. I love him, I really do, but when these fears kick in, I go into flight mode and tend to push him away, thinking I am saving him from being stuck in a sucky future with me and my damn disability. How can I expect him to accept it and what it does to me, if I cant even accept it completely myself?
If there was a pill created to make me “normal,” like everyone else in society, I would take it! Even though I also feel like having my disability has made me a well-rounded, wise, empathetic, compassionate, supportive, loyal, passionate person. Does it make me a bad person? Why is it I can be a support system and cheerleader for others with disabilities but yet I cant even accept myself completely? Does it make me a hypocrite? Maybe its just the pain talking; well the pain and the damn devil. I need to really work on myself and loving myself for me; whole-y and completely. Maybe after my surgery to fix my rods, maybe my pain will be better, and I can start being happy again. One can only hope.
For as long as I can remember, shopping always was stressful and a meltdown for me. As a girl, I loved the idea of new clothes and shoes, but a lot of times, the stuff I like a lot, don’t fit the way I like or at all, and I end up having to compromise on an item I wasn’t as crazy about but fit better.
As a female, especially around the teen years, you would probably be shocked to know that I did not enjoy shopping. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I loved getting new clothes, but when you are a preteen/teenager, who is the only one her age still shopping in children’s department, it gets to be a little flustering.
It wasn’t just the fact that I wasn’t in the “correct” size clothing/ department for my age, it was also the trying on process. I’d grab tons of styles I thought were “cool” and “normal teen girl” fashions that were in children’s size department, but half of the time, maybe only 1 thing I had brought into the fitting room, actually fit and looked good on me, due to my posture and body due to the curve of my Scoliosis/Kyphosis at the time.
If something I really liked/picked out, didn’t fit, my whole world would shatter. I’d lose the joy of shopping for new clothes and have a tantrum in the store; having a “pity-party” and just give up looking, saying I wanted to go home. Thank God, Mom never gave into that, or I’d have gotten nothing. She would pull me aside, and we’d settle on whatever did fit, even if I wasn’t as crazy about that choice, as I was for the thing that I picked out, but didn’t fit. I wasn’t 100% happy about the choices during that time, but it was about 70%, so it was a compromise.
Another thing that was a pain to shop for was shoes! Due to my Ehler’s Danlos Syndrome, I have weak ankles, so I could never wear heels for dress shoes, only flats; but also, I had to have “high Top” sneakers for ankle support. Do you know how hard it is to find “high top” sneakers nowadays? If we got them the same day we went looking for them, we were lucky, after having to search several shoe stores of course. I remember one time, we searched all over Lafayette and Opelousas for high top sneakers and ended up having to wait because we couldn’t find any, thankfully my old ones weren’t so tight that I couldn’t wear them anymore. Shoe shopping was another meltdown. For formal/special occasions, I loved to dress up, and I’d see these lovely heels, but, no, I couldn’t get them because of my weak ankles; I didn’t cry about that, because I knew “can’t wear them,” but I would say “Man, I wish I didn’t have weak ankles, Those heels are so pretty. I’d look so hot in them!” I always had to go with flats, usually, I got ballet slippers, which were easy to slip on and off, so I didn’t mind. The real struggle was for sneakers, because at the time Converse shoes were getting really popular and I wanted what everyone else got, or some really girly shoes; considering the only place we’d usually find high-tops were in boys/men/ or athletic shoes; Half the time, I was wearing boy shoes, and I got teased “Jamie’s wearing boy shoes, Jamie’s wearing boy shoes. She wants to be a boy.” When I couldn’t find shoes that I liked, that were also high tops, I’d have a meltdown like I would when clothes shopping; pitching a fit in the store, and giving up.
Eventually, I gave up trying to fit in, gave up trying to avoid the teasing, because it was something I couldn’t change. It wasn’t like anyone from school would see me in the clothes anyway since uniforms were mandatory. It was just the shoes they’d see, and I couldn’t help that I had to have ankle support, so anytime someone would start to tease me, I’d stop them and say “You know what? Yes, I am in boy’s shoes, but I have weak ankles and need the support for my feet. It’s something I cannot help, but you know what? I got a great personality and don’t deserve this teasing. I have people who love me, and I am going to start loving who I am and things that make me different. Yes, I will have bad days and feel bad about myself and my differences, but I will get over them; whereas you will always be an insecure jerk-off who teases others because you have nothing better to do with your sad pathetic life, so I suggest that you shut up and get a life,” and I’d walk away, or once I got in Jr high school and my “dynamite temper fuse” blew up, I’d start fighting, hitting, and kicking; but I always stood up for myself and never backed down. You know what they say, Dynamite comes in tiny packages, and I am a prime example of that phrase when it comes to people teasing me, teasing or discrimination against special needs individuals, or anyone giving my friends/family problems; I am there, ready to fight, take names, and kick butt. Dynamite Jamie! HAHA!
However, After my 2012 surgery, shopping had gotten a lot easier to find nice clothes that also fit great; but like all good things, it came to an end over the years, and now I have the answer of why: My spinal fusion rods are broken, and my Kyphosis started to get worse again- so that poor posture in my body was back, especially my hips/waist area making my belly protrude out like I am fat or something, when in fact, I am at the perfect weight for my size. Then almost all dresses are fitted nowadays in the waist area; So annoying!
Any other #disabled especially those with #physicalDisabilities have troubles with clothes shopping? Especially #girls #women? I have a wedding tomorrow and had to go to several goodwill shops before I found something not #fitted and #tight and actually looked good on me. Times likes these make me wanna make #clothesLines for people with #physicalDisabilities. But I’m not good at drawing. I have the ideas in my head, but when I try to put to paper, never looks right. Ugghhh.