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.
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.
Staring in the mirror,
A never ending war,
Another day to settle,
On the reflection,
Staring back at me.
Scars on my back, stomach, and side,
Evidence of my pressure sore, and trache also,
“My battle wounds,”
Of my Medical War,
As they still are so evident.
The Squishy, poor posture,
That prevents me,
From feeling beautiful,
And having that “model look”
In crop tops and bikinis;
Physical differences rearing their ugly faces,
Evident and tormenting me.
I punch the reflection, then yell,
Holding my hand now,
I sit back and think,
Back on my life,
And suddenly smile.
All the wonderful people in my life,
Some I wouldn’t have met,
If I had not had,
The bad physical disability that I had.
The lives I’ve touched,
The people I’ve inspired,
How I gave others hope,
Why can’t I do that for myself?
I suck down the “poor Pitiful me” party,
And break another smile,
I am thankful for everyone in my life,
Because even though,
I am not “normal,”
They are in my life,
Love me, and make my life,
Which would otherwise be lonely, cloudy, and grey,
Shine with a beauty bright.
What is normal?
Is there an exact definition?
What does it look like?
Is it defined as:
Someone who looks like you?
But how can that be,
When everyone is designed differently?
Does it have a common religion?
Or language speak?
Once again, how is that a possibility?
When each person varies,
In faith and speech?
Maybe, perhaps, it is someone who behaves as you?
Once again, this cannot be,
The way they present themselves,
And act publicly,
Could be to show off,
Or due to some disability.
So, I ask this question repeatedly,
What is normal?
The word does not exist,
Except by segregationists
Do you wish to segregate?
And insinuate hate?
No? Then hear my plea,
Let’s erase this word,
From every persons’ mouth,
Erase it from the world’s vocabulary.
What is normal?
What is the difference
of people who are handicapped and special needs
are they not all people too?
why must we be judged by our appearances, and
making us feel alone in the world.
why do we constantly put stress on each other, and
why cant we all just get along?
what is the difference?
don’t we all have souls, arms, and legs?
whats the difference?
just because we look different,
doesn’t mean we are a different species, mutants or freaks of nature.
What is the difference?
Look into my eyes,
can you see my soul?
the dream I hold inside;
Longing to be accepted,
for everything I am,
All I Believe and hold dear,
and no longer have this burder,
the side of me that I hide,
Longing for release and freedom,
and my dreams to take flight.
The girl longing to break free,
feelings of not good enough,
inadequacy, and self-consciousness,
scared and shy,
to take the stage,
and follow her heart.
Dreams of being able,
to sing from her heart and soul,
and to dance with the passion that burns inside,
To feel beautiful,
to see her beauty,
and all that she is,
except in her own eyes,
To stand there, in the mirror,
and finally, see her personality,
the raw beauty inside,
I had my go fund me page since Jan or Feb. people have been generous and I thank them (especially the author of “Wonder” who generously donated $1000.) However, I share it constantly on all my social media platforms and a few people share it, but today made me so sick to my stomach.
I shared it a group on for people with similar disabilities and one of the members felt it was her responsibility to “set me straight.” – Evidence down below: Sally Hockman is a snooty and rude individual. She doesn’t know my story. She doesn’t know what I deal with on a daily basis. “Many people have broken beg for money,” but do these people happen to have great health insurance or doctors who take no matter the state? ….some people aren’t lucky!