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DISABILITY WEBLOGS

Near Death Delusional Chimera: "A Pattern Arises from Past and Present Events." PART I

..
The Present: Four years ago, I stepped out of my required science classes, geology, misnomered as "Rocks for Jocks" and walked into Harvard Square. It was a warm, late afternoon with dusk just starting to chase away the sun. Today, like then, the fall day was comfortable. I, however, was not. I was angry and highly irritable. Today was a bit different. I left the locked psychiatric ward where I was being treated for depression and anxiety. I was unaccompanied with permission from the staff due to an increase in my privileges for being a good mental patient. I had worked hard to regain my "privileges." Anywhere else in the United States, my civil rights would not be taken from me and referred to as privileges. Today though, I was a mental patient who despite public appearances had no rights. Four years ago, as I began to stroll, each step grew quicker and longer. There were others present in the Square, yet no one knew what was about to be unleashed. I couldn't contain my fury any longer. I felt driven by the force of my political belief, which bordered on profound and the human condition. Four years ago, I started a large riot. Today though I was incarcerated in a mental hospital. After making a very quick detour, I rode towards a gathering of other patients from the hospital in my electric wheelchair. As I approached them I lit up and joined both their nasty smoking habit as well as their conversation. For fifteen minutes or so, we took long drags of our cigarettes, blowing the smoke into the mild current of the breeze. At least you could smoke at this hospital, I thought to myself. Other hospitals wouldn't allow you to smoke, which is mostly what mental patients do to pass the time in liu of other activities. Most of these non-smoking hospitals didn't 'even give you the option of donning a nicotine patch for the sake of sanity. After awhile the group ran out of mundane topics to discuss causing the topic of discussion to turn towards childhood sexual abuse, the reason that most of us were in this shithole to begin with. Of course we all had different diagnoses, like bi-polar disorder, borderline personality disorder, or my personal favorite, psychotic. I found other patient's "psychotic" episodes to be very entertaining as cruel as that might sound. Suddenly one of the patient's psychotic episodes began to focus on childhood sexual abuse. For me, a survivor of horrific childhood sexual abuse this topic was politically charged. Discussing this topic threatened the core of my beings known to me as the crew. I couldn't bury my gargantuan emotions. I began to talk about my personal history as a "survivor" of this type of abuse. Little by little as the discussion went deeper and deeper; more people joined our group, which eventually became quite large. True to my form, I began a diatribe about people in our society who lived just outside the inner circle of acceptance. In this case, I stated that children because they were treated as property never had a chance of existing inside the inner circle. The discussion became very heated. People began to argue. Members of a growing crowd who were not deemed outcasts and did not belong to a peripheral group, became fearful when confronted by my river of fury. Just about everyone became fearful of my fury. After just a few minutes of the diatribe I had begun, some very frightened people began to leave, while those who stayed became very cautious for their own protection. Their fear emanated from my reputation as an outspoken rebel. They wanted to protect themselves just in case the "crazy disabled woman" and her rueful followers commenced an insurgence in the hospital courtyard. An insurgence just like the one that occurred four years ago. Curious bypassers joined the crowd, which grew quickly and steadily. I felt driven by something if not my strong political beliefs. I was filled with pain, anger and hatred--- a cocktail for disaster. The oncoming tirade rose like reflux, first from my gut, up into my esophagus and flooded my mouth. The taste was sour. My words, like history, were about to be repeated. I started to put on quite a show for onlookers. A few members of the growing crowd were also at the tirade four years ago, but most of the onlookers were new. For instance, my mother and my 3 year-old son Matthew had accompanied my father and brother Martin on their routine nightly visits to the hospital for the first time. Shockingly, however, my parents arrived significantly earlier than normal. I'll never know why they arrived early that day. I did wonder if someone saw where my anger was headed and had called them and urged them to come. Regardless of how or why their visit happened earlier than usual, they were there.Click here for more.

Circle of Darkness and Circle of Light.Near Death Delusional Chimera Part 11
INTEGRATION, AN OPTION?

THE HISTORY OF PSYCHIATRY February

NEAR DEATH DELUSIONAL CHIMERA

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Disability Web Blogs

Religion Ala Carte



Religion Ala Carte When you start talking about religion you should preface the conversation or discourse with a caveat. So here it goes, I am not a theologian, or even a good student of the Bible. My mother read the bible to me when I was small. She pointed things for me to remember so I would grow up a good Christian. I doubt very much that the Bible has undergone massive revisions, as if a screen play, since I was small. I am Catholic, or I should say, I was born into a Catholic household. I don't practice Catholicism. If you have to practice something, then you obviously don't know it well enough.. I don't flaunt my religion either. That is not right. In fact, that to me is "unbecoming a good Christian." You see I believe, and was taught, to not discuss what you do in the bathroom, what you do in the bedroom and with whom, and how you follow your religion. We Catholics feel a sense of superiority to other so-called 'Christian religions.' We truly belief we are the true followers of Jesus Chris. Unlike those other Johnny come lately Christians. We know Jesus was not Catholic. He was a Jewish Rabbi, if true need be told. And that's great! The protestant revolution, as you know-the rebellion that Martin Luther (and others) lead against the Catholic establishment, was not exactly God blessed. It was an economic upheaval more than a religious one. Hence forth, there were "protestants." Why the mere appellations defines what they are, "protesters." Click here for the rest.

MISLEADING!

The Media and disability

THE DISABILITY RIGHTS MOVEMENT February

DIRECTORY OF DISABILITY BLOGS
Greatestjournal
E-Wheelingby Eleanor Lisney, in Europe
Mary Johnson Edge-Centric
Talking to Myself by Chava Willig Levy
Crip Chronicles"
Fangworld
Sarah Lynn
Disability in the Brazilian Context
The Gimp Parade
John Kelly's NAG

the Angry Gimp
"Did I Miss Something?"
Michael Bérubé
Sherman Dorn (USF)
Critical Mass Disability & Literature
Using Weblogs in Ed (NJ)Gimpy Mumpy
Web Accessibility (UK)
Developmental Disability System Reform
Emerging Horizons: Accessible Travel News
Erik's MS Blog
Ad Nauseum
brokenclay.
windchime walker
Marvin’s Laurent,

Golden Notebook
Rolling Rains Report
The 19th Floor
lisy babe's blog
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