I haven’t written in a while but I am too nervous to just sit and wait.

In 2008, one year after graduating from a university and landing my first job I was approved to join a driving program. It was to facilitate the 2 hour bus ride to a job that is located about 15 minutes away.
Putting me behind the wheel is their goal; my goal is to go further. I want take advantage of all the opportunities life has to offer, in work as well as in play.

It is now 2012 and we have yet to achieve the goal. It has been four years of frustration, neglect and lots red tape. Constant hearings and evaluations, you’d think I’ve been training for the F.B.I. I appreciate most of their cautious procedures; those that are ensuring I have the right equipment, to drive with safety and ease. On the other hand sometimes I feel like a 2nd class citizen.

The lowest point was being schedule for a DMV hearing where the Driving Safety Officer swore me in and asked “why do you want to drive?”, “Where will you be driving to?” these are not questions most are asked to get their permit, not only was I asked but I was under oath. Of course I answered, after all it is their game and I must play by their rules at least until I reach my goal.

Training in an accessible vehicle has been tough and I’m not very good at it, YET! Failure is not an option; I will conquer the challenge as I always do. Now getting a license is half the battle the other half is getting approved for a much needed grant to pay for the $50,000 adaptive technology (does not include vehicle). I dislike having my future in someone else hands. Someone who may fail to see my life as a good investment can reject my appeal.

I won’t let the pessimist in me overtake my optimism. I will train behind the wheel and will get good at it. I will continue to do what I do, work, play, volunteer and create and hope that when my application goes in they see my worth.

Books and articles have been written about the qualities a boyfriend should possess and How-Tos on starting your own check list, I’m 28 and still procrastinating…

I never thought about who the ideal guy was for me. I went with the flow, if I dug I guy I go out with him, if not, I ignore his calls (I’m better at avoidance than rejection). After some girl talk with my sister about all the failed relationships, she suggested I look deep and see what qualities I am looking for. I gave it much thought and it came down to the “Mullet”. No, not a guy who sports the 80’s hair style, but someone that has the qualities of the “Mullet”: Business in the front and Party in the back.

I want someone with ambition, goal-oriented, focused, and drive to create a better future. On the other hand, I also want someone adventurous, a risk-taker, who can have fun at a punk show and let loose on the dance floor. Have I just described the Loch Ness Monster of the male species? Can one man have all these qualities? I hope so or I’ll be moving into a Polyandry (a woman having multiple husbands) tribe in order to fulfill my needs.

Although we just celebrated 2011, earth is much, much older at 4.5 billion years according to radioactive dating techniques (what-ever that means) I however, will only be celebrating 29 years of life this year. With that comparison you’d think I would feel as if I have just discovered the fountain of youth and its given me an eternity to fulfill my dreams. Unfortunately, the end of the year just brings the recollection of past failures and the new year the consciousness that something must change.

New Year’s Resolution Time!!! Many fall into this tradition; sounds promising but most of the time fall short from actually resolving anything. Unlike the most popular resolutions from Babylonian times which were to return borrowed farm equipment to neighbors, popular resolutions from our era are: losing weight, getting a better job and saving money. All of which I’ve always plan for and fail to do so. I am NOT a failure per se, I just can’t expect to have a total life change in a year! Let’s be realistic I’ve had the beginning of my life to fuck it up, its going to take a little more than a year to get it resolved.

Baby steps my dear, baby steps! One step, each month that is the plan. My new year’s resolution is to at least be 12 steps closer to my goals.

I wish to not disturb you but this is urgent. Our country our world is full of discrimination and imperfections. If you feel passionately about something get into action, change the world and its views. The status quo can be change by one person in action. Imagine what we can accomplish, if each and every one of us speaks out against an issue. I wont lie, It can be intimidating and difficult at times. Those who profit from discrimination seem to have resources at their disposal but we have to maintain our strength and courage.

What or who will you stand up to?

There is not a day that goes by that I have not been reminded that Valentine Day is just around the corner. The messages are endless from television commercials to billboard ads, online banners on my favorite sites to my gal pals bitching over being alone once again on Valentines.  Retailers are obviously on the hunt but will consumers be spending in this economy?

Most of my guy friends seem to be sitting it out this year.  For them this day is an opportunity to wine and dine a girl and use her V-Day vulnerability in hopes to score. Unfortunately for them, with budget cuts and job loses their wallets are tight. They may just be sleeping alone this Valentine, just like the rest of their year.

The ladies, as socially accepted won’t be spending much. The National Retail Federations’ (NFR) Annual Valentine Day Survey predicts that men will spend nearly twice as much as their women counterpart. The men will be spending an average of $135.35 while women only $72.28.  

While my pals may be sitting out this year most of the country has chosen to continue with this holidays spending tradition. As per the survey overall spending is expected to decline 4% which will “only” make corporate America 14 billion dollars richer.

St. Valentine’s Day used to be recognizing as a religious holiday up until 1969 when the Catholic Church removed it from its calendar, but its religious background had long been removed by consumers and has belonged to retailers since.

The early years

 

Her life began on August 9, 1982, the exact time is unknown but it is believed it may have been late at night since that is the time she is most awake. Her mother recalls that on the day of her birth  this over weight light skinned baby  had her foot bent upwards to the point in which her toes where touching the bottom of her shins. Those may have been the first signs that this baby would not have the life that any other healthier child born in 1982 would have.  The doctor’s disregarded the bent malformation of her foot, stating that it would correct itself.

 

The years passed on her misfortune from childbirth seemed to fade away. This baby was now a dark skinned, thin to the bone toddler, living a normal life: as normal as a low income class can have. But she was happy and healthy and that was what mattered

 

Loss of normality

 
Up to that point there were no indications to show that she would have trouble with her body. Unfortunately, by the age of five, her strength declined as if her body had aged decades ahead of her. Her legs could no longer hold her weight, causing her to lose control of her balance periodically.  Her body began to reject anything that brought joy into a childhood and replaced it with tears, bruises and cuts that where bone deep. She could not longer run fast enough to play tag,  she could not climb high enough to go on a slide,  could not pump her legs hard enough to get the right elevation on a swing.  Shortly after the loss of strength she was diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy.

 

Her life became routine. Monday and Wednesday physical therapy, monthly doctor and specialist visits. Surgical procedures were done in an effort to correct the problems. Unfortunately, what was left were scars because the procedures provided short term results. Then a tragedy occurred that undid the little progress she had made

 

I remember it was in summer right before going into middle school.  It was August 14 1994. I was sitting at the kitchen table coloring. That summer I had this way of drawing. I was never a talented artist so all I did was shapes and scribbles. I would begin by placing an oval on the center and then color it in different colors like an Easter-egg. The colors were lines going into different directions but blending in like a puzzle. Well I was almost done with the biggest one I had ever done, when friends came over and asked my mother if I could go out and play. I could have finished but I grabbed my suitcase of half naked bald 99 cent Barbie dolls and headed out.  I took one step out side and fell. There was shooting pain on my leg, but I didn’t want to cry in front of my friends.  My friend’s eyes open wide and fixated on my leg. I followed their eyes: my femur was sticking out from the skin of my leg. I remember looking away: they were all I could look at until my tears filled my eyes.  I still have that incomplete egg shaped drawing- how morbid is that?

 

 

That was the last time she walked. There are different rumors giving reasons why she fell. Some say the old porch was to blame. There were nails that stuck out. Some believe her shoe got caught when she tripped. Others blamed one of the children, the younger brother of one of two girls, and the one who was always running.  Olivia assures us that he was not to blame, that he was nowhere near her during the incident. The last theory, the one with more basis in truth, was that this day was like any ordinary day in Olivia’s life. Her legs just couldn’t hold her up. Her body was unbalanced and she fell, unfortunately this time she fell in a position that caused pressure on her femur, causing it to crack in half.

 

When it rains it pours

 

She started middle school in a hot pink wheelchair with a cast from her toes straight up to her thighs. 

“Trying to walk was unbearable before the broken leg. I could barely walk without falling. How was I supposed to manage with one foot fucked up? To make things worse I had this shooting pain on my heel the moment I put pressure on my broken leg.”

 

Once her leg was healed the cast came off. She placed both feet evenly on the grown, and prepared to walk out the doctor’s office.  Her body collapsed. There was no strength left on either foot to handle the weight. The doctors stated that it was natural and that she would regain the strength. She would have more physical therapy sessions, more doctor visits and more surgeries.  She would have to work hard to regain her strength, but she never worked hard enough. 

 

Her father blamed her and her mother babied her. Her physical well being became chaos and her family life seemed to be reflecting her dysfunctional body.  Mother and father were in opposite ends.  They were different but they balanced her.

 

“My dad used to tell me “helping you is not helping you. It irritated me but it forced me to fight.” my mom was there for me when things got to tough”  

 

Two years passed and she still had not regained the strength to walk. The summer before 8^th grade she had the most painful surgical procedure done on both legs.  

 

“I was in so much pain both physically and emotionally. My mom would not leave me alone not even for a second and my father wouldn’t let me take the codeine which I needed to take the pain away. Instead he prescribed lettuce tea, which was to calm the nerves and make me sleepy but when your muscles in your foot were rearranged - that shit doesn’t work.  My mom and dad fought like cats and dogs that summer.  If my mother wasn’t in constant watch over me and if my father hadn’t removed the codeine from temptation, I would have off-ed myself on pills.

 

Their differences caused her parents to divorce. Due to her rapid loss of independence both her parents had to stay near. Her father drove her to her doctor’s appointments and therapy sessions. Unable to work at a regular job with those unstable hours he was forced to work from his garage fixing cars. Her mother’s inability to drive forced her to move across the street in order to be near her daughter in order to support her both emotionally and physically. At this point Olivia was unable to get dressed, shower, use the restroom, and transfer without assistance. She hated that she needed them both and she blamed her self for all the fights. They blamed her as well.

 

 

A final surprise

 

The surgery was both painful and unsuccessful.  The doctors decided that Cerebral Palsy may not be the culprit and she had to go through further testing to see what was wrong.  She was hopeful and naïve. As they stuck large needless in her muscles and moved them around, and electric shock was sent to her muscles to see how they would react. She screamed and cried but continued to have hope.  Envisioning herself being told by the doctor that she had a curable condition that could be treated by one pill, kept her strong.  Instead her dream became a realistic nightmare. She was diagnosed with limb-girdle muscular dystrophy an incurable and progressive disease. She was not going to get better; it only going to get worse.

 

“I don’t know what I thought, I cried, but it was emotionless. It was as if I was crying because that’s what I had to do.  It didn’t hit me, the reality of all of it. Years later I still don’t think it has hit me completely to be honest with you”

 

 

A new beginning

 

Many say that she began to fight for her life when she started high school. She was somewhat normal there.  She was like the rest just, trying to fit in. Others had challenges just like her but different ones. Some were over weight; others had bad acne, some where stereotyped as gangsters, sluts, gays, and nerd. Everyone there was fighting to fit in one way or another. The beautiful people had a challenge to live up to their beauty, to fight the ugly glares from the jealous. Sport jocks had the challenge to live up to their potential. Life was a challenge not just for her but for everyone one. Her fathers phrase started to make sense and her mothers caring nature was going to be comfort as she began to fight for a normal life  With family and friends  and the occasional “stranger” as her support, she tried-out and became a varsity cheerleader. She was unable to jump but her attitude compensated for her lack of cheer abilities. 

She graduated High School and went on to Mt. Sac Community College were she met more strangers who became friends and strength. She became a performer, speaking about military exceptions, medicinal poisons, disability and sex. She was a successful competitor winning various awards in both public speaking and interpretation. In 2003 she placed third place in a national speech competition for her hilarious speech about A.D.A compliances or the lack of in universities.

 

Still fighting

 

She recently graduated from Chapman University with a bachelor’s degree in public relations and advertisement and is currently working. Olivia has many hopes and dreams; ones that won’t turn into nightmares.

 

“No. I don’t have hopes of ever walking. I gave up the fight of walking instead I have learned to live independently with it. I don’t see my self as disabled individual, or a non-disabled one I just see me.

 

 This is just the beginning. She wants you to see her; I want you all to see me…..

I always asked myself, is my story worth telling? Can my struggles and accomplishment inspire anybody? Can my neurosis be entertaining enough to keep someone interested?  Then I start to question my courage, Can I really tell it all? I decided not to worry and just write about anything and everything, my experiences, thoughts, hopes, fears, accomplishment, fuckups, and even shame. I may not be able to publish it all but I will write it; maybe someday I will have the courage to reveal every part of me.

Siempre me pregunté a mí misma, es mi historia digna de contar? ¿Pueden mis luchas y logros inspirar a alguin? ¿Pueden mi neurosis ser entretenimiento suficiente para mantener a alguien interesado? Despues comienzo a la pregunta de mi valentía, ¿Realmente puedo decirlo todo? Decidí no preocuparme y simplemente escribir lo, mis experiencias, pensamientos, esperanzas, temores, logros, Jodiditos, e incluso la vergüenza. Puede que no sea capaz de publicar todo, pero voy a escribir lo, tal vez algún día tendré el valor de revelar cada parte de mí.