Support

I first saw this Willow tree in “all its glory” when we first moved here in 2015

I really love living in Anne Arundel County. When we first moved to our “forever home” in 2015 (worthy of this auspicious title because we finally found an affordable and accessible home), this Willow tree was huge! Located on a nearby farm that I drove by every single day, this tree shaded a large area of pasture that 10-15 cows called home. You can tell by the size of the original trunk how massive this tree was in its prime.

I do not know if my admiration and affection stemmed from the fact the tree was simply beautiful, or that it bordered this idyllic version of a small farm reminding me of my childhood. Regardless, I became really attached to this tree. I passed it on the way to work and on the way home from work. It was hard not to get distracted by which cow or calf was scratching its bovine butt or shoulder on the trunk of this tree as I drove by each day.

One day I noticed that the owners had added some wooden supports on one side. I had noticed the tree had a slight “lean” to it all along and was curious about the farmer’s attempt to provide assistance against the “lean”. After twenty minutes of “googling” Weeping Willow trees, I discovered that their shallow root system can mean a tree can be at risk in high wind areas or areas with high water tables. I was actually surprised the farmer chose to do this as the effort provided support, but certainly was not aesthetically pleasing. It was the only provisional shade in the pasture, so perhaps the owners sought to prevent a problem before it happened. In this way, the farmer insured necessary relief from the heat of the day for the small herd.

Wouldn’t ya know, last Fall “something” happened to this tree. I didn’t see it happen so could only guess as the trunk was split and the vast majority of the tree lay in pieces on the ground. It made me very sad. Don’t ask me why, but I was a little weepy about the broken Weeping Willow! Over the next week I noticed branches being cut and hauled away. I was surprised to see the core trunk of this once stately giant with graceful crown of “weeping” branches still intact. In fact, it continued to be supported.

I like to think this survivor tree held some kind of sentimental value to the farmers. Perhaps it was a more pragmatic reason such as Willows grow quickly and it provided necessary shade to protect the cattle on a day with unforgiving heat and humidity. Still, I prefer thinking it was for heartfelt reasons they chose to do what they could for this “little engine that could” tree.

I watched all winter. Each day I drove by and thought this tree is DEAD and DONE. Much to my surprise, this Spring the tree began to grow again. It looks a little awkward and perhaps even unsightly with the obvious man-made supports in place. Yet it sprouted new branches with blooms and then leaves. I have a feeling this tree is going to surprise us all.

Anne Arundel Community College, like other schools nationwide, was forced to move all instructions online this Spring. Is it because I’m late-deafened that I really prefer interacting with my students face-to-face? Maybe. I know plenty of instructors with normal hearing that were dismayed by the daunting task of providing an engaging learning environment.

Many teachers provide a little blurb in their syllabus and perhaps a “3 minute mention” about accessible options, assistance and supports, and disAbility services. I realize it is likely because my heart beats within the chest of someone who lives with disAbilities and chronic conditions, but to me the issue should not be mentioned once and then never again. For one thing, there are numerous conditions that do not classify as a disability yet students still benefit from support. There are mental health diagnosis and physical chronic conditions that may make it difficult for a student to be “all in” during classes.

This is why I talk about it… WEEKLY. I remind students to come to me if they need support. Perhaps they need a face-to-face meet in my office. After quarantine, it may mean they needed a Zoom call so that they could talk. Prior to the social isolation restrictions in place, I used the ‘RED PAPERCLIP‘ system. My students have nameplates that they toss in a folder at the end of class. If the red paper clip on the back of their name plate was moved to the top, I contacted them via email and we set up a “text meet”, office hours conference, or FaceTime call.

After Spring break turned into a 3-week long, panic-filled transition period for instructors, I thought long and hard about what to do in place of my “RED PAPERCLIP‘ system so that students could still let me know they needed my support for something. These “somethings” included things like:

  1. A 2-3 day extension on a due date
  2. A pep-talk
  3. A listening ear
  4. Further information about the details of a project if the written instructions alone were not enough
  5. Resources and/or connections to virtual mental health practitioners (I’m a teaching psychologist and not a counseling psychologist).
  6. Resources for food, shelter, etc.
  7. Advice and discussion about transfer decisions
  8. Extra credit opportunities
  9. AND MUCH MORE

So what to do if I didn’t have nameplates turned in after class and a visual check of red paperclips? Mid-semester I could only come up with staying in close contact (every couple of days) via email, reminding them of my availability and desire to assist. Do you know during the last 8 weeks of the semester, I received a half dozen texts from students who only sent a picture of a red paperclip? I received OVER a dozen emails from students with “red paperclip” in the subject line of their email. It made me smile. Well… it was a weepy smile, but a smile nonetheless.

For whatever reason, the farmer down the road from me, decided to support this willow tree. Will it ever be self-supporting again? I can’t answer that. Yet with support, this weeping willow provides something needed and necessary to a small herd of cattle. It is growing back quickly. Who knows what it will look like next year? Perhaps it provides some sentimental value to the owner as well. What I can tell you is that without the man-made supports in place, this tree wouldn’t have had a chance at a comeback.

My students know that I get “having a bad day”. I don’t allow them to abuse it but they know they can email me for some additional supports or “course grace”. I am also very transparent about my own good days, bad days, and having to push through ON a bad day. You see? I want to model good self-care. I also want to model the strength required to ask for assistance. Heck, I am “fiercely independent” using cochlear implant, captioning apps, service dog, and cane. However, I have learned there is no shame in asking for assistance. In fact, there is strength in asking for assistance and support.

Do you have people in your life right now who need support? If you don’t, you aren’t looking. We all need some support at different times in our lives. It may be a small “help”, but it can mean the world to someone at a time in their life when they just “need a little something”. I also encourage you to learn to ask for support. I assume many of you who are long-time readers of “Hearing Elmo” have disabilities or chronic conditions. Having extra challenges doesn’t mean you aren’t capable of helping others. It also means that you may need a little support from time to time. Learning to ask in a cheerful, matter-of-fact way goes a long way in positive advocacy. I have learned that many friends, colleagues and even total strangers do not know HOW I need support unless I inform them. It may sound like:

“Excuse me, could you pick up that credit card that I dropped? My service dog has trouble with that unless it is on carpet”.

“The automatic door button doesn’t seem to be working. Could you open and hold the door for me?”

“My fingers are particularly numb today. Do you mind picking up the papers at the end of each row?”

“The elevator in this building is not working today. Can you walk a few steps in front of me as I descend?” (Finn, my service dog, does all the work. However, I need a visual peripheral block to keep from feeling wobbly).

“Can you talk into my phone so my app can caption your voice? There is so much background noise in here I cannot hear you”

“Do you mind carrying my tray from the register to a table? With leash and rolling bag in hand, I cannot manage carrying that safely”.

I have never NOT had someone willing to help.

So keep an eye out for leaning willow trees. Pay attention to any “red paperclips” on the face of or in the body language of someone you meet. In small (and sometimes large) ways, we can make a difference.

L. Denise Portis, Ph.D.

©2020 Personal Hearing Loss Journal 

 

Darn it, I am STRONG

 

I’m no Super Hero, but I am strong!

You have “stuff”. I have “stuff”. Y’all? We all HAVE “STUFF”.

I am — who I am — because of “my stuff”. Your own “stuff” may not define you but it certainly shaped the person you are. It is a wee bit aggravating, however, when someone says “You are such a Super Hero or an inspiration” because of who I am as a person with disABILITY. It’s not that I don’t want to inspire someone. I hope my adult children and grandchildren think I am worthy of imitation and example. I also want to instill in them (and others) their special value because of who they are all because they are here,

on earth,

within our community,

making a difference where they can.

This Doesn’t Mean…

I am not grateful for all God has allowed in my life to make me the woman I am. I want to encourage. I want to be a good example to others. I want to make a difference. This does indeed mean that I am grateful for my disABILITIES. My hearing loss has taught me about communication and about visual cues about the soul of a person. My balance disorder has taught me to take special care, that every step and turn should not be done impulsively. My cane has taught me to lean on something sturdy to provide a 3-point foundation. My service dog has taught me to pay attention and to have confidence in something with far keener senses than I have. I am grateful for my disABILITIES. Yet, I want to inspire, encourage, and don super hero capes because I am a strong woman.

Your stuff may not be disABILITY. Maybe you are a member of a diversity group and the challenges that has presented has strengthened once weak character muscles. Advocacy and inclusion awareness activities have broadened your scope and influence. You are strong because of it.

Maybe that you are a single parent, a survivor of a serious illness, domestic violence, recovered addict, or live with other invisible or chronic illnesses, have made you the strong person you are.

I’m currently staying with my mother who is recovering from a 2nd hip replacement. A North Carolina sister-friend contacted me and we were to have lunch today to catch up. It’s raining, like… a LOT. This means my balance is wobbly, my tinnitus is roaring, and I’m feeling particularly shaky. My friend texted me early (knowing the state I am likely in right now) and suggested a (quite literal) raincheck for lunch.

Does this mean that I’m weak… today? No. I may have to make smart decisions to keep myself safe and avoid likely falls and concussions, but this does not make me weak. I am still strong. It simply means that today my strength is manifest in my practice of good self-care. I can wobble and be strong by making smart decisions to take care of myself.

Challenges not Limitations

Each of you have something that makes life a challenge. Whether it is something physical, spiritual, emotional, or cognitive, we all have challenges. I don’t like the word “limitations”. I prefer to think I am not limited in any way. Instead, I have challenges that exercise my muscles to make me strong. It might mean different choices. Perhaps it means a “raincheck”. I may have to ask for assistance from my service dog or even a person. I am not limited. I simply have challenges. These challenges make me strong.

This post began with exposing something everyone already knows. We all “have stuff”. Your own “stuff” presents challenges, but those challenges make you strong.

This doesn’t mean that you may occasionally feel overwhelmed. It doesn’t mean that there is anything wrong with the fact that at times, you just want to give up. That’s where the rest of us come into the picture. We need each other. We need to support each other. We need to celebrate with each other. If you haven’t seen the now viral video of Miss Nigeria going bananas with genuine glee at the “win” of her friend Miss Jamaica, you have missed out. You can view it here.

I want to be the kind of support and help to YOU, that I don’t hesitate to respond with questions from people who follow my blog or who know about my work in the disABILITY community. I want to celebrate every win you have. I also want to assist when you do not win, and I want to stand in the gap for you when you simply need someone to care. Blogs, vlogs, online support groups, and social media platforms have become a valued network and access to “Miss Nigerias”.

Hey… I totally get feeling all alone on my own little island, crippled by my MIND about my own disABILITIES. It happens. We buckle, hole up, and lick our wounds. Friend, please don’t stay there. Look for the resources and help easily found in a vast array of fully accessible environments. Indeed, we all have “stuff”. We also need each other.

L. Denise Portis

©2019 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

“H A L P”

I’ve…
got this…
Halp! HALP Geegay!

Say what?

My granddaughter Samantha Jean just turned two-years-old. Samantha is at the stage where she has opinions and expresses those opinions. These opinions vary from what she wants to wear today, to what she wants to eat, to what she wants to DO, and what she wants you to do. She is just full of opinions. She also is very independent already.

“I do it!” After caring for her a couple of weeks while mama was in the hospital having her baby brother (rather early), this phrase quickly made its way to “Samantha’s Favorite Words” list.

I had to learn to let her do it, even if I wasn’t happy with the results when she was finished. Thankfully, since she is only 2, I was able to distract her to “fix it” or wait until she moved on to another activity and straighten, organize, or re-do the activity to my satisfaction.

(Yeah. I’m a little OCD and a bit of a control freak!)

What I love about Samantha, is that unlike many two-year-olds, if she was NOT able to do something she rarely had a meltdown about it. I was amazed at the first time she asked me for “halp”, and graciously stepped aside to let me do it.

I heard these requests for “halp” for numerous things:

When trying to stick her head through an arm hole instead of the one designated for her – ahem – HEAD,

When trying to get blueberries to stay on her spoon,

When trying to safely navigate the steps on the back porch which were a bit too much for such short legs,

When her train rolled to where she couldn’t reach it underneath the buffet,

When trying to read a book,

When trying to get up on some of the furniture, (see photos)

Sometimes Samantha would ingeniously choose a way to do something differently so that she could stay independent in the activity. For example, if there was something for her nearby she could use as a means of boosting herself up on tall furniture, she might drag that toy or bench close to use it to navigate her destination without “halp”.

She cannot manage “Grandma” yet so she calls me “Geegay”. I figure she will get there so I think the latter is awfully darn CUTE. I loved hearing Samantha say, “HALP, Geegay!” throughout the day. She more often did things without assistance, but never hesitated to ask for help should she:

  1. Figure out she really did need it to accomplish what she wanted to do.
  2. Was too tired to find an accessible means to accomplish it on her own, or the effort wasn’t worth the “gain”.

I had to admit while living with her, I saw the lesson to be learned again and again.

Stubborn People with disABILITY

I realized the other day that I have lived with disABILITY longer than I have lived without. The feeling was strange since I had simply shouldered new challenges and practiced “keep on keepin’ on” while aging. People with disABILITY (congenital or acquired) often find that as they age, accommodations that were once enough to give them access to an activity or opportunity, no longer are enough. Perhaps even accessibility tools, electronics, devices, etc., may have once allowed you to be independent in a task but as you age you find those things are not enough to be completely independent.

My life with a disABILITY started at the age of 6 with a traumatic brain injury, broken bones, and destroyed hearing in the left ear. After a long recovery, I never felt like a person with a disABILITY until about the age of 18 when my hearing loss became bilaterally progressive. I eventually acquired Meniere’s disease (a vestibular disorder) and really began identifying as a person with a disABILITY at the age of 26 or 27.

I have a good friend who describes herself as “bilaterally hearing-impaired”. Because we are both currently training our third service dog and work at the same place, we often train together. One thing I love about hanging out with Jessica is that she always asks if she can do something for me. Whether it is to get the door for me, pick up something I’ve dropped, carry something for me, etc., she always asks first. She doesn’t assume I want her help, she thinks to ask first in the event her assumption I need it is unwanted or not needed.

Sometimes I say, “actually Finn has been working on door buttons, let us see if he will get this door open for us”. Perhaps the item I dropped is something my Golden puppy can safely work on his retrieve and get for me, so I will let her know that Finn and I have “got it handled” and no “halp” is needed. After training together for some time, Jessica once replied to my “no thanks we’ve got this” with a very thoughtful reminder.

“No problem. However, we know each other well enough now that I trust you to let me know when you need help and that you will ask for that help”.

The first time she interjected this reminder, I found myself thinking about it the rest of the day. Can you guess why? It is simple really. People with disABILITY can be pretty stubborn, and never ask for “halp” when they really need it. We can even earn the reputation of being ornery about our refusal; ungracious in both word and attitude.

In my early adult years of learning to live with deafness and balance issues, I adopted a rather unattractive and even dangerous attitude of “I am woman. Hear me roar!” This could be interpreted as, “I don’t need help. Leave me be. I’ve got this. Don’t you dare pity me!”

The only reason I can think of that I acted with such vehement, even arrogant refusal is that I didn’t want people to pity me. I also did not want them to think that I was UNable rather than differently-abled. I think that all changed for me when I realized how it made ME FEEL when I asked to assist someone who needed my “halp” and they refused. After realizing I felt “robbed” and even hurt when denied the opportunity to help someone that I cared about who obviously needed my “halp”, I started re-thinking my own stubborn refusals.

I have lived with the assistance of 3 service dogs now. Even so, there are things my canine partner cannot do for me, or cannot do SAFELY on my behalf. I have learned to ask for “halp”.

I have never, EVER been turned down. Even should I ask the most cantankerous-looking  curmudgeon in the aisle at the grocery store to get the 32-ounce can of turnip greens on the bottom shelf because a) I can’t bend down and get it, and b) the circumference is to large for my Golden’s mouth, I have never been told NO when asking for “halp”. (Hey we love our turnip greens in this house! I lived in the South a loooooong time).

Solutions to World Problems

Surely a solution to the world’s problems is to simply be kind to others. We all know that isn’t going to be the norm, however. Still, individually we can do our part and hope (even pray) for a ripple effect.

In every way that YOU can, make a difference.

If someone needs it, “HALP” them. Do it with a smile and without conditions. Do so easily, readily, and without any need for acknowledgement. Be the kind of person who so naturally sees a need and meets that need that it becomes who you are and not what you do.

But…

It is always good to ask. Never assume that someone who appears to need help, wants your help. Maybe they have some assistive device that will allow them to pick up that item without “halp”. They want to be independent.

BUT…

Don’t be a stubborn jackass. If you need “halp”, ASK. If someone asks if they can “halp” and you simply need a few minutes to do it yourself, explain that graciously. Don’t become haughty and retaliate with angry words and threats about where you are gonna hit them with your cane. Don’t tell them what to do with their request to “halp”. (Ahem)

Necessary Reminder

May I share something with you that you already know?

Even able-bodied people need “halp” sometimes. Whether it is assistance with a task, or a needed hug at a low moment, all of us need each other. The next time you need assistance for “halp”, just ASK already!

Even my two-year-old granddaughter will ask for my help when she knows she needs it. She even does so when she recognizes that she can do the task, but that it will get done quicker and with less effort if she simply asked for HALP.

Pogosyan (2018) provides multiple reasons why we should be willing to help and accept help from others. “Research has found many examples of how doing good, in ways big or small, not only feels good, but also does us good” (para. 2). So in closing, I would like to remind you (and yes myself as well) that disallowing someone to assist actually robs them of the benefit gained from that help.

Pogosyan goes on to explain that, “One reason behind the positive feelings associated with helping others is that being pro-social reinforces our sense of relatedness to others, thus helping us meet our most basic psychological needs” (Pogosyan, 2018, para. 1). In a very powerful way, it supports our need for EACH OTHER.

I’m starting to think this world is just a place for us to learn that we need each other more than we want to admit. – Richelle E. Goodrich
Our greatness has always come from people who expect nothing and take nothing for granted – folks who work hard for what they have, then reach back and help others after them. – Michelle Obama

L. Denise Portis, Ph.D.

©2019 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

Pogosyan, M. (2018). In helping others, you help yourself. Psychology Today. Retrieved December 7, 2019, from https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/between-cultures/201805/in-helping-others-you-help-yourself

 

 

Overcoming It

A hero is just someone who is brave a little bit longer

For a former “farm girl”, I recognize it goes against the grain to say I HATE RAIN.

Besides… I don’t HATE rain, I hate the consequence of rain.

Not the consequence of providing necessary water to growing plants.

Not the consequence of washing the world clean.

I hate the consequence of navigating a rainy day. It promises bruises, headaches, falls, and sudden yelps and “CRAP, woah!” exclamations.

The irony is not lost on me that although I am profoundly deaf (when not wearing my cochlear implant),

although I have post concussive syndrome from numerous falls,

although I have a bum ankle that I badly sprained 4 years ago and wish to God I had broken instead,

… Meniere’s disease is the battle for which I must “don the cape”. Something that falls into the “invisible illness” category. A disease/disorder with no cure and few agreed upon symptom smashers.

Meniere’s and weather changes are incompatible. On bad weather days I sometimes have to psych myself up and recognize that I cannot change the weather today and I cannot cure my Meniere’s. What I can do is “don the cape” and make the best of it.

Today I had my heart set on going to training at Fidos For Freedom, Inc., the organization from which I received both of my service dogs. My current service dog, Milo, loves going and the extra practice does us both good. I usually don’t wave the white flag on a day until I actually get up and go look at the sky. Lord knows, our weather forecasters are not very accurate about a “3 day” or “5 day” outlook. (Super strange that it seems the m0re technology available to us, the more meteorologists miss the forecast). I usually know it’s raining outside as soon as my feet hit the floor. I certainly cannot hear it <grin> as I don’t “have my ears in yet”. This morning I knew as soon as I swung my feet out of bed that it was raining. It’s fairly easy to guess when the entire room is spinning and the floor seems to be missing under my feet.

I always start out strong. I CAN DO THIS. I let the dogs out and start my coffee. Something I do each and every morning. No matter that I am doing it while hugging the nearest wall or counter.

I didn’t sink to the floor this morning, sobbing, after letting the dogs in for breakfast. I hung on to the chair rail molding on the wall and shook, said a few choice words, immediately asked for forgiveness and pled in genuine prayer to help me let go and walk to the kitchen. I’ve learned that caving to the despair only exacerbates my symptoms.

So I’m not going to Fidos For Freedom, Inc. today even though Milo-bear is looking forlornly out the window wishing we weren’t at home.

Please do not misunderstand this post. I’m not looking for sympathy. I am not inviting you to my pity party. I simply want to share what it is like to live with a chronic, invisible illness. It might also surprise you that I am glad

happy

untroubled

delighted

pleased 

… at peace with having this disease. If I did not have Meniere’s disease, I know that I would not have the heart and passion for people who live with invisible illness. When I am the one tagged to produce a post for “Hearing Elmo”, I do not do so from the keyboard of an expert. I don’t have the answers. I don’t have anything profound to share today.

NOTE: Like to write? Want to share your journey? Hearing Elmo welcomes guest writers!

Instead I can salute and encourage all who must “don the cape” and simply make it through today. Overcoming one hour at a time and making the best of it. Shauna Niequist said, “… what I can do is offer myself, wholehearted and present, to walk with the people I love through the fear and the mess. That’s all any of us can do. That’s what we’re here for.” 

We are super heroes because simply “overcoming it” is our default and salvation. It’s not always pretty and I don’t always “rock my cape” with grace, drive, and power. Sometimes I just feel pissed. But…

I’m overcoming it. I’ve had practice. I’ve got this.

And friend? So do you.

Nope. It ain’t easy. You can overcome it. You have before. You will today. “Don the cape” and get through today.

L. Denise Portis, Ph.D.

© 2018 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

The Selfless Practice of Self-Care

It’s strawberry season! My little city just had a strawberry festival, and although I was not able to attend (there was a torrential rain), my husband picked me up some strawberries as he knows my fondness for anything “berry”.

Lately I have been thinking about “self-care” a good bit. I recently made a choice to not do something on behalf of someone I care for and I knew (from their reaction and words) how much I disappointed them. With strawberries on hand (and no dried beans or walnuts as the illustration normally requires), I decided to re-do the illustration with some different elements. I had rice, almonds and now strawberries. Hey… you work with what you have, am I right?

I hate disappointing people. Especially people I really care about and enjoy being around. I have only recently earned a self-awarded “certificate of self-care advocacy”. My normal response to being asked to do something I cannot do, should not do, and will sacrifice my health/mental health to do was “sure! No problem!” and a default. It’s hard to practice self-care at times, because others misunderstand and may believe you are being selfish, self-pitying, or lack compassion for others. I have learned to “stick to my guns”, but it doesn’t mean I don’t recognize and feel another’s disappointment in me. The flip side? I am not disappointed in myself.

My Re-Make of an Old Illustration

So let’s say the grains of rice are all the little things we do each and every day. They are choices to spend 5-10 minutes doing “this or that”. They are relatively unimportant tasks that if left undone, the world does not implode.

The almonds are more important things. I’m going to call my “nuts” family <grin>, close friends, advocacy groups, work and professional life, and community service/faith practices.

The strawberry is me. This big, luscious (- hey… jus’ sayin’) berry includes my physical health, mental health, emotional well-being, and spiritual well-being.

In the jar on the left <points up>, I filled my day/life with all the inconsequential things first, then the “nuts” in my life, and finally me – a big, beautiful strawberry…

… that doesn’t fit.

The jar on the right has the berry going in first. The rice and nuts settle around it just fine. (Yes, I measured and each jar has equal amounts of rice and almonds). If you look carefully, not only did everything FIT, there is some left-over room at the top.

Mayhap poorly illustrated, the point is that if you do NOT put yourself first everything will NOT fit.

Ya gotta NOURISH to FLOURISH

Folks with disability have a hard time with self-care. Let’s stop and discuss possible reasons:

  1. They feel guilty already because they may require another’s assistance and time to do normal tasks.
  2. They rarely have 50/50 friendships. They fear they will be labeled as “takers” and not “givers”.
  3. They fear a lack of control over their lives. Instead, they sacrificially try to help others first, ultimately hurting themselves.
  4. They want to be useful and have a life of purpose.
  5. They believe to say they cannot do something admits defeat.
  6. They work WAY to hard trying to live up to the accomplishments or abilities of someone else who shares their diagnosis but not their life. (No two people are alike).

One of the hardest lessons I’ve learned is that I cannot live a life with purpose and make a difference if I do not take care of myself FIRST. It’s not selfish. It’s selfLESS. If I do not take care of myself, I am useless and unable to do anything at all for anyone else. I have made the mistake of saying “yes” to something with too high a price tag, only to suffer for days, weeks, or months physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. When I practice good “self-care”, I am actually able to do MORE for others.

Now you may be thinking that’s all fine and dandy, but if I am saying “no” to things in order to protect my energy levels, health, and mental health, aren’t people going to really stop seeing a person with disability who CAN have a life of purpose and instead see someone DISABLED?

Not if you handle turning down requests the right way.

You can’t babysit your niece this weekend because you know you need some extra rest? Ask if you can babysit with a 7-10 day notice so that you can rest up in ADVANCE and help with babysitting.

You (and others) were asked to volunteer for a community service opportunity that would mean an entire day of being in a big crowd? (With Meniere’s disease, I can only take so much jostling). Ask if you can donate snacks for the breaks. Ask if there is anything you can do behind the scenes.

Work is having a “walk a mile in her shoes” event. (Everyone wears heels and walks a designated route and distance to support rape, sexual assault, and domestic violence programs and survivors). Y’all? I can’t walk 3 feet in heels with a balance disorder, let alone toddle, stumble and do face-plants all the way around a track with my colleagues. This doesn’t mean I can’t: Invite others to participate, give extra credit to students who participate, volunteer to hand out bottles of water (and bandaids-snort), and cheer along the side-lines. 

Let’s say you really like visiting with a person and care about them a great deal. However, what if they have baggage (in the form of spouses or intimate partners) that may accompany your “person” who is toxic to you and everyone you know? Offer to meet with the friend for a one-on-one lunch or visit. You set the safe boundaries and ultimately enjoy your time with them.

Work related requirements: I have learned that if a meeting or activity is required and yet will not be fully accessible to me (hearing, space to move safely, etc.) to request accommodations WITHOUT APOLOGY. However, then I work hard to be fully invested and participate with enthusiasm. 

In closing, I wanted to share a final thought. This one I am still working on and currently fail to do it right more than I do it wrong.

Don’t apologize for practicing self-care.

I worry too much about what people think I suppose. I tend to TMI (too much information) after declining an invitation to participate in something and make excuses when none are necessary. I’m trying to learn not to say:

I’m sorry I can’t help with that. I know I’m letting you down.

and instead say,

I know myself well enough I cannot do that safely. I am trying to practice self-care. May I do “this (fill-in-the-blank)” instead?

Develop a self-care plan. Chart out (it helps to see it, I promise!) what you can do in a day and what you can do in a week. Stubbornly defend your right to say “no” to something when your chart is already full. Y’all? Don’t scratch out that necessary NAP to do a task for someone else instead. If your nap is needed to re-charge, make it a priority.

Take care of yourself! (A great article on what self-care IS and IS NOT – CLICK HERE).

L. Denise Portis, Ph.D.

© 2018 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

I Would Rather Walk with a Friend in the Dark, than Alone in the Light

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I would rather walk with a friend in the dark, than alone in the light — Helen Keller

I graduated from Walsh High School in a rural area of Colorado in 1984. Fast forward 34 years <wince> and I am graduating again with now my final degree. In 1984 I was a healthy young woman with a moderate hearing loss in one ear. In 2018 I am a middle-aged woman in a perpetual state of getting healthy <wince>, profoundly deaf (and “hearing again” as long as I am wearing my bionics) and an adult with disability from Meniere’s disease and Post Concussive Syndrome.

It may surprise you to learn that I am happier and healthier (emotionally and psychologically) than I was at the age of 18. Life has been hard – and continues to be, but doesn’t everyone experience that in some form or fashion? My challenges have made me who I am today.

The 2018 Denise, has found a life worth living by embracing my unique challenges and focusing my life and energy in the disability community. Oh yes! It’s hard sometimes… dark even; however, I am amongst friends, fellow warriors, super heroes, and advocates.

May I just say, “THANK GOD FOR THE INTERNET”? There are numerous research studies that support that the Internet has connected, educated, and created a platform for advocacy for those with disability. The community, the friends I have found over the last 34 years has made every challenge I’ve shouldered worth it. Most of the people with disabilities I have come to know have different challenges and diagnoses. Yet all work hard to experience the best quality of life they can. We use a variety of accessibility tools, medications, assistive devices, and medical procedures to maximize every opportunity while insisting on a productive and meaningful life. We are stubborn. We believe in self-care. Our priorities tend to be the things that really matter. Some of us are Spoonies.

My dissertation, something I have become quite passionate about, revolves around the theory that traumatic events and diagnoses do not have to destroy a person. As a matter of fact, a wealth of research (my own included) supports that these events can stimulate growth – the foundation of Posttraumatic Growth studies.

This doesn’t mean that I do not have bad days. They happen. Those bad days are something you recognize and experience as well. Yet I have learned that walking in the dark and challenging path of life with disability with all OF YOU, is far better than any walk I took on the lighted, well-tended path alone.

My challenges are progressive. Do you know that doesn’t even bother me? I’ve learned how resilient I am and I have learned to:

  1. Reach out to my community when needed for support
  2. Ask for advice and work-arounds
  3. Find new ways of doing things
  4. Rely on a loyal service dog for minuscule but necessary tasks I was too afraid to bother others with
  5. Believe in myself
  6. Pray hard – but work harder
  7.  Never stop learning
  8. Believe the future is accessible
  9. Stand with others
  10. Be vulnerable and open about the good and the bad

uphill-battle

I’ve also learned to CHOOSE HAPPINESS and to do my best to spread that message. It may seem like a difficult choice some days, but cognitive psychologists agree that if you deliberately change your thinker (your chooser), it will change your feeler, and show in a change in your behavior. It is amazing what “choosing happiness” can do to your personal outlook. Don’t be afraid to embrace the days you scream and cry and cuss up a storm (sorry mom). Those days will happen as well. I have learned though that if my focus is positive advocacy and choosing happiness, those screaming days are few and far between.

I’ve always admired Helen Keller. This intelligent and gifted woman had neither sight nor hearing. Yet Helen learned that her life “in the dark” was pleasantly full of like-minded friends and associates. She knew the value of walking in the dark with a friend. I hope you can learn to embrace that mindset as well.

L. Denise Portis, Ph.D.

©2018 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

New Twist on an Old Fable

Townsend version of Aesop’s Fable: The Crow and the Pitcher

A crow perishing with thirst saw a pitcher, and hoping to find water, flew to it with delight. When he reached it, he discovered to his grief that it contained so little water that he could not possibly get at it. He tried everything he could think of to reach the water, but all his efforts were in vain. At last he collected as many stones as he could carry and dropped them one by one with his beak into the pitcher, until he brought the water within his reach and thus saved his life.

Moral: Necessity is the mother of invention.


I have the privilege of hanging out with numerous people with disability. Some are students, some are colleagues I work with at Anne Arundel Community College, and some are individuals I know from various community advocacy groups. One thing I have learned about people with disabilities,

“Where there’s a will… there’s a way”

This “will” is what this Aesop’s fable of the Crow and the Pitcher reminds me of as I have seen time and time again, people with disabilities finding a way to accomplish what they need to do with whatever means available to them and within their own power.

I was walking towards an “accessible” bathroom with a young woman who self-identified as a “little person”. I normally have a rolling briefcase trailing from my right hand and a service dog in heel with the leash in my left-hand. As we approached the bathroom, I readied myself to  disengage myself from my rolling briefcase and pull the bathroom door open. Before I could do so, the student yanked one of her textbooks out of her book bag, stepped up on it, and pulled the door open. She held it open for me and never missed a beat… continuing to talk about what we were discussing on the way to the women’s bathroom.

I, myself, do things that I have simply learned which allow me to be independent. However, this example stuck with me a long time. The young woman was accustomed to doing this and obviously had practice. The young woman’s “normal” reaction was an expectation to do something NEW and NECESSARY to accommodate her need.

Another example: One day on campus as I was preparing for class, a student whom I have met only in the hallway a few times after exchanging a cheerful greeting, poked her head in the door and waved at me. This student uses a wheelchair. I walked over and realized the issue before she even opened her mouth. Right outside this classroom is a CRAZY women’s bathroom that has an entrance that is impossible for any person with mobility issues to get in and out of without assistance.

Need me to get the door?” I asked.

Yup!” – “Thanks!” she whispered with a knowing grin.

Later that week I saw her in the hallway again. This time instead of only a cheerful greeting in passing, she stopped me and told me thank you again. Even though the other bathroom on the third floor where we were was more accessible, it was much further from her class and she lacked the time necessary to go down that far to avoid being late for class. I explained to her that I had to have help with this particular door too if I had my service dog with me. We both giggled at how ridiculous it was that we required assistance for that bathroom. (Do you know I still don’t know her name? Comrade in arms, but clueless as to who she is – smile). The day I got the door for HER, my service dog was waiting patiently behind me in the classroom so I was able to assist without any hoopla or drama.

Just in case you are not a long-time reader of Hearing Elmo, I have Meniere’s disease (a vestibular disorder) and “hear again” with a cochlear implant. I also have post-concussive syndrome. I have made numerous adjustments and changes within my home, car, and office to eliminate my need for assistance. Since I can’t raise my hands over my head without swooning, everything I need in the kitchen is on a shelf I can reach safely. My shower has everything I need eye level instead of up higher on the rock-faced shower wall. I have chair-rail molding all over the house so that I can grab it with my fingers if I am walking and get wobbly. All my appliances and drawers that “stick” have a tug on them so that Milo (my service dog) can open them for me. I could go on and on, but I don’t want you to miss that the reality of ANYONE with disability or chronic illnesses, is that they are accustomed to doing whatever it takes to be as independent as possible.

Please Keep in Mind

Will you do your best to remember one thing? If a person with disability, chronic illness, or invisible condition asks you for assistance, you are their LAST resort. They have thought of and planned for everything that they can to be as independent as possible. However, there are times that we just need help.

Don’t make a big deal about helping, just do it calmly and with grace.

Don’t discuss the details or “unfairness” of the person needing your assistance unless THEY want to discuss it.

Don’t feel sorry for us.

Don’t be super dramatic and bring attention to the issue.

Where There’s a Will, There’s a Way

Earlier I stated, “where there’s a will, there’s a way”. If you live with disability, chronic illness, or visible/invisible conditions, I understand when WILL disintegrates. I work as hard as the next person with disability to be independent and strong. Yet… there are times I just throw up my hands and yell, “SCREW this! I give up!

I cannot speak for others because we are all SO different. Even people who share the same diagnosis may:

  1. Have different symptoms
  2. Take different medications
  3. Have different responses/side effects to those medications
  4. Have more support than you do
  5. Have less support than you do
  6. Have a different personality style and traits
  7. Have a different developmental history than you do
  8. Have different faith practices than you
  9. Have different co-morbid diagnoses (Other conditions in addition to their primary challenge)
  10. Have cognitive issues as well that impact problem-solving

I can say that for ME, the best thing I can do after having a “Screw this” kind of day, is to go to bed. And yup… I mean I do so even if it is only 5 PM! I always feel better, have a clearer head, and a renewed WILL after getting some rest.

I am really tired of being TIRED after having to find and produce my own accommodations for various activities. However, a fresh perspective (after a good night’s rest) nearly always renews my inner warrior and allows me to face a new day willing to do whatever I need to in order to be a thriving, surviving disability advocate.

In the comments, I welcome other examples of how you have learned to make things accessible for you.

Warm hugs and virtual “high 5’s” to my fellow differently-abled people!

© Personal Hearing Loss Journal

Denise Portis, Ph.D.

My Name is Milo and I Was Afraid of Fidgets

 

My name is Milo and I’m afraid of Fidgets

I can’t tell you how much fun it is to be on service dog partner #2. Milo (and Chloe), both trained at Fidos For Freedom, Inc. and could not be more different. Milo(bear) is timid by nature. When he is on task, however, he is very focused (and less distracted by wanting to love on EVERYONE like sweet Chloe was). However, his timidity makes introducing new things a bit of a trial.

You may be familiar with a new and popular “thang” called the “Fidget”. They are actually great classroom tools for people with ADHD. I’m all about classroom accessibility, so if things like this can help students concentrate? Well, please come with your Fidget.

Unfortunately it is “new to Milo”. Milo began seeing a lot of Fidgets in the classroom. They spin – and to my knowledge don’t make a noise – but who knows if a dog can hear even this quiet “whirrrrr”? The only problem was that Milo was terrified of them. He’d stop mid-task if he saw a Fidget in use and walk around behind me to peek around my hip.

NOT VERY HELPFUL.

I knew I was going to have to do something to get him use to these spinners. He couldn’t continue hiding under the nearest desk. Since I need him to pick up the items I constantly drop, I needed him to be able to focus in spite of Fidgets around him during class.

Desensitization

After talking to a couple of trainers at Fidos For Freedom, Inc., we decided the way to go was to desensitize Milo to the Fidgets.

… so I bought one.

I opened it up, put the center button between index finger and thumb, and “gave it a whirl” with a flick of my right hand.

Not the WISEST thing to do since Milo(bear) was sitting right next to me. He made a strange sound in the back of his throat and took off. I interpreted it as “Et tu, Brute?” (my Literature teacher-mother would be so proud).

I found Milo in the walk-in closet.

Long story short, I worked with him for 4 days in short intervals of exposure. Here is where he is now…

Hopefully, when classes start on 8/28, Milo(bear) will be completely comfortable with Fidgets. This whole “desensitization” process was good for both of us. My daughter and hubby are expecting my first grand baby in October. Milo has never been around babies. He was raised in Cumberland prison and his puppy raiser before that, nor his one-on-one trainer after… had babies around. I suspect he will have to learn to become accustomed to more things very soon. ‘Cept I won’t be spinning the baby girl around and chasing Milo(bear) to expose him. <AHEM>

Facing Our Fears – and Perhaps Desensitizing Ourselves to Them

One of the biggest pluses of having a service dog partner is the courage the partnership provides. Learning to cue off things Milo(bear) hears, that I don’t, is great! I feel safer. I can count on him to hear things before I do. I can look in the direction the “sound maker” is coming from so that I can stay safely out of the way (cars, large groups of students, shopping carts with rowdy kiddos, etc).

Because of peripheral neuropathy, I drop things all day. I’m not talkin’ about that I drop 2 or 3 things a day. I drop 2 or 3 DOZEN things a day. In the past, I would have to ask for assistance to reach it and/or pick it up. Otherwise I would risk falling because of vestibular issues. This meant I often didn’t go out and do things on my own because it was too hard to ask people for help. Milo(bear) has helped me face some of those fears because he is there to help me. His favorite task is “fetch-hold-give”. In my thinking, this isn’t true desensitization though. Milo(bear) has become an assistive tool to mitigate those challenges. It’s a way around them instead of “through” them.

As I sat and pondered whether or not I have ever truly desensitized myself to something, I realized that most learning through desensitization has come from how I chose to respond to comments, people, or situations.

At the age of 51, I have now lived more of life as a differently-abled person than as an able-bodied one. I can tell you that how I respond to challenges, hurtful comments, or discrimination is much different than how I responded as a 25-year-old. Some of this improvement evolved from exposure. Other measurable steps of improvement simply came from educating myself and learning all I could about positive advocacy. It’s not that the things people say cannot and DO not still hurt me occasionally. My RESPONSE is what has changed. A 25-year-old Denise would:

  • Cry
  • Isolate myself for days afterwards
  • Embrace depression instead of heading it off with coping techniques
  • Open my mouth and “let it rip”
  • Retaliate
  • Throw a private and public pity party (that no one ever RSVP’d to)
  • Plot revenge
  • Determine to HATE that person to the end of my days
  • Google how to put a “hit” out on someone
  • Preach at them and try to make them feel guilty with a long, drawn-out “altar call”
  • … and more equally ineffective responses.

Even through constant exposure, the 51-year-old Denise does NOT always respond in a healthy and proactive way. I still have “knee-jerk” responses occasionally, especially if it takes me by surprise. However, my new response is at the very least, more helpful to both myself and the twit that said something unkind. Now I tend to:

  • Consider the source and determine how best to respond
  • Take some time to determine HOW I want to respond
  • Determine if I SHOULD respond
  • Choose a good time and place to respond
  • Cry if needed…
  • Chant to myself “you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar” (and then ask myself if I even WANT this particular fly…)
  • Occasionally seek advice from a peer support network if it is something “major”
  • Follow through on a course of action and DON’T HOLD A GRUDGE

I have learned to do this through trial and error, but also through desensitizing myself to these situations by simply experiencing them and learning what keeps me sane and healthy in how I respond.

Let’s face it.

If you live with disability or chronic illness, you are going to constantly be faced with people who don’t understand, don’t care, or say/do inappropriate things. The 25-year-old Denise response did not improve my situation, nor did it bring peace (my zen was woefully rattled).

I do not FEAR the things people say to me or the situations I may find myself in as I live life. I know “stuff is gonna happen” and when it does, my response is MORE important than how I feel as a result of the experience.

We cannot control the things people say, nor can we completely keep our life experience with disability, “hassle-free”. I do believe we can learn to live in harmony with all the Fidgets in our lives. Being a positive advocate comes from doing things wrong sometimes and learning from it. It also comes from the discovery of having handled something well, and seeing the positive change and result from our proper response.

Denise Portis

©2017 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

 

 

 

A Prisoner of STIGMA

Tonight (4/19/17) is the 2nd annual d.A.M.N. event (disABILITY Memoirs and Notes) at Anne Arundel Community College. I was asked to share my presentation on Hearing Elmo.

PowerPoint: https://app.box.com/s/qkdo19k20djznhlpeezo7js24ik5f0mn

Presentation:

My name is Denise Portis and I teach Psychology courses here at AACC.

 

Thank you for coming to our 2nd annual d.A.M.N. event.

 

Today I want to talk to you about being a prisoner of STIGMA. I have been a disABILITY advocate for 25 years. It was not very difficult for me to reveal hearing loss and Meniere’s disease. However, the disability that had the greatest impact on me was mental illness, and THAT I chose to hide from everyone outside my immediate family.

 

SLIDE 2

 

What is a stigma? A stigma has SHAME attached to it. One source defines it as a mark of disgrace associated with a particular circumstance. If anything is well known for having a stigma associated with it, it is mental illness. I didn’t want my friends to know, my co-workers to know, my parents or siblings to know, or even my children to know until they were much older. I had become a prisoner of the stigma attached to mental illness without ever going to trial. Yet, I was as incarcerated as any person charged and tried.

 

SLIDE 3

 

I have struggled with depression and anxiety most of my adult life. I tried to hide it and even get help for it quietly, being careful not to reveal my diagnosis to anyone but those closest to me. I had heard that publicly owning it would follow me in my medical records. People would think I was unstable, unreliable, and needy. I had heard a number of accusatory and negative comments once I began choosing who I would disclose this to. I’m still surprised I didn’t allow early comments to zip my lips and go back into my jail cell, remaining a prisoner to the stigma. However, I began to experience real freedom in acknowledging what was wrong with me. That acknowledgment changed the wrong to right. For the first time I was able to understand what my diagnosis were. Mental illness is an illness. It isn’t chosen, it can be treated, and a victorious life could be mine, So I began to tell EVERYONE. It became a very real part of how I chose to be an advocate. For me, transparency worked.

 

SLIDE 4

 

And yet, throughout my determination to live free, I saw people who were given a death sentence because of their mental illness. Amy is one of my heroes. If you’ve heard of Project Semicolon, you’ve heard of the movement she began. Amy said about Project Semicolon, “In literature an author uses a semicolon to NOT end a sentence but to continue on. We see it as you are the author and your life is the sentence. You’re choosing to keep going”. Amy took her own life last month.

 

SLIDE 5

 

Luis Montalvan came to speak at AACC in 2015. Many of us in the SODA club even had our picture taken with him. Luis was a national and renowned speaker about PTSD and travelled with his service dog, Tuesday. Luis took his own life in December.

 

These two individuals were very open about their mental health disorders. Being open made a difference. Both actually found doors of opportunity available to them because of their openness. I have to tell you when I first heard about both of their deaths, I cried. I shed tears because I know what it is like to get really tired of facing a new day with mental illness. It is hard. Even though I have chosen to surround myself with people who accept me exactly as I am, even though I am open and honest about my disabilities and refuse to be a prisoner of stigma, I totally GET what it feels like to WANT to give up.

 

Are Amy and Luis cowards? Do I have something they do not? No, and NO. Their lives and their deaths simply act as a reminder to all of us that mental illness is HARD. The way I combat the hopelessness and the aloneness is by being open. I present my story and my choice simply as a way for you to examine if this will work for you. If stigma is crippling you and making you feel like a prisoner, you may want to consider a jailbreak.

 

SLIDE 6

 

Be vocal. Fight in the open. Insist on acceptance and understanding. You may not find it in your current group of friends and family. I’m not telling you that you should walk away from THEM. I am asking you to look for revealers. Look for people who do not shy away from the diagnosis, who have learned not to be ashamed nor captive to their illness. They are out there. They can be found.

 

SLIDE 7

 

At AACC the SODA club makes it easy. The group is committed to being assumption destroyers and helping to erase the stigma associated with all types of disabilities. Those that are visible and easily seen, and those that are invisible and are only known upon “reveal”. We call our group superheroes. Their super powers are different. Each have strengths and each work hard to make a difference in a superhero kind of way. If you are looking for a place to make a difference on campus and within your community, we invite you to be a part of SODA.


L. Denise Portis

© 2017 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

Can You Be Arrested for That?

My favorite cane...
My favorite cane…

I have friends who are police officers. One, Carl, is actually chief of police for a district in our area. I see him most Sundays, and tomorrow I plan to ask him, “Can you be arrested for that?” I love his sense of humor and he and his wife, Pam, are two of my favorite people. Though I know he will be witty, I also know he will be straight with me. Anything that pertains to the law, he’s gonna be frank with me.

Maybe I should back up though, and tell you the story? <grin>

First of all, I’m really tired. I could list you dozens of citations that link differently-abled people with fatigue and insomnia. I’m usually good about listing all those for you, but honestly there are over 26,000 articles since 2012 alone. (Yes… I counted, or rather Google scholar did!). But I digress…

When I’m tired I have a little more trouble filtering what I say. I am much more apt to just say the first thing on my mind. I’m trying to live with the “pause – respond” method (thanks for that Toby Mac post, Helen), and being mindful of not saying the first thing that comes to mind really helps. When I am tired though, I’m less likely to turn that filter on.

I have a dog in hospice care at home (sweet, retired Chloe), and I am very likely involved in way… too… much. Finishing my dissertation, teaching four classes, volunteering at a number of places; the list goes on an on. Just color me tired. This tired woman, with turned-off filter, entered Giant grocery store on Thursday. Milo-bear (my current service dog from Fidos For Freedom, Inc.) was tired as well as we had just completed a long training at the county police academy and he had a fairly long demo (that he NAILED). I only needed to get a few things, and so encouraged Milo for a last push before heading home.

When I’m tired, I wobble. <ahem> Ok. I wobble all the time. However, I wobble MORE when I am tired! I had one of the smaller carts, Milo, cane, and enough time that I did not need to rush. This didn’t seem to matter. I was a mess. I even wobbled when I moved my field of vision from one shelf to another. Being late-deafened, I do not always hear things in a big, cavernous store with lots of tile and hard surfaces. I turned suddenly, and almost plowed into a man standing there shopping with one of those hand baskets. He threw up his hands and watched me wobble, screech (just a little), and grab for everything stationary in my vicinity.

No face plant (this time). I whooshed out a breath of air, and locked eyes with him and was getting ready to say, “Wow. That was close“. He beat me to airtime, however.

“Well you are more than a little pathetic today, aren’t you?” with a grin and twinkle in his eyes.

Now… I’m late-deafened. I often mishear things. My husband could tell you a thousand stories about WHAT I THOUGHT I HEARD. He’s one of the few voices I can hear on a telephone, and has never let me live it down when he called and said, “Dinner at six?” I misheard and thought he said, “Dinner and sex?” Maybe inside I was thinking, “yes, please“, mature adult that I was said, “Excuse me…?” Yeah. That one has been hard to live down.

So this smiling man with a twinkle in his eye standing there waiting for me to respond, may NOT have said, “Well you are more than a little pathetic today, aren’t you?” I had to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Maybe he said “phonetic“. Eh, likely not since I only screeched and had not said anything.

Maybe he said “poetic”. I could dream.

Maybe he said “prophetic“. Perhaps he sensed I was getting ready to assault him.

To clarify, I said, “Ummm, pathetic?”

“Yes”, he replied, “because you….” his voice cut off because at this point? I had my cane raised.

I poked him with it. HARD. I’M pathetic? You’re the pathetic piece of humanity standing there making snide comments about people who are a little different than you!” 

He rubbed his chest where I poked him, mumbled something that I’m not EVEN gonna pretend I heard well or understood, and wandered off. I sat there hyperventilating.

Milo-bear looked up at me like, “Are we done yet?” cool as a cucumber. Me? My cucumber was fried.

As I stood there wobbling and taking deep, calming breaths, I gave myself a pep talk that the guy likely just had a poor choice of words. He seemed friendly, nice even. I’m sure he didn’t mean the way it sounded… the way I took it. I even had the grace to ask God that if He brought me face-to-face with the man later in the store, I would apologize and try to explain how his comment made me feel. Thankfully, I did NOT run into him, because… well I wasn’t really wanting to apologize.

Yes. I should have just moved on, or perhaps even “only” blasted him with my “how pathetic are YOU” rebuttal. I need to keep my cane to myself. (Can you tell I am preaching to myself?) Who knows why he chose the words he did. I make poor choices all the time.

And I do mean ALL the time.

So perhaps I need to practice the “pause method” even more:

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Denise Portis

© 2016 Personal Hearing Loss Journal