Laying oneself completely bare...

While I hesitate to tell people, and I shudder to think what my extended family would think of me, probably wouldn't surprise the rest! I never hesitate to experience new things, even if I am afraid - terrified - to do so. I love to have my eyes opened up; living in a profound state of peace and that will never happen while being afraid of what others may think of you. I might not share it with everyone; not because I lie, hide or mislead. I need to be sensitive to the wonderful differences we all have, and I understand that other people are more afraid, or will not understand. That's fine, if they all did, how boring is our world? 

Mirroring Music Box and Neuroplastic Neural Networking...

Yes, I love aliteration! There have been many times in my life where I feel true insanity. Usually after long periods of hermit-itis, and long sleepless nights in Pain where I ponder my very existence and ability to withstand it. Then all of a sudden I crash into the world again (sometimes quite literally!) with a huge drought-ending outpouring of words, images, sketches, paintings; making huge leaps in my skills as I trust in my hands again. It's like an obsessive compulsion, I can barely control it, nor resist it. My head is screaming at me to 'shut the [insert choice word, multiple language] up' while I ramble like a crazy woman. I don't know if it is me trying to redirect people from seeing the rollator or batmobiel; that odd 'maybe talking will cloak it invisible...' idiocy! Or maybe I'm just nuts. I'm the queen of making an arse of myself, so... still the same person, I guess!

I'm working out this wild wild west of social media, where to put some sketches here or somewhere linked. There are particular sketches which I really want to share here from a neuroplasticity standpoint. Because, turns out... there's some freaky shit going on! Stuff I may not ever have noticed, or even learned without 16 years of doing some really hard work reframing my Pain and fighting the instinct of immobilisation. Gentle, flowing, MIRRORING arm movements from dance and discipline; lots of vain staring at myself in a mirror, moving and controlling. I was determined to fool the world into thinking I wasn't in pain or struggling to know where my arm was if I wasn't looking at it. Later, somewhere around 2009, I got my mirror box, so worked on it on and off. Honestly, I was less disciplined with this than dance, but all in all, the aim was the same. No one can see how much pain I am in. I want to be 'normal', not judged or treated any different. It was only the sharpest of eyes that detected anything was amiss, but it was subtle shift of dominant and non-dominant sides, brain connections rewired in strange ways, but working in ways that none of us could have predicted. 

This is both of my hands... sketched with both of my hands! Lefty sketched Righty, Righty sketched Lefty. Small differences,  but not so different that you can instantly tell what's up!  

Regarding work, and the greener grass...

Sometimes, people make thoughtless comments which affect me somewhat unexpectedly. I'm pretty thick-skinned now, so i'm not running off and crying about it. While i know there's no malice in these people's intent, i find myself going over these statements in my head. Pain has been playing havoc with my sleep lately; so going over shit in my head while i'm trying not to give attention to Pain isn't really helping me sleep. 

I've been feeling very strong in who I am. I've found my voice again, reaffirmed my power. I accept my disability more than I ever did before: it's not that I like being disabled, but what's the point of wishing for something that won't ever be possible? I made friends with Pain, Disability is just another member of this odd social group of mine. Pain is the whining, whinging, screeching complainer of the group that never shuts the hell up; Disability is the pain in the arse who always needs accommodating. It is like the one who can't just order something off a menu, but insists on ingredients being omitted, others being added; food prepared in a certain and annoyingly exact way and sent back if it's not. Disability is the Sheldon of my group! I hate being that one, I hate drawing this type of attention. The only attention I want is for that which I worked hard, or for the fun and lighthearted things in life. I wish my disability was my secret: invisible, hidden - my own business, not for others to see. Because it is not, all I can do is shield myself behind brashness and laughs; deflecting my own deep shame and embarrassment, as well as unknowingly offensive comments from well-meaning people.