A Look into Dedication

This post will be funny to look at when you realize I don’t have any dedications to anything. I get to the beginner level of anything I’m not naturally good at and then I stop doing it. You see a lot if you go back through my life history. Knitting was fun (I made it to two small, small rows), drawing got tiring (I learnt faces and very detailed eyes), astrology is an baby interest that won’t go away (did you know having three planets in one house is called a stellium and that cusps mathematically aren’t real because the sun can’t be in two places at once so it’s really determined on the specifics of when you were born? Fun!)

Also, did you know I just changed my major to English?

My decisions are usually influenced by what I’m doing at the moment, so, over the summer, I worked at a movie theater so guess what that means? I wanted to be a filmmaker. I told literally anyone who would listen that I would change my major to something in Film and be so happy creating because creating is what I want to do so badly.

But my mind always floats back to writing.

I’ve been a psychology fan for so long. I’ve gone through all the motions of wanting to help people (children, specifically, because I felt, and still feel, like people don’t care too much about children’s mental health and then are left confused when told most problems in adulthood stem from childhood), then wanting to know about mental illness, then wanting to do my own research. My underlying problem is that I always want to stand out and I feel like, per my last parenthesis, it stems from my last blog post about never feeling like nothing more than a shadow of my mother. I’m nothing if not a circle backer.

But another way that I make my deciding decisions is if I come back to it, that means I really want to do it. I wanted to be a journalist in the 10th grade and wrote for the newspaper in the 11th grade, although nothing got posted because our advisor was sick and never in school, which also made it hard for the poor kids who were in his class. Writing for this blog and then the amount of nice comments from everyone, including Dr. Kate, made me a lot happier than anything has in a while. I like when people like my writing because this feels like such a natural talent and I really do blame it on learning to read early in Kindergarten. I think that reading so much and writing so much is such a fun way to spend my time, but I was always scared of a career in writing because I’ve never wanted to monetize my writing. I think now I know there’s a difference in writing for fun and writing for my job. I don’t think I’ll ever write something like this for fun unless I start another blog of my own. Every self blog never works out though, seeing as they get deleted after some months of inactivity.

Really, I’ve never stuck to a plan. I just run around in circles that get smaller and smaller while I pick up trinkets along the way like those coin machines in museums that really are only to get your precious coins and captivate the distractible minds of children. However, I have faith in this one because look! I came back to it.

So, here’s to sticking to this one.

Do I Have Permission?

Can I post this blog? Am I allowed to write about this topic? Is this a good topic?

Everyone is an individual who has the agency to do as they please. Some situations, certain locations, and laws change what people are able to do. If I could change the situations that people are in and be able to give agency, I would. I believe that people should have agency.

I, on the other hand, have a problem acting on my own.

I find myself asking for permission or notifying people about my actions. I’ve created a world for myself to ask people if I can do certain actions. I ask permission from my friends and family if it’s okay if I eat a certain food. I let people know I’m going to the bathroom even if it’s no one’s business. Everytime I want to buy something, I refer to my friends and mother. They always tell me the same three things: “It’s your money, get what you want”, “Do you think you need it?”, or “No, you would be better saving money for something else”. I know they will give me the same answers. My mind wants to have permission for the actions, feelings, and reasons I have.

It almost feels like my body isn’t mine. Or that I need permission to exist in the space I already take up. I resist myself to only do what I know what I’m allowed to do, and if I don’t know, I’ll ask. I can’t tell if it’s due to my identity and it’s intersectionality. Or due to how I grew up to be polite, so my body policed itself to be overly polite to always ask to make a move. Am I afraid to act because it will reflect all the people I represent? Or am I afraid to act because I’m afraid to be rude?

This all makes me realize I need to take agency back for me and my body. Don’t apologize for the space I take up or ask anyone if I need permission for space. I’m starting to break out of this mental shell. I start taking actions without trying to explain the reason behind my actions. I want to be better about asking to do stuff. I tend to ask if I can eat a certain food or if I’m allowed to sit in a certain spot. I want to be able to plan a whole day where I try not to ask anyone what I should do and if I should do it. I have a goal in mind to be more independent and not let myself lose agency.

Should I do it?

My Sweatshirt Prison

This summer I became head manager of an outdoor pool. I managed and created schedules, was tasked with instructing new lifeguards, and was expected to make sure pool safety and chemical measures were up to code. Between the patrons who came during the senior hours, or the little 15 year-olds working their first new jobs, I loved creating relationships, especially when for the past year I hadn’t met any new people. 

It was almost perfect, but the downside to being a lifeguard, is the visual representation that comes along with that is. When someone mentions lifeguard, my thoughts immediately go to Baywatch. Ripped shirtless guys, and skinny and curvy women, but I don’t fit that stereotype, and struggles came with that. When requesting a uniform, which my company provides for free, I fill out the styles and sizes of each piece of uniform I need. T-shirt, shorts, bathing suit, etc. The sizes range from XS-XXL. Luckily, my size falls into that category, but whenever I go to the office to pick up my uniform, it’s never in stock.

Lets Talk About Birth Control.

The growing topic of concern when it comes to safe sex. Birth control. These days there are many different types of contraceptives that can be used to help prevent pregnancy. To name a few, there is the pill, an IUD, a shot, a patch, and so many more. There are so many options, choosing one should be easy right? Not quite in some instances. Some questions that might arise when it comes to choosing a birth control could include, how much does it cost? Where can I get it? Is it hormonal? How effective is it? And those are just some questions that scratch the surface of obtaining birth control.

To speak for myself, I have been on birth control from a very young age, about 8^th grade to be exact. Just to be clear, I went on it for medical reasons. I had very irregular periods, so my doctor prescribed me birth control to regulate my menstrual cycle. In my experience, it was basically a no brainer to go on the pill because it was easy, efficient, and I didn’t really think about the effects it might have on my body in the future. It wasn’t until I got to high school that I learned about all of the other methods that my friends used. I also have recently been seeing Tik Toks about some experiences of women going off hormonal birth control and how, in their opinion, it made their lives so much better.

Nobody’s body reacts the same way to birth control, so it is solely your decision which type you chose, if any! I think that hearing other’s stories can help to spark questions about what you feel is best for your health, but ultimately, it is up to YOU. In my opinion at least.

Different types of birth control. https://www.insider.com/how-to-pick-a-birth-control-2017-11

social (un)distancing

As a psych major, studying behavior has in part what I enjoy most about learning psychology and the inner-workings of people’s minds. So, I’ve always been a people person. I find it natural to strike up a conversation with someone and not have it be awkward. I wish that could be a skill to put on my resume. After the pandemic, it has been a little hard to get back to the groove of studying behaviors since my own worst subject was myself and watching me go through hours upon hours of toxic behaviors towards myself was enough. I was lonely. I had missed the connections that I had made and was going to make that first year of being here at UMBC pre-COVID. Once they announced that everyone would come back to campus, I was excited but apprehensive, because after all we are still in a pandemic. But, it’s crazy to say that coming back to campus after a year or so has opened up a new wave of psychological behaviors and subjects to study from.

My Cat, the Asshole

Two months ago, my boyfriend and I adopted our first cat together. I have never owned a cat before, and was never really comfortable around them despite always wanting one. My boyfriend had had a family cat, but had not had much experiencing taking care of it as he took care of the family dog. We thought about waiting a few months, as we had just moved in together the month prior and knew owning a cat was a big commitment. But then, we saw him: Noodles. He was three months old and had been returned to his adoption agency as he was being bullied by the other cats at his home. I applied for approval to adopt, and was accepted the same day we first saw his picture. That very afternoon, we took him home.

Now, we knew that this was not the most responsible thing to do. We had been googling and talking to cat owners for a bit to get an idea of what to expect, how to take care of him, and the financial responsibility of his care. But when we held him for the first time and he fell asleep in our arms, we knew he was the one. You may be thinking, “Well, this seems pretty sweet so far. How does this make him an asshole?” and dear reader of this blog, I will tell you.

Noodles has grown quiet comfortable here in his new home, which we are both grateful for. He is also a kitten, so he is extremely playful. I want to share a list of the good, and the bad, my boyfriend and I have discovered while owning a cat.

The Good: the right cat will cuddle you endlessly, curling up on your body no matter where it may be. I’ve woken up multiple times with a three pound furry weight on my chest that I’m always too tired to move. The first meows he does in your presence will melt your heart into a puddle. His fur will be your new face mask, and his toe beans will rest in your fingers for hours. As an added bonus, our cat plays fetch AND murders bugs for us. I see this as a win-win. He explores on his own, he eats when he wants, and he poops in a box. Owning a cat is extremely easy if you have patience and love to give, and we have plenty. He will be your bestfriend on the worst days, and will follow you anywhere- even in our case, into the shower.

The Bad: reader of this post, do you enjoy sleeping peacefully at night in the comfort of your bed? Well guess what? It’s biting time, bitch. Say goodbye to ever laying under a blanket without teeth sinking into your feet. Own a cat? Invest in band-aids. You will find cuts you didn’t even know you had. While the biting it painful, the claws are worse. It is playful to have a cat nibble on you, but if you’re not expecting it then it is startling. You can no longer go to the bathroom in private, as your personal lap warmer needs to be there with you. If you get lucky, he’ll sit in your pants that are resting at your ankles instead of on your bare thighs. The loving meow now turns into your alarm clock, usually around 3 am and 6 am- hours before you even wake up. Learn what the meaning of “zoomies” is, and prepare to piss your pants every five minutes when the cat has them. Also, at least once in your life, your cat WILL fall into the shower with you. When it happens, you’ll know the meaning of Naked and Afraid. The cat and fear are your new bestfriends.

If you want my advice, adopt a cat. It will be one of the best, and most terrifying, choices you’ll ever make. He will be the love of your life, and the bane of your existence.

A Brief History of Disability in School Settings

In class we talked about defining disability and Shakespeare’s “Social Model of Disability”. However, there was one line in the Shakespeare piece that really stuck with me, “In our view, it is society which disables physically impaired people. Disability is something imposed on top of our impairments, by the way we are unnecessarily isolated and excluded from full participation in society. Disabled people are therefore an oppressed group in society” (Tom Shakespeare). The piece also went on to talk about social problems “as an added burden faced by people with impairment” (Tom Shakespeare). The discussion in class resonated with what I’ve been learning in one of my other classes and I thought I should share.

I am currently taking PSYC 365, or Psychology of Children with Disabilities. My teacher grew up with a disability as a child and shared her first hand experience. Prior to 1975 kids with major disabilities regardless of mental or physical were not considered entitled to an education. So often times that meant those kids could not go to school. Schools weren’t made with elevators to help those kids, there was no hallway buddy system for kids with crutches, there was nothing. There were no accommodations or support put in place to even help those kids get from class to class. If you could not physically get yourself to class then you weren’t able to go. Personally growing up in the 2000s it’s hard to believe that those kids missed out on so much and it was somehow “okay” . I think alot of us take for granted something as simple as going to grade school.

Finally, in 1975 the federal government signed a huge act that basically said that all children have the right to a free education. Previously, there were no requirements for schools to help these children. Although, we have a ways to go it’s crazy to think how much things have changed even from the 70s. As of 2006 developmental screening for all kids is recommended (should be required but it’s a work in progress) at 9, 18, and 24/30 months of age. These check ins or screening visits are done at the pediatrician. The point of these check ins is to help any child who may be in need as early as possible. This is also known as early intervention. Some of the most popular tests used for developmental screening include the PEDS, ASQ-3, and M-CHAT. The M-CHAT is fairly popular because it’s free and takes very little time. Each state has a lead agency responsible for helping kids with disabilities and their families. Maryland has one of the best programs called “Infants & Toddlers” and it’s at no cost to families. Many other states charge public or private insurance. Also, note the program is to support kids and their families. I attached the link below for anyone who would like to take a look.

https://marylandpublicschools.org/programs/Pages/Special-Education/MITP/index.aspx

Sources:

Children with Disabilities 8th Edition

Batshaw M.D., Mark,Roizen M.D., Nancy,Pellegrino M.D., Louis,Peterson, Nancy,Twomey, Catherine

The Modern Asylum

            When I was in high school, I was admitted to Sheppard Pratt for mental health related issues. I was not doing well and was seeking professional treatment. However, this is not at all what I received from one of the “top 10 psychiatric hospitals in the nation.”

            I was 17 years old and put in a group for adolescents ages 12-17. This alone was an isolating experience as I was nearly an adult and expected to contribute to group therapy with children just starting middle school. Participation was mandatory but anything shared was immediately used against you and could even result in punishment. If anyone mentioned that they had previously engaged in any drug use, self-harm or other negative coping mechanisms, the group leaders would humiliate and lecture them during group. The smallest emotional reaction would result in getting sent out to the “quiet room” to sit there by yourself until one of the group leaders thought it would be okay for you to return. The explanation for this is that your time in isolation was supposed to help you calm down and relax but it felt more like being put in a time out corner.

            We were pat down every day and our pockets were checked before we could go to our small groups. We could not have shoelaces, use pencils with erasers or pens. We were not allowed to sit close to one another or socialize. During lunch we had to sit a few feet apart from one another and watched the move RV (by the end of my time there I swear I saw it about 10 times). We were threatened to be sent to the more intensive unit if we did not get better. These threats were often incorporated with stories of children screaming and resisting as they had to be restrained and sent off. I do understand that some of these rules and regulations exist to prevent people from causing harm to themselves or others but much of it felt like imprisonment and it definitely did not create a comfortable environment to get well in.

            One of my worst experiences there was a few days into my stay when a 12-year-old who was taken there on the “bus” with me (I say bus in quotations because that’s how it was referred to, but it was really just a Ford Flex with like 3 kids in it) privately reported to the administrators that I was smoking cigarettes on the bus. When they heard this, they sent three adults to pull me out of group in front of everyone and take me into a private room where they forced me to strip down into my underwear in search of these cigarettes I was accused of possessing. I was sobbing as I had to get practically naked in front of multiple strangers who were reprimanding me the entire time. I had not smoked on the bus and I did not have any cigarettes on me. When they found none, they told me to get dressed and return to group, barely giving me time to wipe my tears. Later, during my family meeting, my social worker had informed my family and I that these administrators did not ask the driver or any of the other children in the car before searching me. If they had taken time to fact check the information given to them by a child, the search would have never happened. I also was confused at the whole situation because logically it would be impossible for me to role down a window and smoke a cigarette without the driver noticing and I’m sure if I did, he would have reported it himself.

            I left my time in the hospital feeling even more hopeless than I was when I arrived. When you are struggling with mental illness there is so much general encouragement to go to therapy, to go get help but what are you supposed to do when that help fails you? Because I was mentally ill, I was treated as incompetent and felt stripped of my autonomy. None of the professionals there respected me as a person. It was humiliating and dehumanizing. I know that my experience is not an isolated one, nor the worst I’ve ever heard of. Many of my friends who were sent away for residential treatment were subjected to physical punishment and abuse. It is taught as though the mental asylum model where mentally ill and disabled people were subject to torture and neglect is just a thing of the past. Although a lot of methods and practices formally used in these institutions are now illegal, it is still very legal for minors to be abducted in the night by transporters and sent states away to mental institutions. It is still very legal for mentally ill individuals to be kept in cramped dorm rooms with little to no privacy. It is still legal to cut off an institutionalized child’s communication to the world.

https://www.change.org/p/uinta-academy-shut-down-uinta-academy?recruiter=1168438379&recruited_by_id=af5c1df0-3b59-11eb-bf46-53ef0bb26e3b&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=copylink&utm_campaign=petition_dashboard

This link is a petition to close down one of the residential treatment centers a friend of mine attended involuntarily. Please sign! The comments show a lot of the experiences individuals have had there.

Earthseed

I got a tattoo last week. It’s the word “Earthseed” on my upper right arm. The tattoo is referencing work by Octavia E. Butler, a science fiction writer who dreamed up (or remembered?) what would be left after capitalism has devastated the planet. I read her book Parable of The Sower in the midst of the pandemic, in the midst of mass death as a result of the centering of profit over human life.

am I disabled or just unable?

content warning: internalized ablism

I’ve never considered myself disabled. I excelled in school and when I didn’t, it was because I just didn’t put in enough effort. I didn’t do the homework. I didn’t study. I looked pretty and skinny, and therefore healthy, and when I hurt, it was because I wasn’t careful. I didn’t watch where I was walking. I didn’t exercise enough.