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Thanks for visiting my diary. I've been journaling since 1984 and have chosen to share some of my entries online. They are not all positive thoughts, but I hope that reading them might be a blessing to someone who needs encouragement.
If you are just coming to my diary for the first time, please read my introductory entry, where I share some background that is important if you plan to follow this diary regularly.
Please also visit my music page, where you can hear samples from my debut CD, I Believe, which features songs written based on experiences shared in this journal.
I can only remember a few times when I got to be a kid, really. It was all over by the time I was 9. I remember now. In PE class, the other kids played ball and I couldn't play. The teacher said, "Give her a rope." I got to jump rope. Or playsomething else. I got to play by myself in a little tiny area out of the way of everyone else's game. I got to play by myself for a whole hour. I was glad when I was taken out of PE because my retinas could detach, but then I turned into a smart, "sedentary" girl.
I only got to run if someone helped me. I couldn't run by myself. I would run into things or break things. I couldn't even walk by myself. Someone had to show me how--a special teacher--and I had to use special things that people thought were weird. First it was the cane. I hated it because it didn't make me stop hitting people. It just gave me a good excuse to run into them. It was something people looked at and saw that I couldn't walk by myself. I was pathetic. Now it is Elli. And I even like Elli! But other people don't. Not when she sheds in their car or on their carpet. Not when she barked in the dorm.
I can't be me. There is no me. There is just a person who does what other people tell her to do, just the way they show her, in the exact place they put her. She can only go where she wants to go in her mind, and even that is nowhere now. She just watches other people in her mind. She watches the ones who are 16 and 17 and dance to that music she wishes she knew how to dance to. She watches the one who is 13 and stays in the background and doeseverything right, just like she's supposed to. She watches the one who's 11 and tries to play the little pranks she could never play because she couldn't see if she was about to get caught. You know, people hated her for that, for being the one who always followed the rules. The rules had to be followed. Otherwise, everyone would get in trouble.
She watches the little ones who play the way she used to play before she found out that big kids don't play that way. But shecan't play ball and ride bikes like big kids. And she can't put on makeup and look in the mirror and see she's pretty like the teenagers. No, someone else has to tell her if she looks pretty or if her blush makes her look like she has bruises on her face. Andher sister thinks she isn't wearing any blush, but her mom thinks it makes her look good! Somebody else has to tell her if the soft, flowy dress she likes looks like something from the 1920's and if she wears it people will talk to her even less. They already don't talk much, and if they talk less she might as well go live on a desert island. And what if she wanted the 1920's dress? Would her mom still love her even if she did look "like a granny"? That's why I hate makeup and shopping.
I watch the one who is 14 and wants to yell at the world about all this and tell them, "Stop trying to control me!" She never got to because she was always a good girl and never was rebellious. I watch the one who babysits the kids. I don't babysit kids now. My dog might bite them, you know, or they might get hurt because I can't watch them properly. I watch the ones who are 12 and 13 and go to camp. One of them is called Jenny. I knew when I was 13 that once there was an old lady named Jane and people called her Jenny. My middle name is Jane, and I like the name Jenny much better than Sarah. Jenny is a pretty name, and everyone likes people named Jenny. I'm too big to go to camp now, the only place where I could be myself, and I certainly can't be called Jenny. That isn't my name. I still hate my name.
I watch the one who is always nice and polite and answers whatever questions she's asked, like I am supposed to be nice and polite and answer questions and not give dirty looks. I watch the one who does not talk. I have to be quiet and not tell what is bothering me. I am "always having a crisis," and people don't want to hear it. I watch the ones who are adults--the teacher, the one who knows about laws and disabilities, the one who wants to be a therapist, and the one who sings and plays the piano. I wish I had the strength to be those adults.
I watch the ones who write. It's my writing--I know that. But I don't feel like it is my writing. I watch the ones who pray. I used to pray like that, but I feel like an empty shell now. I made praying parts because somehow I needed to keep praying, keepthe lines open with God, and maybe if I watch myself pray I can watch God answer and that way I can hang onto some faith.
I watch the one who is healing from the abusive dating relationship and trying to learn to be sexual and be a wife. I try sometimes to be her, but I don't know if I can. But I do try.
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