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When People with Differences Hate on People with Differences


Hello!

I hope you are enjoying life right now. I am glad it is sunny and around 72 degrees outside in Washington, D.C. today. Of course, I am stuck at my desk. But at least I can look out of the window. Haha. Anyway, I had trouble falling asleep the past 3 nights. When my mind won’t shut off, I medicate myself. I know– so not healthy to do, but I’ll either take Tylenol PM or Mucinex 12 hour syrup. Those 2 medications work wonders. They worked so well though that I ran out of them, dammit! So there I go at around 10:00pm the other night scrambling to find something that would put my mind at ease and allow me to sleep in peace. The only thing I found crowded in with all of my health and beauty products was NyQuil PM. So I took a shot of NyQuil. Well that worked until 4:00am the last two nights. Then from 4:00am on, I was wide awake. Which is fine. I got to record my video for Youtube without my dog, Belle, or my fiance, Jason, walking around in the background. Last night however, after I tucked myself in to bed with a shot of NyQuil, I lied there thinking about the most random things. A memory from when I was 10 years old popped into my head. I actually think about this memory more often than I ever thought I would and I feel compelled to share it with you. So the story goes like this…

It’s early afternoon, I am getting back into the swing of things at school after my fire accident. I have 3rd degree thick red burn scars all over my chin and part of my cheek and 1st and 2nd degree burns on the rest of my face. I don’t exactly look like your average happy 10 year old kid. I got that. I understood that I was different looking. I expected adults to treat me better, but in most cases, they were the absolute meanest people to me. Well, little did I know that I not only had adult haters, but I also had adult haters with disabilities! Every other month, my school would gather in the gym to watch a performance of some sort. This time around, a team of handicap basketball players came to play basketball and show off all kinds of neat tricks. They were trying to teach kids that you can do whatever you set your mind to and that in the end, regardless of how we look, we are all in fact humans and ultimately the same underneath. What a sweet lesson to teach, right?

Thirty minutes into the game, the Manager of the team went around to pick students to volunteer and play basketball with the team in wheelchairs. I saw all of my fellow classmates raise their hands so high for the chance to play, so I then thought I would raise my hand a little. Of course, the Manager found my slightly risen burned hand in the air and chose me to get out there into a wheel chair and play with the team. I shyly went out onto the court, and when I got into my wheel chair I noticed some of the guys on the team looking at me with disgust on their faces. I ignored it and began rolling around in the chair. The game began and everyone was rolling around and the ball got tossed to me. I got excited, placed the ball in my lap and began rolling around in the wheel chair looking for a person to pass the ball to—the person I wanted to pass to immediately rolled away from me. I then turned to my left and tried to pass it to someone else and this guy still had a weird look on his face from even the sight of me, so finally I decided to just make a shot—- and of course, as my life goes– I threw an air ball. I was immediately then escorted out of my chair and told to go back to my seat with the other students where I proceeded to get made fun of by a few male classmates.

This memory makes me laugh now, but also has me confused. Why in the world were handicap people disgusted by me? Shouldn’t we all be on the same team? Team Different! But the truth is, we are all human and there are certain things that gross us out and sometimes, we only think about how grossed out we are, and sometimes we show it on our faces, and even sometimes we have verbal diarrhea and say something completely messed up or inappropriate out loud. I try to be as non judgmental of people’s physical traits because I am in fact a burn victim. I’m sure when I say something, people are probably thinking, “umm you are one to talk, Crissy.” So I prefer to keep my opinions to myself and remind myself that we are all human, we all judge and we all react in different ways. It’s okay. But please when you catch yourself showing your facial expressions of disgust or saying things, think about the people around you that you affect. While I am so used to people staring at me, saying things, etc, I can’t help but let it affect me for a minute before I move on to the next thought. But that memory will be implanted in my head. No one is perfect. No point in being mean. All it ends up doing is making yourself look bad or insecure. So moral of the story– there is no Team Different. We are all human underneath. I guess the basketball players were teaching the right lessons after all.

 

Love my Readers! Have a great day!!

The Ugliest Girl on the Bus Goes Round and Round, All Day Longggg!

Hey!

Now that Press & hype from my episode of Botched is dying down, I figure that only the people who really want to know what it’s like to live a day in my shoes and not hear about the PG version per se, will be the ones reading from here on out. I will begin detailing moments from my personal life in hopes of having people who relate to me, talk about it and let me know that I am not alone. Then we can begin spreading the word of the Gospel- just kidding– just spreading words of love for everyone and teaching people that being a good person and shining from the inside, out makes so much more of an impact then being mean or negative.

I want to share with you a story about a REALLY mean person from my past. Think back to the time when you were in middle school. Now add, a few zits, slightly spread apart teeth, changing hormones, average body size, and a thick red scar on your chin. While I was SO lucky to have a close knit group of friends who happened to be popular in middle school, it was so hard to try to be normal when I would walk in the hallways, and random people would point at me and say, “Eew! That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen!” Or, they would jump back against the wall when I walked by for fear that if they got near me, they would ‘catch’ what I had. Those moments kept reminding me that I was no longer that innocent and naive 10 year old girl without a scar. I was now a ‘monster’, ‘freak,’ and ‘ugly’.

One day in particular stands out. I was on the bus ride home. The bus was packed as usual. Out of no where, one of the loud kids on the bus yells, “who do you guys think is the ugliest person on the bus?” And without a flinch, he screeched, “HER” as he pointed to me. Several kids on the bus mouths dropped when they saw where the finger was pointed. Even they knew that what he said was awful. Especially since I was nice to everyone. When he pointed to me, all I did was get up from my seat, face still red, and walked to the front of the bus to take a seat. I was mortified and wanted to burst into tears but I couldn’t for fear of being even more the ‘center of attention.’ I sat in silence the rest of the bus ride and when I got home, I walked to my bedroom and just cried.

Cut to a few years later and I was 16 years old. I see this asshole at a party! Of course, I strategically hid my scar when I saw him– scared that he would point me out again in front of everyone. I tried at all costs to avoid him at the party actually, but as the night wore on, I couldn’t avoid him any longer. I felt his eyes on me throughout the party. He came up to me as I was standing by the CD player, tapped me on my shoulder, smiled, and asked if I knew of a good song to play next. I realize then, that he didn’t recognize me. Those eyes staring at me were that of a boy who seemed interested in me. He continued to be flirtatious with me as I mumbled a few words out about music. Within a minute or two though, I just walked away into another room and stood in the dark. I had a wide range of emotions. I really hope he doesn’t recognized that it’s me. Am I the one who is laughing last? Nope–because there I was, at a party with a basement full of scar-less teenagers, alone in the dark– and when I was ready to show my face outside again, he was gone.

In the end, nobody won.