You know that moment in time when you’re just learning to swim? The water is slapping against the edge of the pool in a rhythmic pattern. Voices echo back and forth through the cavernous space. Laughter tinkles on the air… and yet you can’t quite hear any of it because your heart is pounding in your ears. The fear squeezes at your throat… but you aren’t one to give in to your fears. You swallow down that anxiety and take one deep breath before you duck your head under the water and push off of the wall.
It feels amazing… the water gliding over your body… the feel of weightlessness and freedom. Your strokes are confident as you traverse the shallow end, and then you take… one... two... three more strokes. You are so proud of yourself! You have pushed farther than you ever have before, but your arms are tired and your lungs are burning with the need for air. So you stop to let your feet float down to support you… Only you have gone just too far. Your head dips down, and water rushes into your mouth as you gasp in surprise. The tip of your big toe reaches the bottom at the exact same moment that your face goes under. You push back up, coughing and sputtering. Your arms are flailing, and your feet kick out sharply... floundering. That's what we call it in swimming terms. Not quite drowning, but definitely not on solid ground.
This is the story of my life... floundering.
October 13th, Friday
Preface:
I don't know if diaries usually have a preface, but I figured that this diary needed one to explain to future generations that I am writing this AGAINST MY WILL!
My mom came to 'have a talk' with me after several hours of being 'sent to my room.' She had her mouth all scrunched up in that 'I thought better of you' mixed with a touch of worried 'not you too.' I guess I get that since I am supposedly one of the normal kids around here.
She said after a little throat clearing and a brisk pat on my knee, and I quote, "Lauren, I understand that you are... that you feel out of place. I know that living in our family has its challenges, but that doesn't give you the right to..," Some more throat clearing before her eyes looked back up into mine with a spark of anger in them, "Well, it doesn't give you the right to embarrass your family, like you did."
Yes, she used the word embarrass! My mouth must have dropped open because her eyes just squinted more determinedly, before she went on. "Don't you even start! We are all in this together, whether you like it or not, and the sooner you realize that; the faster your life won't feel like... how did you put it? A freak show?" She used actual air quotations to make me feel the full impact of my words... and I did.
She just sat there for what felt like forever, letting those words sink to the bottom of my stomach with a heavy thud. I knew I was in the wrong, but weren't they in the wrong when they went off and collected every weird kid from all of the corners of the earth, instead of giving their own kids a nice, normal life? Yeah, I guess that might sound petty, but I’m feeling a deep streak of petty, right now.
I just sat there with my legs crossed in front of me, hugging my pillow, unable to say anything... just waiting for the consequences of my actions to fall on my head. Mom gave an almost imperceptible nod after she had determined that I properly felt the weight of my actions and said the words I truly dreaded, "This is for your own good."
First of all, never believe anyone that says "I only want world peace," or "It's not you, it's me," or especially, "This is for your own good." They are all lying through their teeth! Those words are a sure sign that whatever punishment you were expecting is actually going to be ten times worse than anything you could ever dream up on your own... and it was, in a very evil-genius type of way.
So, these are the terms of my punishment:
1) I am to write in this stupid diary every day up until, but not including, Christmas (It was really nice of her to give me the holiday off :P). I can’t write about just anything I want to, though. No, no. I have to include stuff about my family... my memories, my experiences, my feelings and all of that touchy-feely stuff that will help me to come to terms with any 'issues' I might have. (Yes, she did use the phrase ‘come to terms with’ and mini air quotes for ‘issues’.)
2) I am to write one true thing at the end of each entry. Something that I have learned on my own... that no one else has told me to believe. (I personally don't get it, but whatever.)
3) Lastly, I am to help with my sister's Special Olympics class. It’s coming up in a week or so, and I have just been volunteered to be a ‘volunteer’ for three weeks. (Just what I need in my life... more ‘special’ people.)
Some of you FGs (future generations) out there are thinking that this doesn't sound so very awful. Oh, but that's where you would be wrong. I think that I will have to give you a little history lesson in tomorrow's entry.
On a side note, I think that it is beyond ironic that I should finally have a melt down on Friday the 13th.
Sincerely,
A Freak
Truth: Whoever it was that said "Always look on the bright side of life" never had to deal with my life… in which there are no bright sides.
October 14th, Saturday
It is Saturday today, and the family has gone off to the park for a little fresh air and sunshine. Mom and Dad decided that it was perhaps best to give me a day to sulk before submitting me, or maybe themselves, to public humiliation again.
I have to say that the utter silence is kind of eerie. I am so used to noise... any noise; whether it is the clanking of the constant dishes being done or the never ending rumble of the washer and dryer churning away or even just Tommy's mouth breathing. I never knew that our home was capable of such silence.
Anyway, I have promised you a history lesson today... the evolution of my family. So, here goes…
Once upon a time, I have heard, there lived a nice, normal family. The family had a sporty dad, a bookish mom and four energetic children; three girls and one chubby-cheeked boy. Nice and normal. Then the bookish mom laid down the law: No more children if you (sporty dad) are going to gallivant off into the wilderness and leave me to raise them all. For I (bookish mom) am no lady in a shoe. Sporty dad and bookish mom ‘discussed’ this for many years while he needed to sleep on the couch because of ‘back problems’.
Then bookish mom had a dream of another chubby-cheeked boy. Sporty dad's back got better and they had one more boy, but it was not the same one from bookish mom's dream. So, she went to a place that displayed many pictures of chubby-cheeked boys and girls, who had no bookish moms or sporty dads… and eventually she found the little boy from her dream. Less than nine months later, chubby cheeked boy number three showed up in their little home. Six bundles of joy seem like plenty enough for most, but bookish mom had another dream, but of quite a different little boy this time.
One more trip to the gallery of lost children and he was found. No chub to the cheeks of this lost little boy, but no less loved in the arms of bookish mom and not-so-very-sporty-anymore dad.
Several more dreams later and bookish mom had another bundle from her belly. More dreams, phone calls from strangers, pleadings from agencies, and bundles of joy later and I was born. Number sixteen in the long line forming at the dinner table. I certainly wasn't the last to join the family. No, there were nine more younger than I. Twenty-five in all, plus bookish mom and not-so-very-sporty-anymore dad. The nice normal family had stretched and bent and contorted into something completely unrecognizable.
The part that I have not yet bothered to mention is that the majority of the collected kids came with issues. That is the nice way of saying that they were mentally or physically challenged. Blind, Down Syndrome, paraplegic, Lowes Syndrome, abused, or just plain slow; they were all different types from all different places.
Here is a guide to help you keep it all straight…
Dad- 52. Works for the Park and Rec department. Enjoys hunting, fishing, camping, canoeing… You get the gist of it. Loves kids and acting like a goof ball, but not to be crossed when it comes to his family.
Mom- 50. Has a degree in Elementary Ed, but works instead as a fulltime domestic engineer (Some would call it being a stay-at-home Mom, but it practically takes an engineering degree to keep our home running smoothly). Loves to read and cuddle with her kids, but she is the law in the house.
Marie- 32. The oldest of our motley crew. Married with two kids and another on the way. Lives in Idaho (close to several of our other siblings). Has a flare for the dramatic. Stephanie- 30. Married with four kidlets (one set of twins). Happy as can be!
Claire- 29. Single, Real Estate Agent in Cali. Dating a super hot guy who adores her. Also has the best collection of shoes I have ever seen.
Adam- 27. Currently in South America helping to set up clean water systems for small towns. Divorced, single-dad of the cutest little boy. Has a heart of gold, but doesn’t know a dang thing about the opposite sex.
Emily- 26. Is of American Indian decent. Adopted when she was fourteen out of foster-care at the same time as her brother Isaac. She is a single-mother of two little girls and lives in Nevada.
Ana- 25. Hales from Chicago. Ana was the fifth to be adopted into our clan. She came to us with a super sharp brain and arms and legs that refused to work properly. She is married to a great guy and works as a dispatcher for a company in Utah.
Isaac- 25. Emily’s blood brother. Adopted at thirteen. He has never really come to terms with his past, and is currently claiming residence at the state penitentiary in Eastern Oregon.
Dillon- 24. Tall, blond, and handsome. Originally from Montana. He is the most like our dad even though he was actually the first adopted kid into our family. He just married a single-mom of two kids and lives in Idaho.
Ryan- 24. Just graduated with a masters from U of O. Dating a tall, willowy, blond girl… He is totally twitterpated. He is working on the coast teaching some sort of special math class to the coast guard.
Leah- 23. The third little one to be adopted. Leah is my hero. She has thick glasses, is technically mentally challenged, and has no sense of style; but she has not sat back and taken whatever the world throws at her. She worked her way out of the special ed classes, is putting herself through accounting school in Utah, and dates way more than I do.
Thomas- 23. Number four to be adopted into our fam. He was only a couple years old when he came to us and came with a speech impediment, a mental challenge, and a charm that would easily make you assume that neither existed. He lives in Washington and works as a greeter for a company up there.
Grace- 21. Grace is the daughter with a dimple. She is one of the few of us that actually knows what it’s like to hang out with the cool crowd… But now she has gone off and abandoned us to attend college in Utah.
Zoey- 20. Super sweet Zoey. Autistic. She was the sixth to be adopted and loves absolutely everyone unconditionally. Her learning curve slowed by the time she was six or seven, but that hasn’t stopped her. She lives in a home for special needs ladies in Idaho and works hard at a retail store stocking clothes. She saves up and takes trips to places like Hawaii and Disneyland with her group. And she always sends me a card on my birthday.
Jacob- 19. Graduated two years ago. He has left his legacy behind him of fabulous grades and perfect attitude. He is at the U of O earning his degree in Architecture. I love him and all, but he has not made my life easier by being so perfect.
Mason- 19. Was the tenth to be adopted. He came from the foster care system when he was a young teen and carried a chip on his shoulder until he left home a year or so ago. Nobody really knows where he is at right now.
Lauren- Me- 17. What’s there to say? I am average height with average looks and above average grades (because it is the one thing that I can control in my life).
Dexter- 17. Dexter is from just a couple of hours north of us. He was actually the second to be adopted. He has mild Down Syndrome, a speech impediment, and a bad attitude about everything.
Eden- 16. Oh, Eden. Eden would be a perfectly normal, crazy teen except for her lack of arms and half of one leg. She was adopted kid number nine.
Matthew- 16. Matt is blind, paraplegic, has a learning disability, and is obsessed with girls’ hot legs. He came from Mexico to Texas and then on to us with his twin sister Mattie.
Mattie- 16. Mattie is also blind with a more obvious learning disability. Along with her Hispanic dark looks, she brought her beautiful singing voice to the family.
Charlotte- 15. She is terribly smart, impishly cute with her librarian glasses, and practically lives inside the books she is never without.
Tommy- 14. He came from Boise with a suitcase and a smile when he was just a toddler. Tommy has Down Syndrome, but he could outsmart each one of us.
Steven- 13. Steven came from the south when he was a few years old. He was number eleven in the long line of adoptees. He is autistic and has Lowes Syndrome (a disease that messes with the eyes, brain, and kidneys). This is the cause of his almost comatose state (which he is in more than half the time) and his super thick glasses.
James- 12. Oy! Talk about a tween boy. He smells like a stray dog that has been left out in the rain for a few days and is just starting to dry out, loves legos, and has no qualms about embarrassing himself and his entire family.
Hanna- 11. Hanna was the last one to come to us. She came from New York when she was still a baby. She has Down Syndrome, but is so different in personality from Tommy and Dexter. She is all sugar and spice and all that is nice… unless you make her do something she doesn’t want to do.
Now, don't get me wrong, I don't feel that any of us don't belong to this family. We are what we are. Does that make sense? Sometimes it is the fact that I will forever be a freak by association to our circus of a family, never judged to just be me, for me… A sideshow.
I feel it all even more now that I am the oldest at home. Most of my older siblings have gone off to college or married, and some have even gone to live in group homes that give special needs people a chance to live and work in society. I am truly jealous of them all (well almost all)! I am just counting down the months until my freedom… Eight to be exact.
Tomorrow, I might as well tell you how I discovered that I was a freak by association.
Sincerely,
Freak #16
Truth: Silence is far more damning than any words that can be said because you can hear your conscience talking to you.
October 15th, Sunday
I woke up this morning feeling gritty-eyed and grumpy. My time alone did nothing to lift my spirits, and now I feel like a leper in my own home. It’s not that anyone is doing anything obvious. It’s just that… well, no one will quite look me in the eye, no smiles… and the worst of it is that everyone is so stinking polite.
With all of this politeness I have decided that I would rather suffer the silence of my room. So, here I am sequestered with nothing to do but write in this stupid journal. I promised a story, and that is what I will give…
A long, long time ago, in a place just down the road… I thought I was like any other kid growing up. I never dreamed that I was weird; I just assumed that everyone else in the world had twenty or so kids in their families too.
I had just turned ten a week or so before… I remember because I had received a Barbie for my birthday, and I was convinced that I was far too old for one. Anyway, my family decided to go to the local swimming pool with its leaky roof, super high water slide and $5 family discount night. It was on this night that I discovered the truth about my family.
His name (somehow all great truths are discovered in the presence of a boy) was Lucas Dean Jackson, and I had just discovered that he had dreamy, blue eyes and a mesmerizing smirk that lifted just enough of his mouth to look happy about something but still cool at the same time. He happened to sit three rows up and one seat to my left in home room. In case you were wondering, that is the perfect daydreaming distance.
We never really had much to talk about until this particular day when we were reseated alphabetically. I rejoiced in the fact that there were so few last names in the world that started with I, and his began with J. The H's and the J's sat next to each other. It was surely a sign that we were meant to be together (sigh).
My hopes were so high. We could have discussed the difference between blue-green and green-blue crayons during art, drilled each other on the continents and oceans in social studies, or even expounded on our distaste for cursive ‘B’s in the middle of handwriting. The opportunities for him to find out how truly awesome I was were endless.
So, it was on the very evening of our reseating that the stars aligned. When I came out of the locker room, I spotted him across the pool. The industrial lighting glinted off the pool and seemed to sparkle around him. Lucas was hanging out with some of his friends from school in the deeper end; while I was assigned to watch my littlest sister Hanna.
Now, Hanna had not yet turned five and although she sported the adorable upturned nose and chubby cheeks, common to Down Syndrome kids, along with sprightly curls that bounced around her head, and she eagerly said, "I love you!" at the slightest provocation, I would have given anything to be able to hang out with anyone cooler. Did I mention that she also had a GINORMOUS aversion to water?
I was staring off at Luke's dreamy (nonexistent) biceps while tugging Hanna into the shallow end. Hanna was tugging furiously back on my hand and staring fearfully at the water. And Lucas, yes Lucas, was looking anywhere but back at me.
It all seemed to happen simultaneously, in the exact next moment. Hanna let out a glass-shattering screech and went into full tantrum mode. Her foot slipped off of the first step, and she went flying, arms and legs flailing, into the shallow water. The life guard was running and blowing his stupid, ear-piercing whistle. And for the first time ever, Lucas Dean Jackson noticed me. I clearly read the words coming from his mouth… My sister splashing furiously around me. The life guard was yelling and whistling. And my face was turning even more beet red. Even though I couldn’t hear them, the words hit me like a punch to my gut… "What… a… freak!"
That was it. It was in that precise moment that I knew I was, and always would be, a freak. Believe me that school for the two months following 'the incident' was sheer torture. I saw the side glances and snickering friends. Being a freak was impossibly hard to bear for a gawky ten year old... especially from the only boy she had ever felt her heart stutter for.
Sincerely,
Freak by association
Truth: Freak is not a four letter word, even though it feels like one sometimes.
October 16th, Monday
Arriving at school is always a big production for my family. We pull up in our bright red Ford Econoline van (extended version) to the handicap parking spot right up front. A wheel chair is pulled out for Matt… blind, paraplegic, and flirts like crazy with all of the girls. Eden works her way out next… leading with her prosthetic leg while carefully balancing because of her lack of arms. Mattie, Matt's twin who is also blind… mentally challenged and has the voice of an angel, carefully steps out of the van and holds tightly to Eden's shoulder. Out pops my sister Charlotte… she is 'normal' except for the book perpetually attached to the end of her nose. Dexter… built like a line-backer, slightly mentally challenged but mostly just mad at the world, slumps out and immediately wanders off toward his class. Then Tommy… he may have Down syndrome, but he ain't stupid. And finally me.
Mom waves and yells messages of love mixed with reminders to behave as she drives off to deposit two more at middle school and then Hanna to her elementary class.
There is no escaping the looks from newcomers and visitors, but the eyes of the general population of Lincoln High tend to glaze over at the sight of anyone different. It is as if I have on an invisibility cloak when I am pushing Matt along the crowded hallways. I have been tempted to dump a freezing cold, blue-raspberry slushie over Lucas' head during just such a moment just to see if I really am invisible again.
Matt, Mattie, and Tommy are deposited to the special ed wing of our school, and Eden bounces off to make people notice her. Charlotte, in her absent minded way, then wanders off toward the library for another batch of books.
I stood in the hall today and watched as I became visible once again. Josh from Biology stopped by me, "Hey, did you catch all of the notes on Friday? I hear Mr. Lundie is going to give us a pop quiz."
Another girl, Jennifer from Spanish, gave me a head nod as she walked past, "Hey."
I bit my cheek to keep from screaming that I was the same person that had just walked past them three minutes before. Nothing about me had changed... just who I was with.
Sincerely,
Harriet Potter
Truth: No matter what Forrest Gump says, life is not like a box of chocolates, filled with delicious surprises. Life is like a pop quiz, you may never know what you are going to get, but the chances are good you won't like it.
October 17th, Tuesday
I have become accustomed over the years to the very distinct line that has been drawn between my friends. There are my school friends that are all too eager to talk with me on my own at school, but they shy away from any conversations while my siblings are around. These people are not mean or rude or anything like that; they just don't know. They don't know that you are allowed to act normal around people that don't look exactly like you.
Then you have my close friends. These are people that have been to the chaos of my house and survived to come again. My few close friends know that my whole family is crazy, and yet they still have stuck around long enough to like me for me. Weird, huh?
Amy is the closest of my friends by far. She came over today to study for history, and when I say ‘study for history’ I mean that my super-cute neighbor is back from college, and she wants to stare at him doing yard work shirtless from my bedroom window.
The instant she stepped through the front door my brother Matt perked up, "Lauren?"
"What?"
"Is that your cute friend Amy with those hot legs?"
Amy giggles every time she hears this. "Oh, Matt, you are such a flirt."
Matt grinned blindly up at her, "Oh come on, Amy, you know you're the only girl for me."
We slipped past him into my room where we both commenced our ‘studying’.
She sighed and made little humming noises in the back of her throat while hanging half out of my window. I shouted out important facts like, "Napoleon looks like he is always wearing shoulder pads," and "Churchill should have sat next to Stalin because he looks chubby next to Roosevelt." Maybe nothing we will be tested on, but I think that these are the facts that we really need to know.
Eden bounced into our room while Amy was still mooning over neighbor boy. She flopped down on her bed and sighed dramatically. "I don't know why I have to study for my math test. I can just tell Mrs. Bartlet that my foot hurts. She always lets me off."
I may have rolled my eyes at that. Eden has enough of a brain to use her handicaps as a tool to get what she wants but is too dense to use her brain to actually fill it with knowledge. "Why don't you just study? It can't hurt you to open your book."
Eden lifted her curly head off of the covers and rolled her eyes at me. "Fine!" She petulantly kicked off her prosthetic half leg and pulled her bag up onto her bed with the same twisted foot that jutted out where her knee should have been. Nudging out her math book, Eden gripped a pencil between her toes in preparation for taking notes.
Amy turned at this point and gasped, "That is so cool!"
Eden smirked. She always loves attention... of any kind. "Oh, this is nothing. I've had to write like this my whole life."
Before I knew what was happening Amy was on Eden's bed with her sandal tossed onto the floor behind her and a pencil clutched between her toes.
The next half hour was spent with Amy and Eden giggling over Amy’s awful foot-writing and me hanging out the window acknowledging the hard work that the neighbor boy was putting in around his yard.
Not exactly the afternoon of normalcy that I had planned. Not bad… just not normal.
Sincerely,
Disillusioned
Truth: I think that weird is catching. You know, like the flu or something. We should all wash our hands more often.
October 18th, Wednesday
Today was a hard day. I don’t know how else to describe it.
It all started at school, right after 5th period. I was following a group of guys out to PE and paused mid-step when my brother Tommy's class walked out of a side door. They were only about a hundred feet away. Tommy’s face lit up when he looked over and spotted a flock of birds pecking around on the lawn in front of him. Without a thought he went running and yelling, "Biabia bia bia." (Tommy has a special language of his own and has never learned how to wrap his tongue around many words.) He was so happy. It made me smile to see Tommy just being Tommy.
But then the guys in front of me started to laugh and point. One of them guffawed, "What a retard!"
I was mortified for Tommy, but he didn't seem to notice. He just kept shooing the birds and laughing at his efforts.
I, on the other hand, just kept walking... didn't say a word.
Today was a hard day. Today I witnessed myself do nothing when it counted. Today I found out that I don’t like myself very much.
Sincerely,
Conscience Challenged
Truth: People are confused about the actual definition of retard. It is not someone who is mentally challenged. It is someone who knows better and still acts stupid. For instance: The boys pointing and laughing at a special ed boy are retards.
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