Astrid’s Journal

Today I had a listening test for English. It’d be the first two hours, and on Tuesday I’d been told that I’d have to do it in Mr. De B.’s room, cause I’d do an alternative test (cause the others get a listening and watching test). So, everything alright, I thought, and off I went to school. At 8:10 AM (beginning of the first hour), I went to De B.’s room, where he appeared not to be. I got a bit grumpy, but assumed that he had to start the test for the others (he’s secretary of exams if I’m correct). A little while later, I got quite upset and was stressed: what was this again? At around 8:20, De B. came up to me and he sounded quite angry. I thought: ooops, did something go wrong with the listening test at the last moment? The only thing that went wrong, he said, was that I didn’t ask about it. About what, I wondered. It turned out that the test would be at 9:00, and he told me that everyone’d gotten a letter about it and I should’ve asked about it. I still don’t know about what: did he expect me to have inquired about the test before Tuesday or come up with it myself (he started off to tell me about the test on Tuesday), or was there something about that letter, that I didn’t know anyone had ever received, that I should’ve known intuitively? About the 9:00? Well, if everyone has told you that it’s the first two hours, you won’t assume it’s otherwise, will you? I was very confused at first, but in the end it worked out and I got to sit with some other kids who’d also come early. At 9:00, the test started. It was quite difficult, at least, for me. I’m normally good at English so I don’t need to worry about having a poor mark, but it didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. The first part were normal questions where you had to summarize a paragraph (or rather, select the correct summary). The second part was one where some words were replaced by a beeeep and you had to select the word that’d fit best on that place. That is usually quite difficult. De B. at first supervised my test-taking, but there was a problem cause all janitors were away, so he went off to arrange those things and got a woman from the student administration (if I’m correct that’s her job) to supervise while I took the last bits of my test. Overall, the test disappointed me a bit, but I probably still have quite a good mark. French will be on Wednesday (also at 9:00, so I’m not going to be early this time), and I hope it’ll go quite well, but I’m not that great at French, so wish me good luck.

Astrid

I think there’s a lot about the next year stuff that I have to sort out. There are practical things I hardly talk about. I still haven’t applied at IB-Groep, and, beside some casual notes while on the open day, the folks in Nijmegen have no idea that I “want” (blessed are the quotation marks!) to study at their university.

By the way, we have currently also been trying to find help in some things from ‘t Loo Erf, which is the local centre for the blind. Mr. De B. contacted them on Friday the 14th, and the folks are going to discuss me and will get back to us.

Then, there are the many emotional things, that are mostly very unrelated to university - they’d exist if university weren’t there - but the transition is making things more difficult. Mum is clear in her expectations, which she stated once again yesterday: I’m going to university or I’ll have to present an alternative, which to her means a detailed outline of the entire year. There are several things she apparently doesn’t take into account:

1. A plan for university isn’t detailed either, certainly mine isn’t, and that is one reason why I don’t feel like going
2. At this moment, I am terribly lacking in all sorts of skills, having a very unquiet mind and having no idea about what skills I will gain in what way either in half a year or before when whatever I want to do as an alternative will be over
3. If I had the skills to (mainly social/behaviour stuff is making things more difficult), I’d genuinely love to go to university; it’s *not* a problem of laziness

And stuff would be much easier if Mum, with her “expectations do everything” attitude, were to arrange her stupid plans for me. But no, she’s only expecting me to and further just whining that I’m never going to be mature or independent. So how is one going to gain those skills??? By the way, she isn’t referring to physical independence, but more to arranging one’s own things, but that’s rather worse than better.

I don’t know what to think about all this at times. Part of me just wants to hold on, as I’ve always done. I at times compare my current situation to that of early 1999. And, as I kept up at high school, why shouldn’t I at university? But there are differences. Less would be expected of me on high school than there’s going to be at university. There were my parents who arranged virtually everythng for me. And, I must admit I wasn’t as troubled about stuff at the time as I’m now. That sounds weird. The school for the blind was horrible, wasn’t it? Not in all respects, but in some - yes. And that was one reason why I looked forward to normal school: mostly, the academic challenge. It’s not something to look forward to at university - besides, maybe, that English is a topic of interest for me, and is hence going to be cool. But I have no interests now, as I’m in a me-ologic state of mind. Will that be over by September? I don’t think so.

There’s something about this holding on thing that I’ll have to discuss. You may know about the “if it fails, it’ll fail within three months” statement made by special education folk in reference to children who go to normal school. I was aware of this idea when I transferred to my current high school in August, 1999. My parents said that it usually goes alright the first couple of weeks, then things deteriorate, and within three months, the child has been transferred back to the school for the blind. I don’t know why they used to tell me this statistic. The angry, resentful part of me thinks they wanted to give me an incentive to hold on, to prove that I wasn’t one of those failure kids. I know I interpreted it that way. I have had some memories lately of feeling that I should pretend that I’m alright, even if it were only to graduate from high school in six years. I looked up some entries in my Dutch, offline journal and they’re quite expressive, stating that if people knew about my feelings, special education would get after me to return me to the school for the blind. Bartiméus, I said, would be right then. Some of my entries look pretty overreactive, given that they were written barely a month after the start of the school year, but I know how I’ve struggled in school with everything other than academics over the last six years. In seventh and eigth grade, the Failure was a feared thing, nearly an object.

But, of course, I made it at high school. I’m a senior now, so what do I nag about? Part of me views the fact that I kept up, despite my early struggles - that seem to be so similar to those encountered by the kids who fail normal school -, as a reason to be positive: if I kept up at high school, then why not at university? I don’t have the negative example of the failure kids now, but I could easily make up one - my having to hold on mechanism is quite creative. Would it work? Would I actually want it to work?

Part of me feels anger and resentment and feels that I’m only pushed to hold on and no-one out there ever cares about how I’m doing. That’s not correct, at least, not now, but my resentment with mainly my parents over their attitudes - or the way I perceive them - is quite a strong feeling.

I don’t know how to deal with this. At times, it feels as if my parents put a bar of expectations on some far-away star, tell me to reach for it every five minutes and leave it at that. I hate it: I feel like I should be a child in doing what my parents want me to (I still live with me, so that’s logical), yet should be an adult in that I’ll have to arrange everything for myself. Once again some adolescent issues placed in context.

Astrid

I wanted to find Brave New World by Aldous Huxley in the library. The folks at the library for the blind only have it in recorded format, and I hate that with English literature - I tried with Ulysses. Dad said that I was actually asking Mum to go to the library with me to find the book and then scan it for me. I wish I had OpenBook or some other OCR programme that works with JAWS! Of course I did not want Mum to scan the book, but what other options did I have? For me, I’ve nagged quite a bit to the library for the blind folks. Of course, *now* I’m a bit late with the thing - it has to be finished by February 21 -, but I was not when I started trying to locate the book. Maybe there are 90+ other ways to locate a book besides nagging to the library for the blind folks, but I’m admittedly not that creative a problem-solver.

Mum got really angry, switching between what was the problem - the going to the library or the scanning - about every 30 seconds. She searched her bookshelves for English books, and most that she mentioned we aren’t allowed to read for our literature test. Mum screamed: “You know nothing about literature!” and went on to question why I actually wanted to study English while I hated reading. I don’t hate reading, I just don’t feel like doing any schoolwork whatsoever, and there are 90+ reasons to question my ability to study whatever besides my supposed likes or dislikes. There’s a huge difference between what I’m genuinely interested in - English, linguistics, literature, politics, philosophy, history - and what I’m currently busy with, which is more what is going on in my mind. I’m not “interested” in blindness, or giftedness in the way one can be interested in linguistics or history. I’m too busy with my own stuff to spend much time on my genuine interests, I know, but I cannot go to university to study me-ology. I don’t feel like going to university at all. It used to help to just work extra-hard on school stuff, but it doesn’t seem to anymore.

Mum went on to wonder when I was finally going to be mature and independent. She seems to think that all there is going on is a large amount of laziness. I feel like I did in late 1998 and early 1999, and also a bit throughout 1998: Mum who just wants to kick me to university (or normal school, at the time). But it was Mum making the applications at the time; now, it’s me. Part of me wants to apply to university, like Mum applied to my current high school in 1999. I held on, didn’t I? I’m a senior now. But what kind of senior in high school? There’s not the least bit of excitement about college in my mind right now, which there was in 1999 - at the time, Mum also only kicked me to normal school on insisting I do lots of advanced schoolwork, like with the enjoying literature now. There is much more to the university stuff than there used to be to the normal school stuff, at least in my view. Mum may’ve had the same worries, but I didn’t start to till the summer of 1999. Plus, at the time I had the illusion that I could get better at what I was bad at - behaviour stuff, mostly, at the time - just by reminding myself that I should. I don’t hold that belief now - I’ve had enough experience to know that a simple “this has to stop by [...]” won’t get me to gain independence in any way. I have to learn to, but telling me over and over again that I “wanted” to study English (I don’t want to at all right now!) and a “when are you going to get mature and independent?” won’t equip me with the skills I’ll need.

Eventually, I found Brave New World on the Internet. I’m going to tell my teacher on Monday. Now, I first have to read La Chute for French. But, fortunately, both books are quite interesting in their philosophical themes.

Astrid

As I woke up this morning at 7:00, I was very dizzy. I fell almost immediately and hit my head on my desk. Ouch!!! It still hurts and there’s a large bump on my head. I still feel a little dizzy. Have no idea why that was, cause as I woke up at 6:25, I didn’t feel that way.

I checked with a French website on Albert Camus, typing in the quotes from the book it gave into the search box in MS Word to search through my book. I found all quotes I checked for. Also, as I read some more from the book, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s more difficult than I assumed it was. Apparently, the font size in this edition is so small that they can put the same content on half the pages.

Fitness has been cancelled. I am happy about that for I didn’t feel like going today one bit. However, next Friday we’re free, the Friday thereafter we’re having spring break, and then on Friday the 18th I have two obligatory classes at the time when I’d actually gone to fitness, so I can’t go either. Maybe I can arrange to go on Thursday the 17th, depending on whether philosophy class will be obligatory.

Astrid

I got a book for French - La Chute by Albert Camus. I showed it to the teacher and she said it was a very good book. Then when I got home Mum said there’s a vocabulary list at the back of the book. Ooops, I thought, isn’t this an edited version? Mum said that if Mrs. Van O. had said that it was right, then it was and I shouldn’t care. But I asked the teacher anyway on Monday, cause I didn’t want to read the book only to discover that one isn’t allowed to read it. She paged through it and said that there was a vocabulary list in it, but that it wasn’t an edited version. So I took it home and Mum scanned it. Now I just started it and looked in it and found out that it is part of the Merle Blanc series, which is a literature series for students. Sooo, is it edited or not??? It says that the epilogue is by some Dutch person (apparently, one of the series publishers), but it says ntohing about an edited version. I was confused and looked at the number of pages: only 74. But that should’ve been one of the most obvious things there is to see about a book: its format. So I tried to find out its usual length, and that appeared to be 153 pages. How on Earth can a book not have been edited and still be half as thin??? I think I’m just going to ignore the stuff - I asked Van O. to look at it and she did, so if it’s wrong, then that’s stupid. But I don’t want to be embarrassed once she sees that I picked a book from that series. Didn’t she notice it? I feel sooo strange. If it appears to be an edited version, I will have to read an original edition anyway and she’ll probably be pissed off
with me. Man, I wish I’d taken the other book I had wanted to read!! But it’ll have to be finished by Monday, so I cannot get the book scanned and read it before then. It sucks really. I hate making mistakes like this. Man, sometimes I feel really weird. Some folks don’t even read their books, and I’m worried that the book may have been simplified while Mrs. Van O. saw it twice and says it hasn’t. It seems as if I only chose the book for its thinness - it was an important factor, indeed. Van O. says it’s very difficult to read. I’ve not noticed it so far. So am I better at French than Mrs. Van O. expects me to be or has this book been ddited???

Astrid

A few days ago, Mum, Sigrid and I somehow got to speak about when we were little. Sigrid made remarks about kids bullying me and I doing nothing about it. She always stood up for me, cause I just let it happen. Then Sigrid and Mum got like that I should have bitched them off. They got to speak about me as if I were the most anxious, passive retreater in the world. At other times, they’ve also been positive in a way that I expressed feelings of anger, as if I never do that.

It confused me. People have always said that I was angry too quickly. I know, of course there are right and wrong ways of expressing one’s anger, but the statement that I’m angry too quickly implies that one isn’t allowed to be angry when I am. That I’m angry when I shouldn’t be. Is anger a feeling or a behaviour? Does it matter? Is it any more appropriate if it’s just a feeling? I know that ways of expressing anger are behaviours that can be correct or incorrect - mine are often incorrect. But is that the same as stating that I’m angry too soon? And if the feeling of anger can, itself, be inappropriate, then how does one determine when that is the case? I am not saying that because the feeling is appropriate, it’s appropriate to express it the way you want - some ways, that I’ve used, are particularly destructive.

There is a lot between passive resignation and aggression, yet I seem to act on both extremes so frequently that it gets excessive attention. I mean, I think everyone at times bursts into an anger tantrum, and in certain situations even the most self-confident, assertive person will freeze up and let stuff just happen. But my low frustration tolerance, frequent anger, and “less predictable behaviour” (whatever that may be) have been highlighted on reports so frequently I’m losing track of it, and yet folks keep telling me that I should stand up for myself, and have at times even been approving of such behaviour when I considered it to be a mild anger tantrum. I have noticed how I’m thinking too much in black and white a lot of times, but it is so confusing. When I was younger, I used to be quite aggressive and angry and people did not omit telling me so. And still, folks tell me I have a my way or the highway attitude and make everyone’s life miserable with my behaviour. Yet at other times folks seem to think I’m way too passive and don’t stand up for myself. You may say that most of my anger outbursts are towards my parents or Sigrid, while I often retreat at school, and then get into a long sort of psychological blah-blah of why that would be (don’t ask me), but folks at school have also said I was curt and at times didn’t show I empathized with others’ points of view, and at times I get the same criticism for being too passive at home. Apparently, it’s been like this for a very long time. I feel quite confused by this contradiction, but that may just be that I’m thinking too much in black and white and my difficulty in understanding social situations.

Often, however, I’ve felt hurt by criticisms about my being too angry, for they seem to reduce anger to a behavioural disorder. I do not say that my low frustration tolerance and less predictable behaviour are not a behaviour problem, but is anger? And if not, why do folks say that I’m angry too easily? And where’s the line between anger tantrums and expressing one’s feeling appropriately, even in some situations standing up for oneself. (Of course, not all anger is about self-advocacy.) Why do people at one time criticize me for being too angry, and at another time, in a quite similar situation, consider this expression to be positive. I don’t know. I’ve always had great trouble understanding the conventional rules of expressing one’s feelings, especially negative ones. By “expressing”, then, I’m meaning everything that makes apparent how I’m feeling. Folks say that I’m “always having a crisis”, in a way as if there’s a right way to feel in every situation and my emotions are trribly disturbed, while at other times folks expect me to express a feeling that previously seemed to be inapropriate. But yeah, I’m exhibiting two extremes and nothing in between.

Astrid

I am feeling frustrated. I got the programme for the course of February 9 to 12. I hate it. Besides a walk through the city of Groningen, cooking a meal, and an example of a college class, the entire course is full of presentations and information rounds. I don’t like going one bit. I know all the practical stuff there is to know with regards to being a student at my preferred university in September, I could arrange the things that’d have t be arranged if I felt like it, I know all the f*cked stuff they’re going to tell us about all the skills we’ll need once we go to college - we get at least two presentations by a social worker about all the things we’ll need to be capable of at college -, and I know that I’m lacking so much that “catching up” in eight months will likely be impossible. The programme sounds as fi we don’t know any of the things we’ll have to do at and in preparation for college yet, but that we do have all the magic skills we need. What if it’s the other way round? I’m not so much referring to daily living stuff here - I’m not going to move out till mid-2006 or so and travel isn’t that difficult -, but more to those creepy social things. I have to work on these things, I know. I don’t need a course to tell me so.

I went to the dentist yesterday and had a whole bunch of cavities filled. Boy, did it ever hurt! And the dentist drilled about half of one of my teeth away. All the teeth I expected to be healthy had cavities and all I expected to have cavities did not; I guessed only one correctly. I don’t want to have cavities next time I go for a check-up, definitely!

Astrid

I received an E-mail this evening from a folk at the school for the blind in Groningen. They organize a three-day course for blind folks who are about to go to college, in cooperation with the University of Groningen. The folk had sent the E-mail already in December but had made a typeo in my E-mail address. How stupid! The course will be from February 9 till 12, which is right during my spring break, but I don’t mind. I don’t expect much out of it; the average course organized by the school for the blind is a gathering of blind people around the same age, most much more capable than I am, to receive info about all sorts of things you’ll have to be capable of when you’re going to do whatever the course is aimed at, college in this case. I last attended such a course in ninth grade, and all it did was make me feel desperate about all everyone was so great at and I wasn’t. Then, I’m talking about daily living stuff a bit but more referring to social/communication stuff, in the broadest sense of the word. That is always the case, but it gets highlighted when I spend time with so many other blind students at a course. I feel bad at the thought of having to see all those other people (nine students) do so much better than I do, and I being the outcast, who is at a low level at everything. I’m afraid that the course is, like the ninth grade one, aimed at showing us what all we’ll need to be capable of once we go to college. Oh, of course it isn’t *aimed* at that, but that’s the message they send. I’m afraid it will, at least from what I’ve read from the description. If alll the students have to learn all the description writes about, you’ll need three months, not three days, so I’m afraid that all it’ll be is a lot of nagging about all that all those high school seniors, who of course never before thought about the demands of college, will have to be capable of once they go there. Well, at least that’s what the seventh and ninth grade courses were like. They can’t be much different, being three-day courses. What can you do in three days, besides informing students about all the skills they’ll need once they’re going to do the thing the course aims to prepare for, and letting them do some activities to prove that they have these skills. If they don’t, they will at least know that they need to work on something. That’s helpful for some, of course - don’t ask me how many blind people I’ve heard of (mostly through their concerned parents) who were determined to go to continuing education but had no idea of all the skills they’d need then, which they were lacking -, but it is not quite something I like. I’m only going to the course cause it will at least seem, and maybe appear, that I’m more prepared. I applied for the course before I realized how near college was coming, when I still dreamt that by the time I went to college, I’d have all those skills they informed you that you’d need. Of course, there are also advantages. I’ll meet other blind high school seniors - although I know quite a few already - and I’ll get a realistic image of what one will need then, which likely is about the same as I imagine, but then at least I’m prepared, huh? I used to pretend that whatever the course was aimed at was further away than people thought it to be. For some things, this was true - for example, employment at the ninth grade course (where people also attended whose schoolign would be over after tenth grade) -, but college is not among them. I don’t look forward to the course one bit, but I hope the attitudes of the staff folk and other students will be better than I expected, as was the case at the summer programme.

Astrid

I heard on our provincial radio station about the flood in 1995. It was not only in Itteren and Borgharen in Limburg but also in my province, Gelderland, but I didn’t live there at the time. I remember watching TV in those days in early 1995 and making drawings of flooded areas. For some reason, I liked it. It is one of those memories I cherish, but that may be cause I cherish the memory of 1994/1995 in general.

Milou represents me at that age. She is still optimistic, eager to learn new things. She’s also very independent, at least relatively. I remember once when I was at Vlieland in 1994 wanting some sort of canned food. Dad said I could buy a can myself, and off I went to the camp-site supermarket. As I reached the supermarket and the canned food stand, two problems presented themselves: first, I could not or only hardly identify the foods, and second I could not reach the high shelves, on one of which the food I wanted appeared to be located. I don’t know why I cherish the memory, but four years later, I could not even go to the supermarket on my own. I also have a “lady” to represent myself around that age. She also likes Vlieland, but struggles with the expectations set for her (twelve is a culturally important age, as is eighteen). I remember the first time that I had the feeling of reaching as high as I could, but not touching the star on which my age bar of expectations was located. I was twelve then. The weirdest exaple of this were my Barbie dolls. Yup, I played with Barbie dolls at twelve, and I knew I shouldn’t, but I still did, and I determined I’d let my favourite Barbie doll turn twelve as I was, cause it’d somehow hide the childishness.

On Radio Gelderland, they want to do a programme on the flood on January 31, exactly ten years after its occurrence. I want to hear it, or part of it, since I’m at school most of the day. I have nothing personal to do with the thing whatsoever, but it is one of those memories from that great year 1994/1995. Boy, I’m truly sentimental!

Astrid

I know many writings that highlight the implications disability - including blindness - may have. I know many blind people who, like me, have had emotional difficulties relating to their blindness. The articles I linked to yesterday also point to these issues. Still, I feel a bit ashamed of having these issues. It’s not even so much the dependence that I’m ashamed of - of course I’m ashamed of it, but I know that I should somehow be able to learn new skills -, but more in general what an importance my disability (?) seems to have. Like, the difficulties handling vision loss, the ongoing misconceptions about blindness and my own questions about them (does the fact that I cannot do something now and a sighted person says I’m crazy believing I could, mean I can never do it?), etc. Even though NFB folk don’t want to be told that their philosophy is that blindness isn’t a big deal, many of them have said that it isn’t, in generalised statements as if to say that it shouldn’t be. You may remember that discussion I had in June, when all the people reminded me of the “with proper training and opportunity” statement in their philosophy. Still, they overlook some important implications that at least have applied to me and do so to other blind folks (not NFB members that I know of). The people blindfold persons with residual vision to promote emotional adjustment. While I agree that people’s residual vision - or rather, the attitudes about it, valuing vision over alternative techniques - may prevent the learning of blindness skills (my independence decreased quite a bit as my vision deteriorated, although I’ve done a lot of catching up over the last few years), but I don’t see why being forced into not using one’s full abilities (residual vision is an ability, after all) would promote emotional adjustment. People in disabilities groups (also mobility impaired and deaf people) have promoted appropriate alternative techniques, as this article does with crutches and wheelchairs, but they do not deny the impacts of a disability. On that same website I found the previous article at, I also found an article stating that disabilities are significant.

I don’t know why I’m confused about the implications a disability, or blindness, if that’s not a disability, as some folks say, can have. Many statements I find people in Braille Monitor and Future Reflections make, have made me feel bad, cause all they keep highlighting is expectations, expectations, expectations. That makes me feel as if blindness is a disability (sorry, physical nuisance) which causes lack of eyesight and laziness. Sure I know there have been times when I passively accepted help that I shouldn’t have had (the guiding me around in seventh grade being the most notable example), but I have fought f*cking hard to find out how to do things that everyone expected me to do (or expects I will magically be able of once they kick me out of the house) but never bothered showing me how to cause they “aren’t trained to do so”, and “you should go to the rehab centre (but not when it costs you a year of college, and by the way, we don’t think you should go there, but the folks at the summer programme indoctrinated you)”. I don’t do much household stuff, I know, and my sister often gets mad with my parents and me cause my parents don’t expect me to do much household things (my folks don’t expect her to do husehold stuff, either, but anyway). This often gets me to try to do the thing Sigrid complains about, and it makes me wonder what I am lackign that she apparently can do that without having been shown, and I cannot. All the NFB folk have highlighted in their writings about their “excellent” training centres, is that they have high expectations of blind people. They say that the apartments are considerably removed from the centres, and that people should use public transit to go to the centre, that they are expected to cook their own meals, etc. They apparently only come to the centre to be expected to do these things, which they always were able of but never were expected to do; I wonder how a person who couldn’t yet travel safely and who couldn’t yet cook, would make it at their centres.

I feel angry. I cannot cope with having to pretend I’m just normal except I don’t have eyesight, by just holding on. A few days ago, I suddenly realized that plans for college are plans for four years (financial aid will be terminated if you interrupt college and I don’t know what other consequences there are). Maybe I can hold on at college - taking into account the total mess that I’ll be taking to college, my hope is slim -, but then still I’ll have to move out by 2007 or earlier. Sigrid was so stupid as to ask: “Aren’t you going to move out on your own this year yet?” Duh!!! How the heck does she expect me to do so?! I read a book a few months ago in which a situatin was painted of a 19-year-old girl who’d just moved out on her own, and who had not learnt daily living skills. All tasks took her a lot of time and energy. Maybe, I could do that. It’d prove I could hold on, wouldn’t it? Part of me wants to. Part of me wants to apply to college, wait till I’ve graduated and then apply for housing. Not because I like the unsafe situation, but cause I like to prove that I keep up. Another part of me doesn’t think that’s responsible one bit. I wrote from her (Clarissa’s) perspective yesterday:

Still no application for college, fortunately. Fortunately? Time doesn’t stand still, does it? But I don’t think applying for college would be a good thing now. I see that many of the “ladies” can’t keep up. Expectations won’t get Carol to get rid of her resentment or Milou to grow up. It’s 2005. That seems to make a great difference. It’s exactly five weeks since the time we should’ve applied for college, but that seems to make a lesser difference. Action needs to be taken now, or we’ll end up doing nothing and I don’t know what will happen then, but it’ll definitiely not be nice. I know that it’s a great mess of all sorts of things going on, and expectations won’t clean that up.

I don’t know fully how I will indeed get over this mess. Part of it can be settled by learning independence skills, and part of it probably cannot. There is more going on than a lack of skills, of course. There are these feelings of resentment and anger that only partly relate to my blindness - eg. that it is because of my blindness in addition to my intelligence (or vice versa) that my difficulties cannot be acknowledged. My feelings of being locked up in that place that I cannot get out of on my own also partly relate to those fights for recognition of my abilities, but totally unrelated factors also contribute, and blindness is only a very minor contributor. Neither of these issues limit my skills development, of course, but they make my situation more difficult emotionally than it would otherwise have been. Expectations - as in “You have to learn to live with your choices and the choices made for you,” - won’t get me over this. But what will? I don’t know. Maybe I’ll somehow learn to get over it. And, maybe, when I appear to have or get more abilities than I thought I had, I will get more at peace with my situation. Maybe college won’t be that bad? Then I’ve proved I hold on. I don’t want to admit I have difficulties. I want to hold on. At least, part of me does. Another part (I call her Carol) knows all too well what difficulties I have and has gotten sick and tired of having to fight to get over them, cause, as she perceives it, everyone only pushed her to just hold on. I know how right she is, even thoguh she has perceived some statements likely incorrectly. I know how powerless she was in achieving what she wanted. She is part of me, and, even though I’ve handed her responsibilities to another “lady”, that doesn’t make her less important. I know I have to do something to get over my issues, but I know hardly anything to do and I feel I ain’t allowed to.

Astrid