Original work from our Writers, Guest Bloggers and Freelancers
When I go to a cash register to check out I watch as the cashier’s eyes stayed glued to my chest instead of my face as I try to talk to them. I try to ignore the stares. I try to pretend that they aren’t staring openly at me. I try to act normal, but it’s hard. Sometimes I just want to blurt out, it’s called a port and it’s keeping me alive. If you have any questions please ask them, but please just stop staring at me and acting weird or embarrassed about it.
Many ask if it was possible for me to be born without my disease would I chose that? My response may surprise you, but I would say no. I've prayed for many years that God could use the bad of my disease to bring good to others and I have begun to see that being played out. If I hadn't suffered first I would never understand someone else's suffering to the extent I do. There are countless lives I never would have had the opportunity to touch if I didn't have my disease.
Because of you gastroparesis, I know what it is like to suffer and be in pain and therefore I am able to empathize with people on a different level. I have developed an incredible passion for the medical field. A passion that was sparked at a young age. I want to be able to help others who are suffering because I know what it’s like.
Patrons of all mobilities could mingle at bar-side tables, and pods of cozy chairs, and films were aired on multiple screens each with audio and visual aids. Guests at-large joined via mobile video units and mingled as well as the event’s organizer and emcee Reveca Torres of Backbones (a local organization supporting spinal cord injury/disease) welcomed us to a night of short films unlike any other.
I went through the next couple of years dealing with the pain associated with eating. Then in July of 2011 things took a turn for the worse. I would eat a meal at night and the next morning would still be full. I usually went for a run each morning. Sometimes that helped the food move through, but other times I would vomit food, from the night before, at noon the next day. I was confused, but didn't say anything at first. I didn't want them to treat me for an eating disorder again. I thought I was past all that. Eventually I couldn't keep silent anymore.
Pathways 2015 brought a diverse group of blind and visually impaired youth from all over Chicagoland. Students began by meeting the Pathways staff, reuniting with friends from previous summers, as well as meeting new friends.
I write and speak out even when it hurts, even if it means being judged, because it is far better than atrophying inside from silence and denial. And who knows? Maybe someone who reads one of my stories will finally find the courage to free themselves, too, from whatever blanket they hide under.
"Amir Rabiyah opens the show with a spoken word exploration of being queer, disabled, trans and juggling multiple identities. In a prayer, Rabiyah implores listeners to stop asking chronically ill to ‘get well soon’. “Being sick forever terrifies people,” Rabiyah says, and dozens of snapping fingers echo the sentiment."
They didn't admit me to the psych ward that time. They let me go home at three in the morning. I took a taxi back to the building and wondered why I was still alive. It wasn't a 'I'm going to try and kill myself again' type of wonder. Just an idle wondering of what the point of my life was. I didn't make a difference. I didn't matter.
I'm 31 and all this manifested from whispers of my name whilst sitting in front of my art locker in high school. Whispers of Anna, Anna. Back then I was 16, and maybe all this started when I was younger. A time when I would obsessively ask myself, why aren't I a squirrel? Self awareness, self existence seems to always dance in my head from time to time.
