tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13233267754400988082024-03-13T05:06:39.785-07:00Aly & ApraxiaGirl With A Funny AccentAlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comBlogger107125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-6856651680196369512023-07-22T12:31:00.001-07:002023-07-22T12:31:06.609-07:00Dear Reader<p>Dear Reader, </p><p>If you are still following my Facebook page and even this blog, thank you! </p><p>I've been on a personal and professional journey over the last couple of years; I suppose this will continue as I turn 30 years old in October!</p><p>Anyways, my Apraxia Advocacy and Blogging took a different route. Candidly I put it on the back burner given everything going on. <br /></p><p>For the last couple of years:</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYt-dfMH-tfNGnAbCyl9tReXBEv0uXygxWG_q6M_YLuJ_9VdQstlMeYFF-xAYQ521TwwAE03RDT-QQ1dZY24WyfkqEDByr4OreDTz30-0myMVHCe3w53pdrYiuyaf4ZqgiKgO07if9Y83R-AqH1wl6eywiPRGiA6C4L1d2bd3LjFonWEtPrKUwh3wViXMP/s2048/signal-2023-07-22-122743_002.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1542" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYt-dfMH-tfNGnAbCyl9tReXBEv0uXygxWG_q6M_YLuJ_9VdQstlMeYFF-xAYQ521TwwAE03RDT-QQ1dZY24WyfkqEDByr4OreDTz30-0myMVHCe3w53pdrYiuyaf4ZqgiKgO07if9Y83R-AqH1wl6eywiPRGiA6C4L1d2bd3LjFonWEtPrKUwh3wViXMP/w241-h320/signal-2023-07-22-122743_002.jpeg" width="241" /></a></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I've worked full time in Legal Operations for a cyber security company, affording me to be a Stay At Home Dog Mom to my goofy dog, McTavish.</li></ul><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I've also been attending Penn State for my Masters in Business Administration. I graduate in December of this year and can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. </li></ul><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>For fun and adventure, I also got my Motorcycle License! I enjoy riding around town on the weekends even if it's just to get coffee. Of course I have my bright pink bow on my helmet so all drivers know to be kind to the lady rider. </li></ul><p></p><p>All in all, the journey from having Apraxia, to living with this 'accent,' and just living life to the fullest has been a joy. </p><p>It's great to be living my journey, but better yet looking at the next generation of Apraxia Stars and all they will accomplish. I was just at the Apraxia Conference in Plano, Texas and seeing all the resources, knowledge, and community-I just know the next generation of Apraxia Stars will have all the tools needed to live their life to the fullest and communicate everything they want to share with the world. </p><p>-Alyson </p>Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-75314825545926913912022-07-18T13:56:00.001-07:002022-07-18T13:56:45.987-07:00Just Let Me Try<p>"Just let me try." A simple request, yet one so difficult to receive as a parent trying to protect their child with Apraxia. </p><p>At the Apraxia Conference the theme was focused on the whole child. Often in the Apraxia journey, we tend to fixate on solely treating the child's speech disorder or getting them to just talk; we often forget that raising a child goes beyond just this obstacle. </p><p>It's raising them to hold coping mechanisms to handle stress, teaching them to live with and succeed with testing anxiety, upholding social health. Essentially we also must focus on the social, emotional, and mental well-being of our Apraxia stars as well. Afterall, Apraxia is not only about speech. It's everything in between-everything between classes, peers, family time, and growing up to be the best version we can be. </p><p>So when it came to my afternoon session, particularly the topic of Bilingualism, I was very surprised with how many are concerned with their children diagnosed with Apraxia learning a second language. The concept of "They can barely speak 1 language, why would you try a 2nd one" seems to be a common opinion that many face during their journeys as SLPs and parents. </p><p>I recall my days in signing up for my first Spanish course. Of course my parents were nervous and met with the administration and teachers to see any viable options or possible accommodations if they became necessary. I recall I kept on saying, "Just let me try. I'm already bad at English, so what does it matter if I'm bad at Spanish too."</p><p><i>Just let me try. </i></p><p>I ended up taking 10 years of Spanish courses between High School, College, and some after college. I am fluent today and quite frankly I love speaking Spanish more than I do English. In Spanish I can roll and say my R's, in English I still cannot say an R correctly. </p><p>This isn't meant to serve as guidance about whether or not you sign your child with Apraxia up for a second language (albeit I have a lot of opinions on this, perhaps for another post). My point is-imagine how much our stars with Apraxia can accomplish if we just let them try. </p><p>Just let them try that sport, activity, class, or hobby they've been obsessed about. What's the worst thing that can possibly happen? Failure? If so, wouldn't that be failing forward and is that really something to avoid?</p>Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-82304220327365572672022-02-10T17:08:00.004-08:002022-02-10T17:08:53.233-08:00Breaking Down Physical Movements<p>Does anyone else with Apraxia have issues executing physical movement? Coordination has always been a struggle, and even as an adult I find that tasks that come easy to most-requires a bit more forethought on my part. </p><p>For instance, I cannot drink out of a water bottle and walk at the same time. I have to stay completely still, sip, finish, and then proceed. I also cannot hold a cup with one hand and walk at the same time; I spill every single time-so two hands it is.</p><p>Anyways, I usually put on a good front with physical exercise: I play softball, I've run marathons, and I now lift weights. I look like a normal athlete, but sometimes I have my fall-apart moments-My apraxia comes up and just reminds me that I process things differently than others. </p><p>I was recently working out with my boyfriend and had a total meltdown. While bench pressing, we were working on some alternating movements. Where your arms go towards your chest, you lift your heels up, then when your arms push upwards, you push your heels downwards-and back n' forth you go. </p><p>No matter how hard I tried-even without weights-I could not move my arms up and down while alternating my heels. Something SO simple that others did on YouTube with ease and I am telling myself in a very step-by-step format "Heels Up, Arms Down, Heels Down, Arms Up." Yet still the physical execution I was stumbling over. </p><p>The frustration is, and again it's token Apraxia: I know what to do, I can say what to do, I know mentally how I'm 'supposed' to move, yet for the life of me I cannot physically do it. </p><p>I burst into tears out of frustration; of course, trying to explain to my partner that my brain knows what it wants to do but my limbs just get confused and have a spotty connection with my brain's intentions. </p><p>He, beyond patient, just reassures me that trying to force a connection to a spotty receiver isn't going to help anything. We just will find a different way to make the connection another time. </p><p>There was no more working out or meltdowns that evening, but there was plenty of frozen yogurt. </p><p>Even in my late twenties Apraxia sneaks up on me, but if the many years of this speech disorder have taught me anything-Good company and frozen desserts are always worth celebrating and truly make the journey just a little bit easier. </p>Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-17711266216201531642022-01-11T12:33:00.001-08:002022-01-11T21:51:24.348-08:00Imposter Syndrome on the Apraxia JourneyFor many, the Apraxia Journey is discussed through the constraints of childhood.<div><br /></div><div>However, Apraxia and its reminiscent effects (direct effects or even psychological/mental effects) carries through adulthood.</div><div><br /></div><div>I pride myself on becoming a professional adult, college-educated, getting my MBA, and even advocating for a cause that hits close to home.</div><div><br /></div><div>On paper, I`m a high-achiever with Apraxia or not. </div><div><br /></div><div>But the issue is, and something I struggle with apparently, is Imposter Syndrome.</div><div><br /></div><div>You see, in discussing with my partner about this dreaded Business Stats class I am taking this year-I was already nearly in tears trying to re-study what Mean, Median, and Mode meant. Week 1 and my eyes are getting puffy with tears like 9 year old Aly who couldn`t multiply past x6.</div><div><br /></div><div> Math was never my strongest subject. I know I can do it-but it feels like it takes me twice as long to understand the principles whereas my counterparts already know the basics. I feel behind before I even get started.</div><div><br /></div><div>Of course in my partner`s attempt at being motivating and supporting, he shared the mental-health trick in telling myself that `This will be easy,` `I can do this class,` or ` This class will be fun.` </div><div><br /></div><div>I laughed- not out of rudeness or spite (okay, maybe out of slight frustration)--but seriously do people actually go into these courses with such delusional reassurance?</div><div><br /></div><div>We are taught not to lie, yet we are supposed to lie to ourselves? Is it still a lie if we use it for good to build confidence?</div><div><br /></div><div>I call it delusional motivation, he calls it `Visualization for one`s sanity.` Either way, if people do go into these courses with such a positive mindset- I never had or felt I deserved such luxury.</div><div><br /></div><div>Assuming a course or something that comes easy for my neurotypical counterparts to also be easy for me, well that would be a blatant violation of everything that has been reinforced through childhood academia.</div><div><br /></div><div>To say I spent about half of my education in `Special-Assisted Math,` retook Pre-Algebra 5x through Middle and High School-and now as a grad student, to be alongside my peers that even do such calculations for a living- I do feel like an imposter.</div><div><br /></div><div>Suppose I have to find comfort in knowing I at least deserve to be there, just as much as the Math Brainiac. I earned my seat at the table, just as everyone else has, even though my journey to success was a bit unorthodox. </div><div><br /></div>Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-38543669571349124492022-01-06T08:48:00.000-08:002022-01-06T08:48:15.845-08:00Life Update: 2022<p style="text-align: justify;"> Hi All,</p><p style="text-align: justify;">In the course of advocacy and sharing what my life looks like as an adult with Apraxia, figured I`d share a simple life update going into 2022.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I am currently going into my second semester at Penn State for my Masters in Business Administration. It`s a little crazy to think about, but for some reason this all seems more `real` than it did the first semester. Perhaps that means I`m just settling into my routine.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I also have A LOT of trips planned this year (which I`m hoping still pans out with this Omicron variant looming). So far I`ll be in Vegas for the Apraxia Kids Conference in July, but I am also planning on going to 3 new states this year as part of my bucket list-trying to get to all 50 states by the time I`m 50 years old! (Made it to 28 so far!) Connecticut, Vermont, and Oregon are on my list for this year-so would appreciate any recommendations!</p><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;">Other than that, hoping for a happy and healthy year as I continue to work full-time, go to school for my MBA, and of course continue to volunteer and serve with Apraxia Kids. Oh, and also have another great year with my rescue dog McTavish.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><p style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgdtZEP8ryjqw745vhAKRFDZ4jTWXLMJMgxMgd8z4MZdyBovsXRaKLJ3QhHQz4HtTA9PwrGaaMftoF543S0qxz_NsWmlF8H-Cpcxzsc38mYaGg7XdKGbEImn9bXldtqivwKvQcu52Vs2aNnh3tmpX_dTjQ6xJ3HyyP1AwQOz3YeRTULiCsZ9LYYhe5COA=s998" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" data-original-height="998" data-original-width="749" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgdtZEP8ryjqw745vhAKRFDZ4jTWXLMJMgxMgd8z4MZdyBovsXRaKLJ3QhHQz4HtTA9PwrGaaMftoF543S0qxz_NsWmlF8H-Cpcxzsc38mYaGg7XdKGbEImn9bXldtqivwKvQcu52Vs2aNnh3tmpX_dTjQ6xJ3HyyP1AwQOz3YeRTULiCsZ9LYYhe5COA=w240-h320" width="240" /></a></p><span style="text-align: left;">Wish I had some specific New Years Resolutions, but after 2020 I pretty much stopped that practice to keep my sanity.</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Best,</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Aly</p>Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-75565324358526685172021-12-15T16:48:00.000-08:002021-12-15T16:48:09.870-08:00Viva Las Vegas, Oh and ApraxiaVegas- the city of sin and escapism. Go for the weekend with good friends, bachelorettes, or even golfing. The point of Vegas is to <i>e</i><i>scape.</i><div><br /></div><div>But what I can never seem to escape is Apraxia and this accent of mine. Is it frustrating, yes at times. But is it an opportunity? It certainly is and I do try to see it this way-if I don't, I'd be very bitter about the whole thing. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyways, on the plane from Burbank to Vegas, I was talking to a recent graduate who spent the last 6 months working at his Mom`s Speech Therapy Clinic. In him explaining his job, we could definitely see eye to eye on the Apraxia and Speech Therapy Journey. From insurance battles, committed parents, and just wanting to help children find their voice, but then also the ugly side of such journeys- the money involved, the depression and sometimes just the overbearing or naive parents. </div><div><br /></div><div>He went on to say, “Some of the parents become speech therapists themselves; always on time and drilling home practices in non-stop. But some of the others, we`ve had parents yell at us for diagnosing their child-after <i>they</i> requested a consultation-and never come back to us. The resources spent and even just trying to bond with the child for them to just never come back, it frustrates me as a business owner but also as someone who just wants to help a child. Their speech won`t magically get better at 7 or 10 years old unless they get the help they need to <u><b>now</b></u>.”</div><div><br /></div><div>To say the least-this conversation was the most impactful I have had on a 50 minute flight to Vegas.</div><div><br /></div><div>As soon as I landed though, I made it a point to turn off my 'advocacy' hat. I need to for various reasons- I'm on vacation, my goal is to spend time with college girlfriends, and just be a quintessential woman in vegas for a weekend😉. Now as a nearly 30 year old, I do not want to explain why I speak the way I do at all times of the day, especially when I'm holding a Titos Cosmopolitan. </div><div><br /></div><div>So for your enjoyment, just to see how many times my speech has come up during a 3 day vacation:</div><div><br /><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I told 5 people during 3 days about Apraxia. </li><li>Then, I told 12 others that I was from Boston, London, or Australia; including 2 bar tenders in a very loud bar when I really just wanted my overpriced cocktail. </li></ul></div><div>Your girl here can't escape Apraxia or this accent, even on a girls trip to Vegas, but hey I try to make the most of it and of course set the boundaries I'm comfortable with. </div><div><br /></div><div>Who else possibly has to explain to people why they speak the way they do? As much as I enjoy the advocacy efforts, sometimes it's easier to just set my boundaries and enjoy my quality time as any person would. </div><div><br /></div>Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-21356862707140586092021-11-03T07:20:00.000-07:002021-11-03T07:20:04.483-07:00Life Update<p>It`s been a while since I last blogged, and typically I`d be disappointed for falling off the blogging bandwagon. But at this point in my life journey, I`m more excited and focused on other life pursuits that seems to keep me going.</p><p>Back in June, I became a part of the Great Resignation. I was actually given 3 different job offers within 2 weeks of each other, and ultimately decided to go for a Paralegal role with a cybersecurity company, called Venafi. This is an industry I have been interested in just given the constant growth of technology in our society, but this is also an industry that is very different from my 6 years of experience in Entertainment and Theme Parks. The company and the team are great; it`s been a fully remote position for years prior to COVID and now I get to work from home as a stay-at-home dog mom to my rescue dog McTavish. To say the least, I love that my commutes are walking my dog around the block and I love having a flexible schedule. I also love being a part of an industry that seeks to provide real-life solutions daily.</p><p>Also back in March, I got into Law School. It was an exciting milestone, but spent the week crying my eyes out-and not out of happiness. I realized after taking the entry exam 3 times, spending the money on applications, etc. I didn`t want to go! It seemed like the simplest of questions I should have asked myself prior to all of the work to just get there. </p><p>So within the same week of accomplishing something I thought I wanted, I did a completely 180- I said no to law school and applied to MBA programs instead. I realized my interest in legal, wasn`t really with the law itself- it was applying strategic moves and decisions within corporate transactions-from insurance auditing and even Human Resources policies. I enjoy application - I do not enjoy law, nor theorizing the differences of `may` and `shall.` With COVID, many academic entry exams were waived so I was able to apply to various MBA programs with just my resume and transcripts alone.</p><p>Fast forward today, I am working full time for Venafi and practically going to school full time for my Masters in Business Administration at Penn State University, taking 3 courses so about 9 credits each semester. </p><p>I am also dating an amazing guy and have been for 2.5 years. Our dates revolve around our weekend bike rides, hipster coffee and brunch spots. Conversations are either stresses from school, work, or catching up on whatever family drama either of us have.</p><p>In one of our discussions, which inspired this post, he said rather bluntly `You`re not that Apraxia little girl anymore.`</p><p>And he`s right. </p><p>My goal growing up and when I envisioned myself as a fully functional adult was to ensure I used my hard work ethic, perseverance, and intelligence to find my success and to not have a disability or disorder inhibit my success or define me.</p><p>No, I am not the little girl with Apraxia anymore. I am not in a position to blame bullies and Apraxia for my life choices, fears and anxiety. I am in a position to reap the benefits and pursue the best version of myself. I am a grown woman that is making decisions to improve herself and be her image of success; sure I may have been given a questionable deck in the beginning of the journey-but that deck presently doesn`t seem to inhibit the new, great cards I am getting every day.</p><p>Ultimately I try to be the best version of Aly I can be. And each day I feel closer and closer to being just that-even though I still can`t do laundry and fold on the same day. </p><p>For any parents reading this right now, in complete doubt or shaken from the early days of your child`s journey I truly believe you wish to see your child reap the great opportunities of school, dating, friends a successful adulthood, etc. . I suppose this post is to serve as a reminder that this is my journey thus far and even though each path is different and unique, I am sure you and your child will find their own successes on their own journeys. </p>Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-20751709899303603162021-05-30T19:13:00.000-07:002021-05-30T19:13:04.259-07:00Seeing Past A Disorder<p>Looking back on my most influential supporters and connections during my Apraxia Journey; teachers, friends, extended family members, etc. </p><p>Those most important to me all had something in common. </p><p><b><i>They were able to see me for the individual I wanted and aspired to be; not for the disorder that I had. </i></b></p><p>Some of my best friends, even from elementary school, are still my best friends today. Why?</p><p>The way they look and treated me as a non-verbal child is the same way they treat me now as an overly-opinionated adult. </p><p>Some of my favorite teachers from second grade, middle school, to high school are forever my favorite teachers because these educators continued to communicate with me in the same fashion they communicated to my 'typical' peers. </p><p>By treating me the same and treating me as equals to those, technically, more 'intelligent' than me simply made me feel more comfortable in pursuing my dreams and goals. </p><p>I didn't feel like a lesser student or a lesser person because, again, they treated me as an equal despite my disorder. </p><p>I wish there was a simple way to find such connections. Perhaps it's a process of Trial-and-Error. </p><p>However, I can never express truly how fortunate I am to have made these connections to get me (and my parents) through the Apraxia Journey. </p>Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-75722152368572013802021-05-25T16:40:00.000-07:002021-05-25T16:40:31.599-07:00Self-Esteem & ApraxiaSpeech Therapy is the most effective way of treating Apraxia of Speech. Speech Therapy teaches a child how to properly speak and move the necessary muscles to properly communicate. <div><br /></div><div>However, Speech Therapy does <i>not </i>teach the art of communicating, the finesse of how to speak confidently, or how to be sociable. Once speech therapy is completed, it simply signifies that a person can articulate properly. Perhaps their lisp or 'accent' has been substantially remedied to the extent it's not even noticeable. Speech therapy is no easy feat. It is hard, expensive, and grueling especially on top of other day-to-day tasks. <div><br /></div><div>Being able to speak, because of Speech Therapy, <i><u><b>establishes </b></u></i>confidence, self-esteem, and the capability of presenting oneself. </div><div><br /></div><div><b><i><u>But these are simply roots for future, unlimited growth. </u></i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>As many of you know, I never graduated from Speech Therapy. I decided to withdraw at the young age of 16 and never looked back. </div><div><br /></div><div>At 27 years old, I still have a perpetual 'accent' and, for the life of me, I despise any word ending in '-or.' However, I truly believe I got to where I am today as a college-educated, legal professional (going for her MBA, yay!) because of my confidence and courage to proceed even when I'm terrified. </div><div><br /></div><div>I look at opportunities and sometimes they seem impossible; I suppose you could say I still identify as that shy little girl, non-verbal in the corner of her daycare classroom. </div><div><br /></div><div>However, I know to always ask myself, "If I didn't have Apraxia, could I do this? Would my friends be able to do this?" Often my answer is always "Duh, yes! Go for it!"</div><div><br /></div><div>Growing up my parents always invested just as much time in my confidence-building than speech therapy. I used to think it was because I deserved a 'break,' hence why we were such heavy participants in Girl Scouts or Swim Team, etc. But ultimately, each program I participated in was a mere investment into my confidence. Ensuring that even though I may be scared of an obstacle, at least I'd have the courage to pursue it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Speech Therapy is important, it is vital obviously in the Apraxia Journey. </div><div><br /></div><div>However, investing time and energy into building a child's confidence is just as important and it's often found by having them participate and try new things. </div><div><br /></div></div>Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-23531771702140749962021-04-21T21:19:00.007-07:002021-04-22T09:41:49.998-07:00Middle School, Puberty, and Apraxia? You've Got to Be Kidding<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hzAsWLG3jaM/YID8GCMPyII/AAAAAAAACQA/GXdvSSCVDZERTC4XUDea374a0UtdrrQGQCLcBGAsYHQ/iu.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="433" data-original-width="612" height="227" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hzAsWLG3jaM/YID8GCMPyII/AAAAAAAACQA/GXdvSSCVDZERTC4XUDea374a0UtdrrQGQCLcBGAsYHQ/iu.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Ah, the trials and tribulations of the pre-teen years.</div><p></p><p>Being anywhere near the age of 11 to 13 years old is already challenging enough. Puberty, friendships, the awkward questions between asking your crush if they like you and "Mom, how do I shave?"- it's all overwhelming. </p><p>Throw in Apraxia and on top of these frequent middle school obstacles, those diagnosed seem to face another onslaught of challenges. My top two internal struggles at the ripe age of 12 (at least from what I found in my plethora of diary entries) were: </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p>1. "People say I talk funny but I have to do this presentation in class. How do I do it without being made fun of..." or </p><p>2. "My crush said I looked cute but they wouldn't date anyone who talks like me, what does that mean?"</p></blockquote><p>Oh, if only I could go back and talk to Middle School Aly. Or actually, if I could go back and give some people a piece of my mind...</p><p>Point is, this delicate balance between Apraxia-challenges and puberty challenges occur to all pre-teens currently diagnosed with the disorder. Perhaps the most challenging aspect is managing one's well being, while simultaneously mitigating Apraxia's effects and facing what every pre-teen faces: puberty, awkwardness, and self-consciousness. </p><p>I often find that both parents and professionals alike also face this balancing challenge when assisting in the well-being of those in this age-demographic. Even managing the Apraxia-challenges or Puberty-challenges on their own is difficult, having to maintain and address both simultaneously is twice as difficult. </p><p>My only advice for those going through this phase is to try to engrain and immerse a pre-teenager in any sort of activity or hobby that they would otherwise participate in if they <i>didn't</i> have Apraxia. It's a risk, it's always a risk, but being able to equip any young person to do a hobby, activity or sport and shaping their initial confidence in such an unstable period is vital. </p><p>I can only speak from my experiences that my most cherished moments in Middle School were the ones when I felt like a 'normal kid' and not a speech-therapy test subject. I enjoyed Chorus, dancing with the Cheer Squad, and even camping with my Girl Scout Troop. In between all of those joyful moments, which I am grateful to have positive memories in my middle school years, I also recall the anxiety of participating in class and attending School Speech Therapy.</p><p>The anxiety of being 'found out' for having a disorder and attending therapy was so extreme that I quit saying 'Here' during attendance, I strictly said 'Present' as I could pronounce it better. Even more impressive-due to my worries on others' finding out' about my therapy sessions- I lied for 2 years about being a part of a Library Volunteer Program. In this fake volunteer program, I left class for 30 minutes, once a week, went to the library and helped organize books. In reality this was speech therapy (that just also happened to be in the library). Now I hated lying, but I'd rather be a liar than the girl who spoke funny. So the one time someone challenged me about the authenticity of this program, I stayed up nearly all night creating a fake-laminated volunteer badge, school logo, my name, and a bar code to really solidify the reality of this Fake-Program. Apparently in middle school having a laminated badge and a bar code can make anything (even a fake volunteer program) seem official. </p><p>Ultimately, Middle School and the Pre-Teen Years are rites of passage. Cliche, yes, but these years are natural stepping stones in becoming a productive teenager and learning from silly mistakes. </p><p>For those diagnosed with Apraxia, this period is marked with their continued work to overcome the speech disorder, but also developing the essential skills and habits of navigating a world that isn't perfectly structured for those with unique needs. So what better opportunity than now to allow them to try a new hobby, sport, or activity-any attempt at building such confidence, is a foundation for growing confidence. </p>Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-40914299089390022522021-01-27T14:22:00.001-08:002021-01-27T14:22:17.074-08:00Self Image with Apraxia<p>The concept of one's self-image. </p><p>A guiding point for adult self-help books and even a psychological 'phenomenon.' Is it at all possible that how we introspectively view ourselves translates into our outward appearance? </p><p>When a child says, "I'm not good at Math." By failing a test in mathematics, it merely solidifies their self-image of being bad at math. </p><p>Personally, playing Volleyball, if I don't say aloud, "I can serve this ball." I will always miss the serve. I constantly envision missing my serve prior to saying my self-assuring phrase. If I believe I'll miss it, then I usually miss it. If I believe I'll make it, or even tell myself I can make the serve, I'll usually make it. </p><p>After reading, a bit too much during quarantine, I started to wonder how one's self-image as a child with apraxia is formed. Do children with Apraxia gain a stronger sense of their self-image at a younger age, than those that do not have Apraxia? </p><p>Do children with Apraxia grow to have a more confident self-image, a more critical self-image, or even a negative self-image as adults?</p><p>I wish I knew the answers to the above questions, but I can only attest to my experiences and those around me. </p><p>I would argue that children with Apraxia become more self-aware earlier than those without Apraxia. As a child with this speech disorder, you're aware at a young age that you're different. This is brought quickly to ones attention sometimes as young as 5 years old, especially when others say 'You talk funny,' or you notice you're pulled out of class to go to speech therapy while your peers get to stay in the respective classroom. </p><p>These slight interactions obviously cause a level of self-awareness. You at least realize your schedule or your voice for some reason is different than those around you. </p><p>Now whether or not that's a good thing or a bad thing, I suppose it's a little bit of both. As a kid, being self-aware that you're 'different' is equivalent to embarrasingly walking out of the bathroom with toilet paper on your shoe. Most kids don't want to be different. They want to fit in. </p><p>As an adult, however, the skills of being self-aware comes in handy more often than not. Many adults don't want to be self-aware, or introspective; it's an uncomfortable position to address one's weaknesses. Well, for those that grew up with Apraxia we've lived with our weaknesses and being self-aware about them isn't a bad thing, it just is what it is. </p><p>Now as far as growing into having a more self-confident image of oneself as a young adult or teenager with Apraxia? This, I'd argue, depends. It's variable on one's environment around them and their support system. The biggest strength is that these children with Apraxia as they get older have a great skill already established: Identifying and being comfortable with their weaknesses and making mistakes. </p><p>This skill, in it of itself, is something that the academia system doesn't teach. It can't, the system teaches these children for a minimum of 12 years-their entire life-that the best way to excel is by studying, getting A's, and never making a mistake. </p><p>Those with Apraxia have balanced that atmosphere with their obvious 'weakness,' their speech. They already witness, even if they don't fully comprehend it, that the realities of the world and society isn't wrapped around success or even passing a test. </p><p>It's marked with living and being aware of one's weaknesses, and even being okay with them. </p><p>I'd argue a person with Apraxia and their self image is fragile. It's based on multiple variables. But I'd also argue it has the most exponential room for growth. Children with Apraxia are already taught the realities of being self-aware. This opportunity merely translates to their potential for self-awareness as a successful adult. </p>Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-81742521486435130262021-01-07T10:50:00.001-08:002021-01-07T10:58:23.632-08:00Apraxia & Bullying <h4 style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-weight: normal;"><span>I had my fair share of childhood bullying, being non-verbal and speaking with a 'funny accent' (plus the braces and overall scrawniness) made me a great target. </span></span></h4><h4 style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-weight: normal;"><span><br /></span><span>It's disappointing still today when bullying is excused as 'just kids being kids' or even a 'rite of passage.' Yet talk to any senior citizen and they still vividly recall their bully's name and the trauma inflicted. </span></span></h4><h4 style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-weight: normal;"><span><br /></span><span>Bullying also strikes a special nerve when you witness your child diagnosed with Apraxia facing it. They're already struggling to talk and now some punk is belittling them? Seriously? </span></span></h4><h4 style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-weight: normal;"><span><br /></span><span>So what do you do if you know it's happening, or suspect it, or even worse-you witness it? Call the police, better yet let's call Liam Neeson to teach them a lesson. Well, one could dream. </span></span></h4><h4 style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-weight: normal;"><span><br /></span><span>After my varying experiences with numerous bullies; here are my takeaways:</span></span><ul></ul></h4><h4 style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><u>1. Ownership of Your Reaction is Empowering: </u></h4><h4 style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">My parents always instilled in me that bullies were only mean because they're cowardly, and looking to make others as miserable as they were. This is great and all, but as a kid this went way over my head. <br /></span><ul style="text-align: left;"></ul><span style="font-weight: normal;">What made more sense was that I couldn't control the bully, but I could control my reaction. I knew if I talked back or even verbally defended myself, the bullying would continue. It's not like bullies say, "Oh you're right, I'll leave you alone." They feed off reactions. Thus began my very early habit of staying silent and ignoring them. I'd eventually learn to perfect this skill by ignoring them and slowly walking towards the closest teacher or aide for them to witness it and intervene. I'd also later learn that sometimes relying on friends and immediately running to the nearest adult is sometimes needed.</span></h4><h4 style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h4><h4 style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">But at least for the early days of bullying, focusing and controlling my reaction gave me the one thing I desperately wanted at the time of insecurity- control of my well-being. <br /></span><ul style="text-align: left;"></ul><u>2. A Meeting Goes A Long Way:</u><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></h4><h4 style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">When people give you a casual reminder in passing, it's so easy to forget. Dropping your child off and, in passing, telling the teacher that "Hey can you keep an eye on Adam, I think that kid Ben is bullying him at Recess." You may think this is sufficient, but the teacher is human too. They're watching and teaching a lot of kids at once, come Recess they may forget about your in-passing comment and the bullying will go unaddressed. <br /></span><ul style="text-align: left;"></ul><span style="font-weight: normal;">My tip: Set up a meeting with the Teacher as soon as you get a sneaky suspicion of bullying. A private one-time meeting will go so much further than an in-passing comment. <br /></span><ul style="text-align: left;"></ul><u>3. Friendships: </u></h4><h4 style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">There's power in numbers, that goes for your network of parents and the playground network. A child that is already isolated, especially one with Apraxia, will continue to be isolated. Even worse in this isolation, bullies are likely to target the isolated ones more than kids within a larger group. So how to combat this? <br /></span><ul style="text-align: left;"></ul><span style="font-weight: normal;">A child needs the tools to bridge themselves with others, but if they're non-verbal this may seem twice as difficult. Parents, this is when you come in. By having playdates and meeting with other families with similar-aged kids, you're building a network that can carry over to the playground. Best of all within these small, private playgroups-you can witness the interactions. If a child there asks, "Why is she speaking funny?" You can easily respond in a controlled environment. <br /></span><ul style="text-align: left;"></ul><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">My favorite method was a parent called over their child with Apraxia plus the inquisitive one and just had a simple conversation. They asked their child, "Do you like it when she says you speak funny?" The child with Apraxia responded with a no by shaking their head. The inquisitive child looked a bit embarrassed, but the Mom flawlessly responded, "No need to be embarrassed, now you know for next time. [Name] just speaks a little differently because of something called Apraxia, he's still finding his voice." <br /></span><ul style="text-align: left;"></ul><span style="font-weight: normal;">By incorporating the child into the conversation of 'Hey do you like being called that?' gives them two things: Ownership of the Conversation and Involvement. It's a very preliminary step in the later challenges of self-advocating as a Teenager and an Adult. </span></h4>Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-69794382747386795532020-09-25T10:50:00.001-07:002020-09-25T13:59:34.503-07:00Dear Apraxia<p> Dear Apraxia, </p><p>I am now 26 years old and still explain to people why I speak the way I do. </p><p>Sometimes I wonder what's more annoying: not being able to talk to people or defend the way I speak. All in all, I know my speech is what makes me, well, me. It's my mechanism to express anger, passion, and communicate my needs. </p><p>Because of you, Apraxia, my memories and childhood videos seem to contradict. I have early memories of talking to my cousins, camping by a lake, and playing on the river-even jumping off of a boat. I remember talking to those around me, saying, "Did you see what I just did?!" Watching early childhood videos today-all that I hear is complete babbling. I don't even know what I'm saying, I don't understand 5 year old me. </p><p>It's strange and alarming. </p><p>After 13+ years in speech therapy, I thought I overcame your greatest of hurdles. Because of you, I attended speech therapy two to three times a week, up to an hour per session, repeating the same old dreaded 'R' sound. </p><p>A speech pathologist would always give me a sheet of homework to do at home, which I'd say "Sure, okay." My dad would try to reinforce the homework, but how exactly could he? My mathematics homework alone (that was <i>actually </i>graded) was taking me 3 hours to do every night. </p><p>Speech therapy took about 1,950 hours of my childhood, on top of the 3,250 hours spent in a classroom from Pre-K to 12th Grade. </p><p>None of the calculations above even include time spent doing homework.</p><p>It was a challenge, it was difficult, it was consuming; it was all because of you Apraxia. </p><p>I honestly have every reason to not like you, nor my voice, and to only speak when I absolutely have to. I don't have to socialize; I don't have to be a people-person. </p><p>Even as an adult, my stomach sometimes churns as I hear other adults with Apraxia that sound completely "fine," as if they never had a speech disorder. </p><p>Was that supposed to be me? Maybe if I did more of my homework, or attended more therapy, it could've been me. But would I even want that? </p><p>No, I made my choice at 16 to pursue my goals, hobbies, and dreams. All AP classes, best college possible, and do my best on Varsity Swim and Water polo. Time-wise I would've had to sacrifice one or two of the things I wanted to do in the name of 'Speech Therapy.' </p><p>I wasn't ready to quit speech therapy, trust me when I say all advising me said I wasn't at 'graduating level.'</p><p>But I did the one thing that not many thought I could do. Rather than waiting for 'approval' of my speech, I learned to love my speech the way it is. </p><p>My speech and all of its differences, is a testament to everything I've gone through. It's my battle scar, and I want people to know about Apraxia. If my 'different' speech helps with that, then so be it. </p><p>Apraxia, I have every reason to not like you. Not many sixteen year olds are forced into that level of life-changing commitments. But despite of this, I must also thank you because there are lessons you've taught me that many don't even know yet. Thank you for showing me at a very young age that success isn't a clean road.</p><p>Thank you for showing me what it takes to find Hope. It's my responsibility to find it and be hopeful. I will have every excuse in the world to be a cynic, jaded, and negative. </p><p>But because of you, I've learned that it's my job to find my well-being. </p><p>I've learned that happiness comes from within and that sometimes hope is as little as knowing that tomorrow's a new day. </p><p>Because of you I've learned that even though positivity is so hard to find, it's the most cherished. </p><p>I've learned that being brave and being courageous requires you to simultaneously be afraid, while going forward anyways. </p><p>So Apraxia, it may be fair to say that I don't like you, but I can at least thank you for all you've taught and are still teaching me to this day. </p><p>Best, </p><p>Aly </p>Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-7439907554565158102020-09-11T12:26:00.000-07:002020-09-11T12:26:31.133-07:00Apraxia Dating: Good, the Bad, and the Ugly<p style="text-align: left;">Netflix released an original show called, <i>Love on the Spectrum.</i> It's only about 5 episodes long, following various twenty year olds exploring the wonderful and tumultuous world of dating, love, and romance. These young adults also happen to have Autism. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Most are varying in severity and shows itself in different ways-sometimes with over excitement and seeking sensory overload, versus others are a bit more reserved. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Either way, this show demonstrated what I've been a firm believer in: Being different doesn't negate the fact we all have human needs and desires, finding love and romance is one of them. </p><p style="text-align: left;">In watching this show, there were a few moments that I could actually relate to just with my Apraxia diagnosis: </p><p style="text-align: left;">1. "You don't look like you have Autism."</p><span> </span>Flashback to the bad Tinder date that said, "You don't look like you have a speech disorder. You also don't look deaf either, wait can you hear me now?" <br /><br /><div><span> </span>People are uncomfortable talking about special needs, disorders, or disabilities. I've noticed those that live with them are a lot more confident in discussing them. </div><div><br /></div><div><span> </span>My personal favorite was the woman on the show retorted with "And what does Autism look like?"<br /><p style="text-align: left;"><i><span> </span>Snaps and rounds of applause. </i></p><p style="text-align: left;">2. "Your quirks are beautiful."</p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span> </span>There were sentiments throughout the show of one complimenting the other for their quirks, or even self-confidence remarks of "I have quirks, I know I'm different, but I still want and deserve love." For individuals that go through so much already, knowing their own self-worth is admirable and empowering. They do deserve love, they do deserve to date and have the opportunity for romance and heartbreak regardless if they're on the spectrum or not. </p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span> </span>Personally I've struggled with this and dating, sometimes self-destructive thoughts that I don't deserve to find love or romance. How can anyone else accept my speech when it's taken me two decades to do so? I remind myself that other's responses to my speech and their acceptance of it is an evaluation of who they are as a human being. </p><p style="text-align: left;"><span> </span>If they make fun of me or make a rude comment about it, it's a personal attack and it's energy that I don't want in my life. I can't fix my speech, so accept me as I am. These young adults with Autism also face a similar situation-they can't 'fix' their autism and they're looking for someone to take them as they are. All quirks included.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;">3. Dating School</p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span> </span>There's a scene in the series where a couple of the adults attend a class about dating etiquette-breaking down natural actions for those with Autism to truly understand what you should do on a date and why. Frankly, many people could learn a thing or two from this class. </p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span> </span>My key takeaway was they made a game plan on what to do on a date and how to hold conversation. With Apraxia I can relate, but I had to create my own plan. They don't really have classes on Apraxia Dating... My game plan on dates would include addressing my speech disorder or accent from the get-go so I can control the conversation about it, being proactive instead of reactive. </p><p style="text-align: left;"><span> </span>I also had a mental log of common responses. For those that complimented my hard work, I'd say, "Thank you, it just made me who I am today. So what were you like in school?" or if there was an insult, I'd say, "Well we all have our issues, yours seem to be lack of manners."(Dates were usually promptly ended after that) </p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;">4. Your Mother Will Want All The Dating Gossip. </p><p style="text-align: left;"><span> </span>Self-explanatory, but perhaps the common aspect that all young twenty year olds have-Autism or not-your Mom just wants to know what's going on in the dating world. You may or may not want to share it all. It was refreshing to see such nosy and caring parents. </p><p style="text-align: left;">5. Being Female with a Disorder. </p><p style="text-align: left;"><span> </span>The show discussed how girls were not diagnosed as frequently or as often as their male counterparts. A lot of early studies on Autism were only done on boys, but they're finding that Autism shows itself in females and it appears with slightly different signs. Most of the females on the show were diagnosed much later than the males. One of the females wasn't diagnosed until she was 18 years old. </p><p style="text-align: left;"><span> </span>Now, I know with Apraxia there's been a lot of discussion about the majority of diagnoses going towards males than females. Some have said this means it's more <i>commonly found </i>in males than females, but honestly, I have my doubts. There's a lot more research that has to be done over generations to concretely say that it happens more often in boys than girls. I know in due time we'll learn more about it, and I look forward to it. </p><p style="text-align: left;"><span> </span>What I will say though, is being a woman and a young girl is hard already. Throw in a disorder and it makes it even more challenging. Women already are likely to have self-confidence issues, especially while dating, and then if we have a disorder like Autism or Apraxia-we now have an excuse to validate our lack of confidence or lack of self-affirmations. It's just hard and there are no guidelines. The only thing we have to hold onto is hope and the belief that we deserve kindness, love and respect. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Overall if you have a chance I strongly recommend watching <i>Love On The Spectrum</i> on Netflix, they don't capitalize on others' disorders and they don't mock these young adults (which I appreciated). It's all very natural, informative, and gives a great angle about what it's like dating in today's world with a disorder-the good, the bad, and the ugly. </p><p></p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p></p></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p></p></blockquote><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div>Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-90286069937829077362020-08-10T15:56:00.000-07:002020-08-10T15:56:40.191-07:00Hearing Oneself"You're dropping off that last -R sound again, let's rewind and listen to how you're pronouncing," my Speech Therapist would say (a little too often for my liking). <div><br /></div><div>She'd proceed to rewind the audio cassette tape that held our recorded sessions and re-play it back to me. This was typically done when we were at the crossroads of my conviction that I was pronouncing something correctly, and her profession saying I wasn't. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've associated listening to my voice as this horrible exercise, forcing myself to admit I've done or pronounced something incorrectly.</div><div><br /></div><div>It took years, literally, for me to tolerate hearing a recording of myself. I can actually recite back to you small moments in my life that comprised of me plugging my ears if I ever had to listen to myself speak on an audio or videotape. </div><div><br /></div><div>High School News Channel, I did one little segment less than a minute long-I went to the bathroom to avoid having to listen to myself. </div><div><br /></div><div>Spanish College Class-Our final exam was a video and I put in earplugs as it played in front of the class, so I wouldn't have to listen to myself. </div><div><br /></div><div>I rarely leave voicemails; why would I want anyone to have the burden of listening to my own recording? </div><div><br /></div><div>Strange, right? I am okay with my voice, I am okay with talking to others-but put me in front of a recording of myself and I cannot stand it. </div><div><br /></div><div>As I got older, I realized most people - Apraxia or not- despise how they sound on a recording. Most people do not appreciate listening to oneself talk, which is something I find relief in. </div><div><br /></div><div>Recently, I attended a virtual screening of <i>'Finding Our Voices,' </i>a documentary made by my dear friend Evan Gardner who also had Apraxia. If you have an opportunity to watch it, I highly recommend it. It chronicles the different perspectives and challenges of the disorder while adding a personal touch of Evan's and his family's journey as well. </div><div><br /></div><div>I did a small interview within this film, so having to watch myself speak was anxiety-inducing. It's funny that I had no problem doing the interview, but again having to watch it and listen I automatically revert back to that child anxious for her speech therapist to rewind the tape.</div><div><br /></div><div>I watched the entirety of the film, and for a few seconds when I knew my segment was going to come on I had clicked the 'Mute' button. I didn't want to hear myself. </div><div><br /></div><div>But then it dawned on me, that I preach hopefulness and I advocate on finding confidence within one's weakness... If I am truly going to be okay with my speech, I have to be okay with hearing myself speak. </div><div><br /></div><div>So I listened to myself during this film. </div><div><br /></div><div>For the first time, voluntarily, I listened to my speech, what I had to say, and I realized it wasn't <i>that </i>bad. </div><div><br /></div><div>My speech and having to listen to recordings of it used to be punishment. </div><div><br /></div><div>But when I actually listened to my speech, it was like every syllable was an indication of a years-long journey. Even my middle -R sounds, maybe a bit shaky, but I was pronouncing them. That was progress from the 5-year-old girl that was completely non-verbal. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-59457055591889235722020-06-11T12:04:00.002-07:002020-06-11T12:04:22.683-07:00Small Actions Pave the Quest for HopeWe can't control what happens, but we can control our response.<br />
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In the midst of an Apraxia journey, comorbidities, and now the economic and emotional toll of COVID-19-finding a way to respond feels next to impossible when we're overwhelmed and emotionally drained.<br />
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We think about this 'response', and we just can't tangibly say what this response is.<br />
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Now more than ever, our response to crisis-mode is action.<br />
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It's a small action, it's setting up an alarm in the morning and knowing that you cannot hit s<i>nooze</i>. It's getting up every day when you just really don't want to.<br />
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It's as simple as making your own schedule and sticking to it in this new normal, assuring yourself you will make breakfast and coffee at 8am every day.<br />
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On my Apraxia Journey, which has lasted the last twenty years, I learned I can't control everything. I've had plenty of defeated moments of wondering why I have to deal with this and how on earth am I going to respond, but I discovered on my own journey and life itself-just finding one small action to perform is the strongest response we have.<br />
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I can't control the bullies, but I can control how I respond.<br />
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I can't control the exams, but I can control how I study.<br />
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With age, these issues and responses get more difficult.<br />
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I can't control what college I get into, but I can control my application and my decision to attend.<br />
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I can't control the date that just insulted my speech, but I can control if I dump my glass of water on him or politely rebut.<br />
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We can't control a global pandemic, but we can control how we act.<br />
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Finding the strength to act when overwhelmed, no matter how small that action is, speaks volumes.<br />
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Some confuse this finding strength to simply act as confidence. But those doing so, don't necessarily feel confident, perhaps simple actions are the scariest thing they've found themselves having to do.<br />
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During these times, some are hesitant to even wake up after their alarm clock. What's the point of waking up on time if you're cooped up in the house, or your child doesn't have online school until 11am?<br />
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But that millisecond action of turning off your alarm, not hitting <i>snooze</i>, and getting up every day-that my friends is your response and your strongest action.<br />
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You're choosing to act, you're choosing to get up every day no matter what. You may be scared, weary, or tired, but you're doing it.<br />
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Deep down, you know the only way to find hope is by performing these daily actions no matter how grand or small such actions are.<br />
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<br />Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-25823789464277535862020-04-18T11:15:00.000-07:002020-04-18T11:15:04.672-07:00Coronavirus Challenges for the Unique We find ourselves working from home, suddenly being a homeschool teacher, and-for some-becoming home speech therapists or organizers of tele-therapy.<br />
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Due to Coronavirus, states and cities have tightened their regulations for face-mask wearing. In California, you can be refused service at grocery stores and any open essential business if you don't have a facial-covering. Some cities have taken it a step further, Beverly Hills and Glendale now give out $1,000 fines if you are outside of your private property without a mask on. Understandably, these regulations are in place for the safety and well-being of the public.<br />
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But the 'public' is diverse, there are kids, teenagers, and adults that are considered to have 'special needs.' These individuals are silently facing a new hurdle in this coronavirus pandemic-following mandates to ensure public safety, but personally fighting discomforts and confusion over new social norms.<br />
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Understandably, we all are adjusting to this new normal. But those on the autism spectrum, with sensory processing disorder or sensitivities, and hard of hearing are having to quickly adjust to this new normal as well.<br />
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Those on the spectrum or with sensory sensitivities were or are undergoing therapy and programs from qualified professionals to learn social engagement and interactions. What comes naturally for most-like hugging a family friend and learning to shake hands without grimacing-is something technically learned and practiced in those with these unique needs. Ultimately through overexposure and practice, a person gradually desensitizes themselves and may appear comfortable in these social engagements over time.<br />
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On top of learning social interactions, there's another sensitivity that appear-especially with fabrics and clothing. As children with sensory sensitivities, a Clothing Tag or even denim can feel like sandpaper scraping against every skin cell on your body. Even if it's 'not a big deal' to most, those with this sensitivity quickly become frustrated, agitated, and a tantrum ensues.<br />
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Personally, as an adult who has the occasional occurrence of what I call my "Sensory Fits," the new normal of wearing face masks is difficult. Yes, I can rationalize and recognize its importance, but understanding the reason why doesn't mitigate my personal discomfort and internal battle.<br />
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While grocery shopping, I put on my face mask in the car and walked towards the store. For some strange reason, I caught myself holding my breath. Holding it-exhaling a little bit, but never fully inhaling. My breathing became irregular and obviously my heart rate increased. I took a moment-sat outside on a curb, and told myself 'Breathe' aloud and repetitively to force myself to breathe.<br />
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Somewhere with my sensory sensitivities the face mask told my body to 'Hold your breath,' as if it was helping me. But my experience, knowledge, and therapy knew that wasn't right. It was the iconic sensory battle-your body says "Freak out or shut down," when sensorily overwhelmed, but with therapy and practice your brain says "Hey, calm down-it's not so bad."<br />
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I was fortunately in the position I could talk myself out of my 'sensory fit,' but many can't. However, all will be held to the same standard- a fine or verbal reprimanding by others if they remove the mask or pull the mask away to settle their discomforts.<br />
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Sure there are grocery pick-up services and Instacart to help avoid these situations-if you can afford it and get a time slot-but the competition for these services are incredibly high for everyone right now. It may not be entirely feasible.<br />
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On top of sensory sensitivities, for those hard of hearing they too are struggling. One of my hard of hearing peers expressed how much she relies on lip-reading. Sure she can talk and sign what she wants, but when a worker responds she finds herself asking 2 or 3 times "What did you say?" or "I can't hear you, what was that again?" And of course apologizing for not being able to hear.<br />
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Long story short, I'm worried.<br />
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I'm worried for everybody.<br />
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I'm worried for this minority population especially, those with unique needs. They now have to navigate a new normal when they were just understanding the old normal. They are navigating at a time in which therapy and programs cannot and have not helped them adjust to this.<br />
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They now have to adjust quickly with less assistance and less empathy than they ever have before.<br />
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The true irony of this, despite these new hurdles, this unique-needs population is more prepared for these new 'social' restrictions than anyone else. They are the only population that had to technically learn how to socially engage, and even though these times are confusing, I know they have the strength and experience to learn the new terms all over again.<br />
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I'm just not sure if the general population has the patience nor empathy to help them do so. And perhaps, that's my biggest worry.Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-38898766750189020342020-02-25T21:10:00.001-08:002020-02-25T21:10:41.186-08:00Not Enough CreditAs advocates and supporters of those diagnosed with Apraxia of Speech, we seem to be well-versed in identifying an issue, admitting something is wrong, and finding a solution.<br />
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Those parents reading this practically do it every day. Those diagnosed also do this every day.<br />
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Even though this journey may be exhausting, emotionally trying, and draining. We see an issue, do our best to fix it, and go about our day.<br />
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Despite our tenacity, when was the last time you sincerely told yourself "Good Job?"<br />
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And I do mean a sincere, 'good job.'<br />
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There is a difference between complimenting yourself as such for your strength and tenacity, versus breathing a sigh of relief that this struggle is partly over.<br />
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I say this, because I can definitely improve on telling myself 'Good Job.'<br />
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I was checking-in for Line Dancing Lessons and I had to say my full name, "Alyson Taylor."<br />
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Despite the simple name, I absolutely get anxiety with that '-or' sound at the end of Taylor.<br />
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But this time-I said it successfully, the woman wrote it down, and we both went about our evening.<br />
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Now, saying one's last name is expected-especially as an adult. I know I should've felt personal happiness or at least a feeling of small accomplishment. After all, that's what you're supposed to feel after you've performed something well.<br />
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I felt relief. Just relieved that I did it. And I wish I would've felt a little more than that.<br />
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I realize that I can't possibly be the only one, it's so easy to get consumed on this journey that we often mistake a sigh of relief with feeling accomplished.<br />
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I suppose taking a small step back, or just a minute, to tell ourselves 'Good Job,' may also help our confidence levels through this journey.<br />
<br />Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12292165220516930756noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-8074667662346831192020-01-15T17:06:00.001-08:002020-01-15T17:06:08.869-08:00Blinded By The Lines: Apraxia & Dating <a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w2YGXG04PUk/Xh-i2QYWMaI/AAAAAAAABDg/ORxKToouhsoF0ZvvZE_xlX5hT27tzK2bgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Capture.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="366" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w2YGXG04PUk/Xh-i2QYWMaI/AAAAAAAABDg/ORxKToouhsoF0ZvvZE_xlX5hT27tzK2bgCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/Capture.JPG" width="218" /></a><i>"Honestly most guys wouldn't be open to dating a girl with a speech disorder, but I was open to it. You just ruined a potential[sic] good thing and probably will be miserable for the rest of your life."</i><br />
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I stared at this text message, in the middle of Grocery Shopping, wondering if I was in the wrong for telling a guy that I didn't want to go out with him.<br />
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We had a few text exchanges over the course of <i>5 days</i> and a phone call after 'matching' on an online dating platform.<br />
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I did explain (and I deleted it before I screenshotted the image) that I didn't want to go out on a date as I felt we were looking for different things at the time. Also that the whole online dating scene was a bit overwhelming, so I was taking it down completely.<br />
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Now I wasn't expecting to read <i><u>that </u></i>response from him, but here I was wondering if I should cry, if I was crazy, or if I should be more productive. I chose productivity, hence I screenshotted and have this beautiful blog post (granted writing it about 7 months later, but it's still a blog post!)<br />
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I could focus on bullies, their insecurities, or gas lighting in the millennial era of dating.<br />
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But I'd rather not.<br />
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See on these Apraxia Journeys, we typically fear people not accepting us and our speech disorder. We're afraid of people not taking it seriously, or not taking us seriously.<br />
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But this mentality, the simple line of 'most people won't accept you, but I was willing to.'<br />
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This introduces a more toxic venom.<br />
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It's not the statement itself that's toxic, it's the underlying assumption.<br />
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It's the assumption that with a disorder you inherently get less respect, you get to be less selective, you have fewer options of who your friends are, or who you date, and so forth.<br />
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You are less, so you get less.<br />
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That underlying rationale, that is what's dangerous.<br />
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Throw in the self-glorification of people that deem themselves as 'kind' for extending one hand to those with unique needs.<br />
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Yet in their other hand, they've yet again drawn the boundary lines of 'Normal People' and 'Special,' or 'Lesser.'<br />
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Some people have asked me what it's like dating with this accent. If I try to hide it, if I'm open with it, and what do I say, etc..<br />
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My disorder though has quickly become one of my greatest tools. If you want to see someone's true character-see how they treat you when you say you had a speech disorder, Apraxia, and were partially deaf as a toddler.<br />
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If they treat you the same, with respect-they're a keeper.<br />
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If they treat you with any less respect or decency-big red flag, run away.<br />
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I could easily have my speech disorder be my flaw while dating, but it's not. It's one of my greatest characteristics.<br />
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It's safe to say that some people- like the one I had texted- assume it is my biggest weakness and vulnerability.<br />
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That's what <i>they </i>would see. But <i>they </i>may be too busy drawing those lines between 'normal' and 'lesser' to see past that.<br />
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<br />Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-57936933699124863712019-12-31T10:29:00.000-08:002019-12-31T10:29:43.887-08:00New YearsThe end of 2019 and the anew of 2020.<br />
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The end of a decade and the start of a new one.<br />
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My posts usually revolve around the Apraxia Journey; however, this one I may digress. Understanding that for those reading, your past year was-I'm sure-impacted by Apraxia or perhaps a new diagnosis entirely.<br />
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Or perhaps it was a plateau year or one of exponential growth for the diagnosed child. Or even more daunting, it was a change for you- a change in career, a change in finances, or a relationship change.<br />
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At the end of this year, and whatever may have happened, you are exactly where you need to be for the coming year.<br />
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For myself included, this year was marked with harsh realities and finding the strength to be optimistic.<br />
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It was realizing that people have their secrets and truly only share what they want the world to know-in person and on social media.<br />
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It's learning that the concept of 'having control,' is an impossible one to uphold. Sure we can make the best decision for us at the time, but there are some variables that we cannot manage.<br />
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And it's also the mere fact that change is often unwarranted, yet inevitable.<br />
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I also discovered that every single individual has a disability, disorder, or even demons- visible or not- and we each fight sometimes every day to overcome or manage these. And as much as we'd love to eliminate such setbacks, deep down these disorders are what makes us enjoy, appreciate, and motivate us to find happiness.<br />
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This year was marked by appreciating what I have accomplished. In One decade I have graduated High School, College, became a paralegal, ran a successful blog, and now serve on the Board of Directors for Apraxia Kids. A decade earlier-this all seemed impossible. Crazy what one whole decade can do. <br />
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But entering this new decade, and without trying to sound cliche, I'm trying to discover how else I can grow. Grow as an advocate, grow as a professional, and as a person.<br />
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But perhaps that's what we all are doing-we are all wanting to grow and often unsure how to go about it.<br />
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So for 2020, and perhaps in this next decade entirely, my resolution is to just 'do.'<br />
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<br />Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-67644729374347928012019-11-21T09:49:00.000-08:002019-11-21T09:49:20.528-08:00Can You Hear Me Now?On top of my Apraxia of Speech diagnosis, and this is something I don't speak about as often as I should, I was 90% deaf in both ears at the age of 2-3 years old.<br />
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No wonder I had speech delays, right? </div>
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Our ears filter out wax, allowing our eardrums to vibrate and interpret the beautiful sense of'sound. However, my ears were not filtering out wax-actually there was such a buildup of wax behind my eardrums that they were hardly vibrating at all. </div>
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My parents discovered this after some stubborn exchanges of me turning up the TV volume, them turning it back down, and me turning it back up again. </div>
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I had about five sets of tubes in both ears to drain the wax. And I don't necessarily recall the procedure but I do recall the pressure and the discomfort. It was scary! It feels like a balloon about to pop and all of a sudden you hear this gushy, liquid noise whistling out of your ear. </div>
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For my age, and what little I knew of the human anatomy, I was wondering why these adults were trying to pop my head! </div>
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Anyways, after the numerous sets of tubes and the numerous doctors' trips, I did obtain my 100% hearing which I try to take good care of as an adult. </div>
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I think it's still behind me, but my Doctor always comments while looking inside my ear, "Wow, there's a few incisions in this one--Oh in this one as well."</div>
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Thanks, Captain Obvious. </div>
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When speaking about my short-lived deaf experience, people are often confused as to how to respond. </div>
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Some respond with, "Wow, you speak so well," or, "I could never tell."</div>
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Now others, well, they raise their voice and speak slower to me, "Can-You-Hear-Me-Now?!"</div>
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Are they kidding me?</div>
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They just spent 5 minutes talking with me beforehand, know I can speak and hear them, but the second I say 'used to be deaf' - they lose all ability to communicate with me in a typical fashion. </div>
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Usually, I respond by laughing and sarcastically saying "Yes-I-Can-Hear-You-Now, just like I heard you perfectly minutes ago."</div>
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They ease up, usually out of embarrassment.This brings me to my next point- People must learn to communicate to one another appropriately and respectfully regardless of other's so-called 'disabilities' or 'disorders.'</div>
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Would they change the way they speak to someone who <i>wasn't</i> deaf? No, they wouldn't.</div>
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I know that this is unintentional, and I must believe that people do their best to be kind. But I just wish that people didn't make implications about others. I even mention the word 'deaf' and some people completely change their tone with me. </div>
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This is only on occasion, I know it happens so much more often with those with more severe hindrances or more visible disabilities. </div>
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I just wish it didn't happen <i><u>at all</u></i>. A lofty goal, I know. </div>
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Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-1764680800356093692019-11-20T11:21:00.000-08:002019-11-20T11:21:26.271-08:00On Paper, In Person Special.<br />
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Slow.<br />
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Challenged.<br />
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Non-Verbal.<br />
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90% Unintelligible.<br />
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Uncoordinated.<br />
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These were the labels tied to my name, or at least written on my old IEP reports starting from Kindergarten.<br />
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I have the luxury now of re-reading these reports and smiling, but at the time they were written, there was nothing to smile about.<br />
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I smile now because everyone involved in these meetings-me included- had no idea what I'd amount to years later as an adult.<br />
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You read these terms, these labels, and we naturally assume the worst for the future ahead.<br />
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On paper I was destined to struggle.<br />
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In person, I was destined to be whatever my abilities allowed.<br />
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Paper can change. It's the person-and their hopes and hard work- that changes it.<br />
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These sheets of paper could easily have been a crutch. But why would I want that? If others can succeed without these sheets of paper, then why can't I?<br />
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Time and time again I'd take the harder route just for the satisfaction that I was doing something that the 'Normal' kids did.<br />
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I'd rather fail trying something with no accommodations, then ace something with accommodations.<br />
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And trust me, I failed a lot.<br />
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I took Pre-Algebra Three Times because I kept failing exams given Test Anxiety and my inability to understand, well, numbers.<br />
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When I did finally pass that class-I was 3x as proud that's for sure. No one could tell me I only passed the class because I had 'help' or a 'shortcut.'<br />
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I got a 1 out of 5 on my AP Spanish Speaking Exam, no accommodations either. Those grading didn't work nearly as hard as me to speak, but again no one could take my hard work and studies away. That failure, well, I worked hard for. Ironically, I later majored in Spanish in college.<br />
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My grades weren't nearly as important to me as the work I put in.<br />
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I didn't want a single person, a single college, no one questioning or challenging my abilities. I would rather fail working twice as hard with no accommodations than pass with accommodations.<br />
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Because I knew how those conversations go, two people who both get an A-but one that had 'extra time' or some other accommodation- the other will say "Yeah, but you had some "extra help." I couldn't stand hearing those words, hence why I avoided them at all costs. Don't even get me started on how rude it is anyways, but this, unfortunately, is a conversation that occurs more often than it should.<br />
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This isn't to discredit those that request and require accommodations, many of my peers did throughout High School and College. I had certain accommodations as well in Elementary and Middle School to get me to that point where as a teenager I could take riskier classes and make riskier moves.<br />
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For me, I was too prideful trying to prove myself as a teenager that I'd rather take the risk of failing a class than the comfort of relying on accommodations.<br />
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For me, my motto then and even now as an Adult (within reason of course): <i>"If it's scary, then do it."</i><br />
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Meanwhile, my parents were certainly waiting to swoop in if needed to put me in my place and give me support if needed, but that's the job of a parent afterall.<br />
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My pride, my work ethic, and my perseverance motivated me to challenge the girl identified on paper as 'slow,' 'challenged,' or 'uncoordinated.'<br />
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I had to work almost twice as hard to not only prove to myself I was not this girl as written on paper, but to convince those writing that I was 'improved.'<br />
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You'd be amazed at how much it takes to prove people wrong. It takes a lot of ignoring, very little talking, and a lot of hustle.<br />
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But the rewards of finally distancing myself from the girl identified on those early IEP reports, it's beyond satisfying. Knowing if I could do that at such a young age, then I really can do anything I put my mind to.<br />
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It's that strength and hard work that children with Apraxia acquire at such a young age, that assures me all will find their success and happiness.<br />
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<br />Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-45955475194973622832019-10-18T16:28:00.000-07:002019-10-18T16:30:24.735-07:00What 26.2 Miles Taught Me<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NBr7i8XcQxI/XapHZvd08UI/AAAAAAAABAY/PlrrcTdE80cyHz8pp6P1ozLiW8VJapUhgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/71957040_10219939444894000_5831651210905518080_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NBr7i8XcQxI/XapHZvd08UI/AAAAAAAABAY/PlrrcTdE80cyHz8pp6P1ozLiW8VJapUhgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/71957040_10219939444894000_5831651210905518080_n.jpg" width="240" /></a>Eight months of training.<br />
10-40 Miles a Week of Running.<br />
No Crazy Friday Nights.<br />
Saturday mornings running at 5am for 32 Weeks.<br />
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And for some crazy reason, it was all worth it on that Sunday morning in Long Beach.<br />
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26.2 Miles, a full Marathon, beginning at 6am and ending whenever I finished.<br />
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This was my first full marathon.<br />
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It was about as emotionally draining, overwhelming, and rewarding as you can imagine. For someone like me, who never considered herself to be a runner, someone that started athletics in special-ed P.E for poor coordination; I never thought I'd find myself at a Marathon Starting Line yet alone the Finish Line.<br />
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Fun fact, only 0.5% of the U.S Population has ever done a Marathon. I'd be joining this elite group of athletes well knowing that I still trip once every 8 Miles.<br />
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I ran that Marathon for those that couldn't and for my 26th birthday. I ran for that little girl who was told she couldn't. I ran that distance for people that dream of doing so, but due to health reasons cannot. I ran for the dreamers and I ran to stick it to the nay-sayers. (If you know me, that's not much of a surprise).<br />
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I was chipper and high-fiving til Mile 15, cursing by Mile 18, crying by Mile 22, laughing with hysterics by Mile 23, and shaking with relief and shock by Mile 26.2. Thoughts of my friends saying 'You Can Do It!' and thoughts of that Ex I had saying "Running that far is 'unhealthy' for a woman" (Oh please...). Thoughts of my old teachers saying "You can do whatever you put your mind to," then back to the jerk teacher saying "Running clearly isn't your thing." (Jokes on you pal!)<br />
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Regardless, your brain plays tricks on you during that long of a race.<br />
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You start off with expectations, everyone does.<br />
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Those expectations are faced with reality.<br />
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And your strength isn't when you've met your expectations. That would be too easy.<br />
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Your strength-physically, mentally, emotionally-it's found and tested when reality demands that you adjust, be flexible with your surroundings, and that you somehow finish the journey despite suddenly dumping your expectations on the asphalt.<br />
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So, hm. Adjusting? Flexibility? Pushing Forward?<br />
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Apraxia Journey themes anyone?<br />
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At the beginning of this journey, you re-adjusted your expectations, right?<br />
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Not because you wanted to, but because you had to.<br />
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And the only thing you had to hold onto when you made this adjustment?<br />
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The belief that it would all be okay.<br />
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Children on this Apraxia journey have a slightly easier time adjusting. It's frustrating finding their voice and being heard, but they begin their journeys fighting and with fewer expectations. They discover the hand they're given and try to make the most of it.<br />
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What else can they possibly do? Their naivety helps their belief that it will all be okay.<br />
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Now, adults on the other hand. We are reluctant-we know better than to rely on intangible things like 'belief' and 'hope.'<br />
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Yet, sometimes this is all we have in us. These intangible things are sometimes the only sources of strength.<br />
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Come Miles 18 and over on that marathon, belief and hope were all I had. The training helped, but beyond Mile 18 I saw extremely fit individuals crumble.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QptNiyJxu8Y/XapHZ0_qE4I/AAAAAAAABAc/ZDXw_dG3DrQt3aHvGNuepTm0fY84T-ZGQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/marathon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QptNiyJxu8Y/XapHZ0_qE4I/AAAAAAAABAc/ZDXw_dG3DrQt3aHvGNuepTm0fY84T-ZGQCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/marathon.jpg" width="400" /></a>Vomiting, falling, tripping, and scrapes. Dehydration, shaking, and severe limping. You're trying to focus on finishing this beast, but everyone around you is falling apart emotionally and physically.<br />
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That's when I discovered just how hard a Marathon is. It's maintaining mental and emotional strength when physically you are exhausted.<br />
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It's being comfortable and confident with struggle and fatigue.<br />
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It's maintaining belief and hope when everything in your being is telling you not to.<br />
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Perhaps these factors are also apparent in your own journeys now; so exactly how far can 'belief' and 'hope' carry us?<br />
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Well, so far it's carried me 26 years and 26.2 Miles. I'd consider that a pretty far way for now.<br />
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Special thanks to my friends and family cheering me on at o' dark thirty until the early afternoon! Couldn't have maintained an ounce of sanity without you guys. </span></i></h4>
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<br />Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-70740536722687939232019-08-28T10:47:00.000-07:002019-09-02T12:14:27.387-07:00Apraxia Has Given...<h2>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Apraxia has given me...</span></span></h2>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Confidence. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">A twisted sense of humor. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Appreciation. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But, in turn, it's given me flaws.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mistrust. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Anxiety.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Self-Doubt.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Authority Problems.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I know what it's like to think you're doing something right, yet in practice it's wrong. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We all focus on a child's mere ability to speak and function when they're older, we forget about the emotional implications. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We forget about the emotional lessons these kids witness. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">1. You think you're speaking correctly, but you're not. No matter how hard you try, it feels like you're constantly wrong. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">2. You go to therapy to do something everyone else has no issues with-speaking for goodness sake. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">3. People are different, some you can trust and rely on more than others. You're told to rely on and turn to other Adults-teachers for instance-but let's face it. Some teachers and supposed-to-help adults don't all empathize the same. Nor do they care the same. Some don't see your disorder as a legit reason you're doing poorly. Some don't even see you as capable. You think kids don't notice-- they do. They know who to turn to and who they cannot. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Apraxia has given me an authority problem. I only respect authority if they mutually respect me. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As a kid, I've seen authority discredit my disorder. I've seen authority lack empathy, lack decency, and lack accountability. It's infuriating to respect others when they lack the ability to do so in return, why on earth would I want to rely on them for help? </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I have a voice to tell people to leave me alone, to leave others alone. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I have a voice to tell people I'm anxious, give me space. </span><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I have a voice to express my intelligence. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I have a voice. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In turn for this voice, I found my flaws. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mistrust. Anxiety. Authority Problems. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But, nonetheless, I have my voice. I have my truth. I have my strength. For every flaw I have, there's a strength I have in turn. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Apraxia, even into adulthood, has given me perspective. </span></span><br />
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Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1323326775440098808.post-50564695192315114402019-07-18T21:25:00.001-07:002019-07-18T21:29:18.101-07:00Confidence. Confidence is a choice. Confidence is <i>my</i> choice.<br />
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The Apraxia Conference and conversations with fellow attendees all lead to a common topic: Confidence. </div>
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<i>How are you so confident speaking? </i></div>
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<i>I wish I had an ounce of that confidence. </i></div>
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<i>So on and so forth. </i></div>
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I am not downplaying these remarks, confidence on the apraxia journey-or life journeys without Apraxia-is perplexing. </div>
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Confidence appears arrogant if expressed inappropriately. </div>
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Confidence appears insecure if expressed without humility. </div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WdSkSK-A2Og/XTFG0lfKa_I/AAAAAAAAA9o/vlZw363eAIMX0j6hBFcw1KDCTItSv-fdACK4BGAYYCw/s1600/66447489_2254656594846526_2121001244725084160_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WdSkSK-A2Og/XTFG0lfKa_I/AAAAAAAAA9o/vlZw363eAIMX0j6hBFcw1KDCTItSv-fdACK4BGAYYCw/s400/66447489_2254656594846526_2121001244725084160_n.jpg" width="400" /></a>Confidence is <i>difficult</i>.</div>
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People mistake confidence for being a characteristic, or a person's trait. It's just "how they are."</div>
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To that, I disagree. </div>
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Confidence is a choice. It's a constant, almost daily choice that a person makes.</div>
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One doesn't wake up and say "I'm going to be confident from here on out." </div>
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Um, no!</div>
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If I let you in on a little secret, my confidence was tested at that Apraxia Conference. It always is. </div>
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Sure, I can present-but I nervous talk. Every time I babble and crack a joke while presenting-it means I'm nervous talking to all the eye balls staring at me. </div>
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In a conversation with a fellow attendee, "So, have you thought about going back to Speech Therapy as an adult?"</div>
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The question wasn't a rude one, it was an honest question and I am an open book. </div>
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Aloud I responded, "Oh, I can't go back now. I know too much, I have more years experience in speech therapy than the therapists themselves."</div>
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Mutual giggling, but inward thoughts of "Wait, does she think I need to?"</div>
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Those questions, the inward doubtful questions. That's when true confidence shines. In one brief moment, my self-doubt appears but I remind myself "More people are listening to my advocacy with this accent than they are if I didn't have it."</div>
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That's my reminder. It's a reminder of who I am, where I come from, and using that as some sort of strength to move forward, to not doubt, and to not question myself.</div>
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People asked or remarked on my confidence last week, and I wish I had some concrete answer as to how one becomes confident. </div>
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Perhaps years of Girl Scouts, making my own life-choice to quit speech therapy, or maybe athletics and using swim as a source of strength-sure, these helped. </div>
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But confidence, it's like a diet. It's a daily choice we make. It's a daily choice that I make. </div>
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One doesn't wake up and easily say "I'm going to eat and be healthy forever."</div>
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No, we go day-to-day. </div>
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We go with the good and bad days. </div>
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We try to resist the junk food or junk-thoughts (those criticisms and self doubt? Yes, junk-thoughts) even when they are so easy to cave into. </div>
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And we try to embrace the good, the healthy, the self-praise and assurance. </div>
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Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05080514025428465706noreply@blogger.com