Aly had an angioma which bled into her brain

And everywhere that Aly went she hid behind her pain.

I write here knowing that I am screaming at the top of my lungs from the top of the tallest building in the world but as in a dream no sound comes from my mouth. My consciousness stirs me from my slumber ever so slightly as a part of my sleeping mind asks why, why no sound, why can't I scream?


I had lunch with a wonderful woman from work. Her story is remarkable. There are so many amazing people out there. I never got to tell her that she was the reason I was hired. She understands the paralysis. The inability to move. The tears that come from nowhere and just will not stop. She lost her daughter. Her own cancer is in remission. She made time for me. She listened to my story, and I to hers. And now I want to live with my mommy so she is never alone. And I can cry and she can pat me and tell me it will be okay.

I work in isolation and fear. It should not be like this!!!

I rant and rave. I can't and cave.

"I hope you agree." "I'm sure you can understand." "I think you should relax." Words from people who tried very hard to convince me my perceptions were wrong, skewed, distorted, and mistaken. I get no satisfaction from revealing the fraud because I had no choice but to trust them. So, once again. 

Life is but a dream. 

One of my favorite classmates from my master's program gave me this on one of the first days:

She said, "I found this for you. It was on the ground." I thought my ears were playing tricks on me but she was not appealing to my compulsive need to collect useless bits of detritus. She was merely meant to clarify that she was no plant mutilator. She told me it would last for three weeks and it did. The ear of a lamb. So soft, so lamby.

I can't believe they made Never Let Me Go into a movie. That book changed my life. It better be good.

I finally slept and then I went to school...

to find that my worst nightmare was true. No matter what I do, they want to drag me down. Every year since my return, they have redefined my role, mixed things up, confused and confounded me, but I kept going and I succeeded. But for some reason the next year they said I didn't and gave me a different job. I cried so much today I feel like a squeezed out rag. I am going to stay in the behavior box. They cannot hurt me. I am going to be a good little soldier and do what I am told this year. I am a very good teacher. I love children. They can't take that away from me. I will find a way. I have something unique to offer. Still! TBI or not! I will help and I will create an environment of learning where my students feel safe to grow and learn. Wish me luck! The only living girl in New York. And Betty when you call me, you can call me Al. There are days when I think that I could be in love with almost everyone. I think people are the greatest fun.

Home sick

I feel nearly delirious. I do not want to eat until I get my old job back. I am good at teaching sixth grade math. I am good at teaching enrichment math. I am not so good at planning ahead or understanding what people say when they say something I am not expecting. I have to pause and think and process and maybe even think again about it later.

Write to me if you think I have any reason not to feel totally humiliated that my job is now being done by the woman who took ever for me while I had surgery and a woman who was my assistant for a year? Neither one ever asks me what I did or what to do when...

I am dust to sweep under the carpet. Hide me away!