The next Disability Blog Carnival is Thursday (Thanksgiving), and it's being hosted over at Astrid's Journal this time. The chosen theme is Transitions.

*pauses to gather my thoughts* I should have realized, when I first started writing more in-depth and complicated papers for school transitions, whether between paragraphs or in life, would rarely be easy for me. But no, it's taken me all this time--well, really, till four days ago--to come to this realization. Which astounds me somewhat, because I've never thought of myself as someone resistant to or who hates changes. Now, my sister, Kami, yes, but not myself. But looking back now, I see that every major transition in my life, that I remember, has been difficult for me or has taken sometime to get used to.

The first transition or change I remember is moving from Texas to Idaho. I was four or five, so parts of the move are vague, but I do remember I DID NOT want to leave. It meant leaving everything I knew and everyone there--besides Mom and my baby brother--I loved behind. Of course, when you're that age that kind of change would be hard on anyone. I never realized, until several years ago, how deeply this move affected me psychologically. Once I did though, all the times I cried when saying goodbye to my grandparents (from Utah or Texas) and family friends (who'd moved back East), even though I knew I'd see them again sometime, made sense. Saying goodbye that one time was traumatic enough for me that afterward, every time I said goodbye to people I was/am deeply attached to, I subconsiously relived the moment. And so, I cried every time--until I figured it out.

The second major transition I remember having trouble with was graduating from high school. Life as I knew it then was drawing to a close, and I faced a big unknown. I was scared and not even sure I wanted to go on to college. Not after what I heard about it from aides who helped me exercise after school. They told me it was hard, a lot more than high school was, and that I would have to have so many credits a semester to stay in college or else I would be dropped as a student. Being a sheltered, naïve girl with lil worldly experience--and who was also terribly shy at the time--I was easily intimidated.

Though I mustered enough courage up one time and told Mom how I felt. Oooooo, she wasn't happy when I stated I didn't know if I wanted to go to college or not. To her, it was naturally the next logical step for a person to take after high school. There's nothing wrong with my mind, so to her there was no reason why I couldn't attend college and get my degree in anything I wanted to do.

The third transition was a natural progression from the second: moving out after graduating from Ricks and transferring to ISU. While it wasn't my first time away from home, it was my first time living on my own. It was another unknown to me. My mom and I found an apartment on campus that was actually wheelchair accessible, and like other students before a semester starts, moved in a couple days before school began. It was weird and unnerving, even though Mom stayed that first week and my care provider the next two or three weeks after, until I got used to the idea. I grew up with two brothers and two sisters, with a stepbrother and sister occasionally visiting through the years. So living on my own was a totally new experience for me. But, it (and the college scene) turned out ok. I learned a lot of things about myself while going to college--some good, some bad--that I don't think I would have had I not gone.

Two more transitions and then I'll quit for now.

The next transition was moving back home. I'd been on my own for about four years now, had grown to like it and even prefer it, but I was also not doing so well. I was burned out majorly from school and in a depression, so much so I was skipping school and was put on academic probation because my G.P.A. had dropped drastically. Not to mention, I'd begun having seizures two or three years prior to this emotional mess, and they naturally had added to it. Then there was the spiritual confusion that came from watching others of my faith doing similar things but being treated differently by their respected clergymen, thereby having different consequences when in all fairness they should have received the same. After that it was to know what to believe or think. To reiterate myself, I was a mess, emotionally, mentally and spiritually. I knew home and family were probably the best thangs for me at the time. So, I moved home. But the first night back, I lay in bed letting the tears flow, and I wondered if I'd done the right thing or if I'd made a big mistake.

Obviously it turned out ok, as I'm still here seven years later. It hasn't always been easy though. There have been times when it's been frustrating and I've hated not being on my own. Here, I'm both a kid and an adult, so while some of the rules do not apply to me anymore, I still have to check with Mom and Dad before going ahead and inviting people over or going out with friends--I can't drive so friends or my parents have to.

The last (and latest) transition comes with growing up and a family maturing. When you're just a kid all your immediate family consists of are your parents, any siblings you may have and...you. As you all grow up, you and your brothers and/or sisters begin spreading your wings and leave the nest. You fall in love and begin to marry. With each wedding new members are added to the family, and, after a time a new generation appears and grows in numbers. It's not the same anymore. Holidays are different too. Not everybody will be together for Thanksgiving or Christmas or Easter, or whatever holidays your family celebrates. For my family, it means we'll be fewer in numbers come Thanksgiving--although this year we'll have everybody but Mike and Jen and their two kids. But we'll have my cousin and his fam, so there'll be 12 of us.

And at Christmastime it means a fluctuating number of people getting together, no more sleeping in the same room for us kids on Christmas Eve...and after this year, no more buying family Christmas ornaments Mom said. (It was a tradition she started when I was born, as she wanted each of her kids to have ornaments for our own trees once we move out. Each year we either picked out our own ornaments, ether from a set Mom bought or from the store, or we made and designed our own.) I was quite sad when I heard Mom say this is to be our last year.

Mike was the first to be married, and as other siblings have and are getting married, as much as I love/like my in-laws, the change of a matured, growing family has been hard to adapt to. Simply because things or traditions that once were, that are precious memories to me, will not occur again. Not the same way they did when we were kids.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy my in-laws for the most part, and I love being an auntie. It's just nostalgia gets to me--like now--and I miss how things were. I miss having Mike and Kami around, and soon Aubree. I miss the holiday traditions we no longer do. But I know Time can't and doesn't stand still, so I must accept, as I have the others, this transition.

moon phase