Note:Did not spell check. sorry
It's amazing what one can discover about themselves when they critically view themselves from out of their body. Like a haunting ghost over your own head. Moaning and groaning about your faults but trying to cheer yourself up that maybe that chill you feel running down your back is just your imagination. Those false hopes are like your best attributes of your personality. Trying to hide your ugly faults that people will only remember because they stand out. Because a sunny disposition will never cover crooked teeth or what not.
However, for me it’s different. My ghastly personality is actually misinterpreted because of one of my deadly faults. Reading.
I grew up just like any other kid on the block except that I was a late bloomer. Oh no. Forgive me. You must be think around the age of thirteen or fourteen when a girls body blow out like a store when it hits it summer discount blow out sale. Nah way before that dear. When I was in diapers I was a late bloomer.
When I think about it, it was even before I came into this world that my fate was set that I wouldn’t be able to cope with the real world and be dependent on my own form of drug before I even knew what a drug was.
During my development stage fluid got trapped in my ear drums in the womb. This muffled the vibrations from the world making me close to being a deaf person.
So there I was a bundle of silence when I entered into the world. My opened awed appreciation for the world was like any other my age but I only whimpered when I left my mother’s body instead of the full bloody tears and theatrics. That I assume was the first clue that something was wrong with me.
Life goes on as people say. Except me. I was at a stand still. My older sister was a late bloomer also starting to babble at a late age of 18 months. But every baby is different. So my mother never worried about me when I still kept my mouth shut. I was doing the proper mimicking that babies naturally do but no sound came out. Not even a cry if I was hungry or needed attention.
It was my grandmother who point out to the family that no one understood me except my mother. They told me that my mother and I created our own language by using our hands. My grandmother declared that I must be mentally retarded.
So off I went like being on a carousal ride being swept away from doctor to doctor to figure out my condition. Time went on and it was a year before I had to join Kindergarten when they discovered the trapped fluids within my ears.
I couldn’t take it. I naturally gasped when I heard what I later learned was my mother crying next to me after my simple surgery. Hearing me gasp so loudly I started screaming in shock which lead me to keep screaming because I never heard what screaming was.
I was a newborn infant trapped in a four year olds body. I don’t blame my parents for how long it took for them to notice that I was practically deaf during my early years as a human. It shaped my outlook in life greatly.
My mind was bright and I caught on to the language fast like it knew something was missing. And there was. I never picked up on social grace or other people’s body language. I always think that is interesting.
When I was a deaf I watched my mother like a hawk trying to understand what she was doing but once I was like everyone else, watching became too much. Even looking at people were too intimate for my taste because I could hear them. Like I was listening to their own thoughts.
I was in a special learnings program ever since I left the parking lot of the hospital that gained my hearing. My first words were “Uh oh big spill bad”. When I ran to my mother after I poured all her perfume into one container and covered her bedroom carpet with it.
It wasn't ‘dada’ or anything remotely similar. That always disturbed me that the first verbal message I sent to someone was about me tattling on myself. I am kind of disgusted actually. I entered into a school in my neighborhood and was admission into the special learnings class. I was so far behind that I had to get one-on-ones during school hours and even at my own house.
But everything fell into place don’t worry about that. But this is when my drug came. I was assigned to read a book every week and to tell my teacher what is was about. For the longest time it was only about three people. A girl name Jane. A boy named Jake. And a dog named Spot. Each book was about five pages long. It was normally about how Jane ran or run somewhere, all depends on the content of the situation.
It was so boring and hard at the same time. But then I was assigned real books in my eyes. Stories actually containing a plot line. I was a goner after that.
The lives that these people live were so much easier for me to converse with. I could look into the eyes because I couldn’t hear them talk to me. I heard myself in my mind giving them voices and I was okay with that.
I also gained a trick that I unconsciously created when I read. I became deaf all over again. When I open a book and just look at what page I am on. I don’t hear anything. Not even my heart beat.
It’s a beautiful thing I created. Well it was for a time. I stunted my growth with social skills. So I knew that I had to do something. So instead of going cold turkey on reading I decided to do even more reading through acting. I could look at these fellow actors faces and know that they aren’t talking to me but my character I created. I knew what they were going to say next because it was in the script.
The problem though was what was I gonna say to them when we had a break. I got my answer in time when I saw my dad change in front of my eyes when dealing with a client. All serious and non-personal, after all you shouldn’t mix business with pleasure.
So I thought that everyone I was working with was a boss to me. I treated everyone with respect and waited on them. If they needed something it was a high chance that I would mostly likely do it.
Note: Hi there! This is a lot of story background a musing I guess. Just watched Saving Mr. Banks and just had to type.
