Voiceless

Chapter Two

Most times when people get/have a mental illness or they have any problem with their person they immediately get labeled as a freak or a weirdo. Some parents with children with mental or physical disabilities try to protect their precious child from the name calling and prejudice against them. Disabled persons may never even know some say awful things behind their back. Some never know what the outside world is like. That's why I love therapy. I love it because I can act on the fact that I'm weird. I can act like myself without being judged.

That sounds strange but I'll assure you it's completely normal. I, fortunately, was never sheltered from the name calling and other disadvantages to my situation. When Mom took me in she was sure to teach me sign and take me to therapy. My therapist , Mrs. Tina, put me through a few rounds of social tests to make sure I could handle society's views the disabled and taught me how to combat the harassment I would later receive.

I went to public school throughout all of schooling carrier thus far and I hope to go to a public college too. Therapy helped me cope with the name calling and embarrassment of being called on by a teacher and scrambling for a paper or sitting there waiting for them to move on. Lots of my teachers have sent me to the office for insubordination. (Aka, not doing what you are told to do.) The principle was aware of my situation and he would just send me back to class. There was no point in writing a referral and discipline me for something I can't help.

With my journal firmly clutched in my hand I collected my jacket and purse. TJ sat at the kitchen table coloring when I came down the stairs. Mom was in the living room in one of the many rockers that adorned the living room. She looked up as I passed by, "Do you want me to drive you?"

I shook my head no. My keys were hung on the cork board by the door. I slipped them off the thumbtack holding them up, turning back to the kitchen to say goodbye to TJ. I gave him the 'I love you' sign and tilting his head back to kiss him on the forehead. He wiped his hand across his forehead making a disgusted face. His smile enticed one from me. He had smudges of what looked like, and most likely was, Nutella smeared on his left cheek. I licked my thumb and went to scrub it off but he scooted off the bench and ran.

A safe distance from me he turned and flashed me an adorable grin. His eyes sparkled, shining with joy. I waved him off and he giggled. Turning on my heals I exited the house. My beat-up Jeep sat in the driveway just like it was when I left it a few minutes before. Unlocking it, I slip in the seat and started it up. The engine purred to life and I sighed.

I would never be able to imagine my life without the sense of hearing. There would be so much you'd miss, so much you'd never get to experience. I love listening to music, hearing the sounds of birds chirping, and just hearing people talk. My therapist says that the I love listening to things so much because I can't personally make sounds. Vocally that is.

The drive to the clinic is short. Soft music plays through the speakers while I drive wishing I could sing along. The cheery front of the building almost made me smile. The gorgeous spring flowers that were just beginning to bloom swayed gently in the breeze. Springy garden ornaments waved at me.

Mrs. Tina was sitting at her desk when I pushed the door open. "Ahh, Kail! How have you been? I've missed you!" Her energy darted through the room.

'I fine' I signed. She smiled and motioned for me to sit down. I think slightly disappointed in my short answer.

Fortunately I'm not the first mute Mrs. Tina has helped. She insists it was always her calling. When she was growing up she had a friend who also had an accident that caused her to loose her voice. Mrs. Tina, only being like eight, did all she could to communicate with the girl. Together they both learned ASL to be able to get points across clearly. Now, here she is.