Reblog If You Suffer From A Speech/Communication Disorder
I have a speech disorder called cluttering. I was diagnosed with it in college by a speech pathologist that my supervisor recommended for me. Basically cluttering is a speech disorder that causes your brain to struggle to process too much information at the same time and when you speak, your speech has a difficult time keeping up with your thoughts causing you to speak too rapidly and sometimes, wind up tripping over your own words. It’s often confused with stuttering. What having a cluttering disorder is like (or at least for me):
- When I speak, I have a very difficult time controlling the rate of my speech. I speak waaay too fast sometimes 90% of the time people can’t understand what I’m saying. So I often have to repeat myself several times.
-I dread public speaking and speaking to people so badly that I often try to avoid having to speak to people in general unless I really have to. It also doesn’t help that I’m introverted. So I’m usually very quiet unless I’m around people who I feel comfortable being around or if I’m really happy. This is pretty bad because I started teaching an after-school illustration class to middle-school students this year and I always worry that the kids aren’t going to be able to understand me and they’ve already noticed that I speak very fast and they ask me about it. But I have a really hard time speaking the words “I have a speech disorder” so I don’t usually tell them about it. Which leads to my next point…
-There are so many words that I can’t say properly without tripping over my words. Like for example, here’s a list of some words and phrases that I have trouble saying:
1) What does it look like?
2) Particular
3) Participate
4) Specific and other words that start with “sp”
5) Comfortable
6) Sometimes (when saying it at the end of a sentence)
7) Say that again
-Since I have so many things running through my mind at once, I often struggle with multitasking when I’m dealing with people. I have no problem writing, listening to a YouTube video and watching TV at the same time and being able to pay attention to everything I’m doing but if I have to perform a task while speaking to someone, my brain starts short-circuiting. I can’t comprehend what they are saying. I’ve noticed this for a while but just recalled while my girlfriend was speaking to me as I was writing this. -Whenever I speak, I wind up having to correct myself mid-sentence because I know that what I’m saying doesn’t sound right or that the person that I’m speaking to isn’t going to be able to understand me.
-Whenever I’m angry or upset, my speech is at its worst. My speech becomes incoherent, I jumble my words too much and I have to wait until I calm down before I speak.
-I say “um” way too much when I speak because I am trying to catch myself before my speech falters and to give myself time to process my thoughts before I speak.
-I often slur my words together and when I hear what I say after I’ve said it, more than half the time, I ask myself “what the hell did I just say??”
-I have a problem breathing when I speak sometimes because speaking is physically and mentally draining for me. It’s really embarrassing because I’ll be trying to say one sentence and I can’t get out what I’m trying to say because I have to take a deep breath.
-I constantly dread going to my teaching job on Thursdays and Fridays because I have to get up in front of a group of kids, present a lesson, speak to them about their work, ask them questions and explain other things to them. I also have to communicate with my supervisors in person which is something I don’t do at my other job. We mainly communicate through email because my worksite is separate from the main site. But with my 2nd job, if I have to speak to my supervisors, I mostly have to speak to them in person.
-I hate speaking on the phone. The only people I feel comfortable speaking to on the phone are my mom, girlfriend and a few close friends. And this is terrible because I’ve missed networking events and opportunities to collaborate with people and have gallery shows because I was too afraid to call people.
-Working retail was a nightmare because it involved so much speaking and communicating with people. I always volunteered to work on the register (even though I hated cashiering) so that I could avoid being on the sales floor longer than I needed to and have to help customers. Dealing with one person at a time at the register was a lot easier than dealing a million people coming up to me at once all asking for help. Since then, I’ve avoiding applying for retail/customer service related jobs like the plague.
-I’m constantly angry and frustrated because I know that my speech disorder limits me from doing a lot of things like have a conversation with a person I’ve never met, public speaking and expressing my thoughts. It makes me feel as though I can’t function as a human being. I don’t know how common this speech disorder is now. I’ve seen some videos on YouTube and it made me feel a little better knowing that there are other people out there who have my speech disorder and that I’m not alone. So please, reblog this if you have a speech disorder and can relate. Also, below are videos of myself speaking about my disorder.
in a world where a prominent branch of anti-trans activism focuses on fearmongering about "parents' rights," trans rights and youth rights become inextricable.
trans kids deserve to be called the right pronouns and the right name by schools and doctor's offices, regardless of "parental consent." trans kids deserve to undergo the right puberty at the same time as their cis peers, regardless of "parental consent."
the very concept of "parents' rights" is a smokescreen that enables the abuse and dehumanization of children by adults. this is bad for cis kids, too.
I am very much trans, but I was also a sickly child. I won’t get into all the details but for example I have moderate severity asthma. At this point in my life I need to take medication twice every day for my asthma in order to breathe as well as someone who doesn’t have asthma. If I do not do this my blood oxygen level is around 90%-92% depending on the season and the air quality. This is comparable to someone who has COPD and might be at least part time on oxygen.
I was never treated for my asthma until I was almost an adult. The inciting event is that I was seventeen I got sick. Like. I caught a cold and then the flu and then another cold and so on. I was sick for something like four consecutive months. Just coughing, sneezing, achy, fatigued, and my throat was so sore I could barely talk. For four months. And then one day I had an asthma attack. It was bad. I couldn’t stand without almost blacking out. Even sitting down I couldn’t breathe and talk at the same time. Between breaks where I was gasping for breath, I explained to my mom what was happening to me. That I needed to go to the hospital. I needed to see someone NOW. It wasn’t something she could put off anymore, it was urgent. I was seventeen and suffocating in my own body, legitimately afraid I would die and too oxygen deprived to help myself. She said no. I threatened to call the ambulance myself. She grabbed my cellphone out of my hand. She told me I was making it up and that the doctor wouldn’t help. I would still have to drive myself to school and I needed to stop complaining.
It took me telling her that I had already informed multiple friends and they were threatening to both call an ambulance and report her to CPS for her to cave, and the entire time she was disparaging and criticizing me. I saw the doctor, I was diagnosed with asthma, I was prescribed an inhaler. Then, still gasping for breath, I had to fight to be allowed to go pick up that inhaler. It cost less than $20 with the insurance I was on, and I paid for it myself. It wasn’t about money. It had never been about money. I used that inhaler and took my first clear breath in months. I got better. I wasn’t sick anymore. She never apologized.
That was one of many medical neglect induced near-death experiences I have had, and every time I hear about “parents rights” I remember how many people I had who wanted to help me and couldn’t. Teachers, friends, trusted adults in extra curriculars, and parents of friends all had to sit and watch for months as I got sicker and sicker. Had to sit with the fact that every time I disappeared from school I may not come back because they knew that even on my deathbed I would never see the inside of a hospital. All because my mother’s right to choose for her child was more important than my right to live without suffering. So I’m a bit leery of parents rights over children’s rights.
Hihihiiii
This is actually about the last ask that i just sent you
Bc ive been thinking about it and i fear i may have gotten my wires crossed a little (the heatwave has been cooking my brain)
Bc what i wanted to ask is how/when pollux started to notices lees crush on caz but when i think back on typing up that ask i think i got the names mixed up a little? Idk i might be imagining it
And about the question i have more things to say now that ive thought about is some more
Like did pollux start paying extra attention to lees reactions after he knew caz had a crush on him or had he already noticed anything weird? Was there ever a point where he wasnt sure if lee liked caz back?
Idk just find it very fun when you write lee and caz dancing around each other through pollux’s eyes
Sorry for the long ask i just wanted to make sure
Hope you’re having a nice day <3
Hey :) No worries! It's good to hear from you. Sorry it's taken me so long to respond. I've been thinking about this a lot.
Honestly. I think deep down Pollux knew before either of Caz or Lee did. Something about the way the two of them reach for each other. Like he watches them through careful eyes as they dance around each other for months, not quite sure what's going on there but suspicious that Caz and Lee are not the same as Lee and Pollux.
He works out Caz's crush on Lee well before he announces it. Partly because it's something to hold over Caz's head and they're siblings. Right? Like it's good to have dirt on each other. But also because he's waiting for a sign that Lee likes them in return. Because he's not going to rub Caz's crush in their face if there's a chance it's unrequited.
So. He watches Lee extra closely for months. Watches the two of them alone. Watches for the way Lee looks at Caz. Watches for the way he talks about them, asks after them. But Lee is good at keeping secrets and Pol has his suspicions but he doesn't know.
It's when Theo arrives at camp that everything changes. Because it's the longest Caz, Pollux and Lee have been separated since Lee's return to NZ (mwahaha) and Lee can't quite hide his relief at seeing Caz alive and well.
Not from Pollux at least. He notices the way Lee lingers in his hug, notices his careful questions, the way his eyes can't quite leave Caz even as they're walking to the infirmary together.
After that, his plan is hatched. First he will reveal to Caz he knows about their crush. Then he'll prod the two of them closer together until they realise they're meant for each other.
Bitches love reblogging this post every Tuesday the 18th
I have a Lee-centric wip with heavy themes (Bruises). It's set at this time of year but I'm not sure whether I should aim to post in the new year. What do you all think? Should I post the blurb??
I have no impulse control. Blurb might be a little wip too butttt
Lee's gone home for Christmas. He's grinning when they send him off, he hasn't been back to New Zealand for six years, and tells them of hot blue skies and Boxing Day swims, red pōhutukawa trees and watching the milkyway. He returns with one black eye, a split lip and two broken ribs. Apollo kids heal fast and Lee's a mean archer... But why won't he tell them what kind of monster he faced? Or: Caz and Pollux learn something about their oldest friend
Ft: Caz (Castor) and Pollux, Lee Fletcher, and Luke Castellan.
So guess who's back to working on this. If people were interested....?
We've got Luke and Caz fighting. Lee and Caz fighting. Pollux and Lee fighting.
hey don't cry. on december 3, 1926, agatha christie went missing for eleven days and because the uk police didn't know what to do they recruited sir arthur conan doyle, creator of master detective sherlock holmes, but all he did was conduct a séance to try and contact her distressed spirit
I’m reposting this with a link to some sources from the OP, btw; I’m sorry for not tagging them, but Tumblr won’t let me and I’m guessing it’s a privacy settings thing.
I have a Lee-centric wip with heavy themes (Bruises). It's set at this time of year but I'm not sure whether I should aim to post in the new year. What do you all think? Should I post the blurb??
I have no impulse control. Blurb might be a little wip too butttt
Lee's gone home for Christmas. He's grinning when they send him off, he hasn't been back to New Zealand for six years, and tells them of hot blue skies and Boxing Day swims, red pōhutukawa trees and watching the milkyway. He returns with one black eye, a split lip and two broken ribs. Apollo kids heal fast and Lee's a mean archer... But why won't he tell them what kind of monster he faced? Or: Caz and Pollux learn something about their oldest friend
Ft: Caz (Castor) and Pollux, Lee Fletcher, and Luke Castellan.
So guess who's back to working on this. If people were interested....?
IX: Tis the Waking that Kills Us
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There was no moon when Theo woke.
There was nothing at all but the hard ground under her and her own breath loud in her ears. Her hands were wet and sticky on the dirt of the floor. Her head pulsed, like the clashing of symbols, like the banging of drums.
It was dark, darker than night, darker than Theo had ever seen or ever been and she clutched herself closer. All around her the trees roared and shook their branches in wild, dancing fury.
She was alone.
She had not always been alone, she knew that. Knew of the pantherboys who’d lapped milk from her hands like cats, knew the tree-people with branches like limbs, the green women, the goatmen and the horned ones. They had danced with her, had revelled, unravelled. Had put songs in her mouth and ivy in her hair and danced the dance of joy.
But they had gone.
Something heavy and coiled weighed down on her stomach, cold through her nightdress. It was alive, she could feel it moving along her chest. Theo breathed in as shallow as she could, everything primeval telling her to freeze in place. She fought to keep her legs from kicking out as it slithered over her ribs and bit back a whimper as it reached the pulse of her throat, her hands trembled in the dirt.
Please, please. She thought. Tears stung her eyes. Papa please.
There was something like a kiss on her cheek, a feathery brush, like a cat’s tongue, and a long, long hiss.
Theo couldn’t help her scream.
She batted away the thing on top of her and in the dim darkness she could just about see it — a snake — flung across the clearing. She didn’t stay long enough to watch it land, scrambling backwards on all fours until her wrist in its brace gave out with a snap. Heat shot up her arm and she cried out as she pushed herself to her feet, breath coming in short, jagged bursts. Her hand had gone floppy in a way that made her feel vaguely faint but she was aware of the snake rearing its head by the treeline, its purple eyes glowing in the dark, and she swallowed back the pain, to push, stumbling, through the bushes.
She did not get far.
The trees stopped her. Twisted, writhing shapes of trees and thornhedge, alive and furious in their dancing. In the bark of their trunks Theo could see terrible faces; gnarled in screams and fury.
Theo had never been scared of the trees before.
But now they stormed, now they shouted, now they clapped their roots and rang their leaves. The noise was thunderous and everywhere Theo turned there were more of them, closing in on her, closer, closer —
Theo’s head spun. In her mind’s eye she saw green men galloping over the mountains, saw beasts torn from limb, saw naked women drinking down the blood of men, saw wine, saw fire, saw ecstasy.
Sister. Sister. Sister. Sister.
The trees were reaching for her.
Sister. Sister. Sister. Sister.
The trees reached with grabbing hands.
Sister. Sister. Sister. Sister.
They were going to catch her.
Sister. Sister. Sister. Sister —
It's called the Global Justice Report, it is here. This is an actionable plan which can be sent to legislators and demanded of political parties. We could save the world within our lifetimes.
It has always been possible. It is still possible.
I maintain that the best summation of my feminist beliefs are that men and women are not fundamentally different. There are a few quantifiable differences if you average out every woman and every man, but they are not qualitative. And most of them are socially constructed, and would be fixed if we started treating men and women the same. Neither is inherently smarter, neither is inherently kinder, neither is inherently more stoic or stronger or angrier or softer. Everyone is obsessed with the differences between women and men, with finding them and creating them and distancing themselves from the "other half". It's fucked up
This was the mainstream feminist belief like. A decade ago. Thats how hard we’ve regressed within mainstream feminism and it’s mainly because of right wingers/radfems/TERFs deciding trans women need to die.
Average Kendal subplot: Oh No! gee golly gosh im being forced to fight a bunch of really strong guys but i dont want to hurt anybody if not necesary, i just want us to find a way to all be happy, and to protect my friends.
Average Erin subplot: i am trapped in the bottom of the ocean with the only thing protecting me from being instantly crushed by the entire weight of the ocean being a bubble of ice that is slowly breaking apart. while trapped in here, alone and powerless, i am slowly dying of hypothermia, being killed by the very same thing that is saving my life. as i sit here dying i am taunted by my mortal enemy, the ancient god of destruction who lies dormant in my body. if i pass out for even a second, he will use my body to bring about the end of the world, and he speaks to me in my mind mocking me for it relentlessly. all i can do is wait as i slowly lose consciousness hoping and praying that just maybe, just maybe, i might be saved, but knowing deep down that help isnt coming