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I Think I Might Be Going Crazy


So, I was sitting in front of Netflix last night, chatting to my cousin about today’s blog. “Was that Chinese you’ve just had sensational enough to review?”, she said, “And how do you come up with content every few days?” In answer to her questions, I’m not sure how my ramblings are transformed into your twice-weekly entertainment. Sure, some weirdly wonderful things happen, but most of the time, the highlight of my week is a mediocre Chinese and a three-star film on Netflix. Pretty soon I’m certain you’re all gonna get fed up of my tales, but until that point, here are some of the reasons I think I might be going crazy.

Does anyone else have an uncontrollable switch in their brain which turns perfectly normal, everyday occurrences into catastrophic calamities? A friend will tell me they’re flying abroad for a break in the sun; to which my response should be to wish them a happy holiday and ask them to send a postcard. My actual reaction is to beg them not to fall from the sky, to warn them not to get kidnapped and to advise them to use sunscreen. My mind loses all sense of logic in its genuine belief that plane crashes, the actions of murderous, raving lunatics and the manifestation of skin cancer, are all within said friend’s control. My mum always said I worried if I had nothing to worry about. I think I might be going crazy.

In other news, the other day I was in town, shopping for a gold pen so I could rectify five-hundred gone-wrong ball flyers. I was weaving my way around the aisles when I noticed a lady was blocking my path. Like anyone who has an ounce of social etiquette and a sprinkling of manners would, I politely asked her to move in the knowledge that my wheels have the capability of creating epic bruises. She turned around, realised that I wasn’t in her eyeline, glanced significantly downwards and stared for a moment. I could see the cogs whirring in her brain as she desperately scrambled for words because clearly stepping aside wasn’t enough. And then, when it became apparent to both of us that she was scraping the bottom of her vocabulary barrel, she uttered; “Oh, I’m so sorry, you poor love”.

My instant reaction to her inability to comprehend that my dysfunctional limbs didn’t need to be pitied or patronised, was to simply thank her and continue my futile attempts not to laugh in her face. However, the more I thought about it, the more I thought about how much still needs to alter in the realms of disability integration and education. I found the whole experience hilariously blog worthy, but I know many people who wouldn’t. Mash that together and you’ve got yourself a public display of awkwardness. The offended, disabled person would be hysterically screaming about their rights and inequality whilst the other person stood there, baffled and not knowing what to say because they didn’t know how to interact to begin with.

I’m aware that my views on such matters are somewhat unconventional, but I do think it’s partly down to disabled people to change the perspectives of the general public. We can’t just presume everyone knows how to act around us. I could be wrong though; I think I might be going crazy.

We’ve established that I’m an overthinker. My brain likes to go as far as it possibly can with an idea, whether it be good, bad, or indifferent. In every scenario, there’s a story and in most stories, there’s a blog. I’m also on a bit of a mission to find innovative ways to break down those barriers that I keep banging on about. Tie the two together and that’s where the foundation for Written Wheel emerged. Essentially, I still have no idea which field I’ll end up in or which lane I belong in. But as long as I can keep creating something from a mundane night with Netflix and a Chinese, alongside the more adventurous tales, I think I’m onto a winner. But then, I also think I might be going crazy, so who knows?

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