Boring Criplife

Nothing is happening in my Criplife, which is why I haven't been here. I suppose I ought to be glad for the quiet. I guess I am actually. No wonder no one comes here! I don't say much. Having said that, I am currently attending a weekend poetry writing retreat and there is lots of wine around. I want so much to have a drink. My Criplife has been boring, but my mental health life has not. I have been plagued by memories of past abuse between my brother and I, and also of past invasive procedures I endured while in the hospital as a child. These memories have resurfaced since my colonoscopy. They suck big time. They suck like crazy.
They just plain suck. I am not comfortable going into any more detail than that. I don't want this to become a catalogue of my abusive past.
I have realized for quite some time now that I am jealous of the attention people with cancer get for being "survivors" of their cancer. The American Cancer Society has been very good at spearheading this, along with the variety of events to mark survivalhood. I suppose part of the "popularity" so to speak of cancer survivorhood and books about surviving cancer have to do with the fear that any one of us can get cancer. I just remembered MS though--people with MS have walks and other events, maybe that is because people who are able bodied can get MS. They can get a cure too, theoretically. Strides are being made all the time Those of us who have CP or some other disability that we have had all of our lives are not a threat to people in the same way: other adults cannot get what we have, unless of course they get spinal cord injured, or head injured. But then, usually it is not a life and death struggle in the immediate the way cancer is, but we all who are in this disabled lifestyle know full well that we can and do die from our disabilities sometimes. If it doesn't kill us from some physical issue than we kill ourselves from suicide or we become drug or alcohol addicted, which is slow suicide. When I hear people talking about their books about surviving breast cancer, or the person with the cancer blog on NPR, I want to yell: "we are survivors too, and we have been doing it all of our lives, and we will do it all of our lives until the day we die!" We will not go into remission or be pronounced cured. Then when I am done thinking these thoughts, I wonder if my problem is I just feel sorry for myself. I wish others were reading this blog so they could tell me what they think!