Talking – Or Rather, Lack Thereof

Lately I’ve stopped talking as much as I normally am wont to do.  Most likely I could be classified as being hyper-verbal on a normal everyday sort of basis, but lately it just seems that the opposite is true.  I think I’m in the midst of a transitionary stage of my evolution as a person.  The last time I went through one of these quiet phases was in the summer of 2004.   That fall was my junior year in undergrad; likewise, it was also the first time my brain had ever really started engaging the “filter” over what my mouth would say in class.  It was as though I could suddenly hear my brain interjecting with, “are you really sure that you want to say that?”  It was a revelation of sorts for me at the time.  However, its initial levels of managing my verbosity were dismal at best.  I often tell people that my filter works about 68% of the time now; in comparison, I think my initial, raw beginning of a mental filter only worked about 20 or 30% of the time.

That said, my filter is working about 88% of the time at the present.  Well, I don’t know if that’s actually true.  I think I’m just not saying anything much at all, and am therefore not giving myself opportunities for getting in trouble.

Not that it particularly matters now, given what I found out last night.  I had my interview for admission into the graduate counseling program a few weeks back.   Now after what has felt like an eternity, I finally found out my admission status.



~ by lastcrazyhorn on March 29, 2009.

8 Responses to “Talking – Or Rather, Lack Thereof”

  1. Did they give you a reason? How terribly disapointing. Are you going to apply elsewhere?

  2. I’m sorry to hear that. Do you have a back-up plan?

  3. Maddy – No. I haven’t decided yet.

    Karita – That was the back-up plan. One of a few ideas that have now been completely exhausted. *groans* I just want to help people realize that being different in this world is not a death sentence. But no one else wants to let me do that.

    The ultimate irony, I suppose.

  4. 😦 it’s so hard to wait and wait…and then get bad news. Hopefully something new will open up for you. You have such capacity and generosity to help others! We’ll be thinking of you!

  5. It is so interesting how you are so aware of those things going on in your body. Hope the new changes are good changes for ya. 🙂

  6. I’m sorry to hear that the admissions people didn’t recognize your skills, your talent, your potential to do great things for others. I just spent a day working a conference for adults on the spectrum, and you were in the back of my mind as I heard smart, talented person after smart, talented person (especially woman, who seem to have much higher social expectations placed upon them) describe how they’ve been denied opportunities because of their differences. It made me so sad. But then, seeing the 120 people from all walks of life at that conference absorbing some amazing ideas and information, I started feeling hopeful. It felt like change was possible. For you, my daughters, and so many others who’ve been wrongly denied or disregarded because they look and act and perceive think differently, I certainly hope so.

  7. At times, true clinical depression, which can manifest itself as a decreased desire to express oneself, as it has in your case, can be a miens, albeit a rather painful one, to true insight. I hope that you come to see that this one opportunity is not the only one in the world and that this denial may, in fact, be a blessing in disguise. Perhaps you were meant to seek out a different opportunity that is better suited to your personality and gifts. (Why would you fight too hard to join a club where you ultimately wouldn’t feel comfortable?) You will know your true place when you find it. 🙂

  8. I am so sorry that academia has disappointed you once again. The problem with experts is that they know the one path they took to get where they are and in their heads that becomes THE path. Your experience with disability would bring a richness and habit of ingenuity to them that would be a breath of fresh air, but they like the stale air they are breathing. You would think that those who are teaching the helping of the “other” would be better than this, but they clearly are not.

    There is a process that I am just learning about that they use for people with disabilities in my area to brainstorm ideas. It is called a Circle of Support and it is part of person-centered planning. I don’t think you need the whole process, but the idea of gathering a group of interested and creative people to brainstorm ways to find the back way in to doing what you want to do could be an approach with merit…

    I know you can sit for Music Therapy boards if you have enough psychology and music credits… or you could a year ago… I know they liked you at that nursing home, maybe you could get in by starting as an aide in their recreation or mt departments. Or maybe someone would mentor you–and maybe they know someone with power/pull who could get you back in. One of my friends who couldn’t get a music therapy job worked at a Gymboree and then she worked at a nursing home and sold Discovery Toys–now she owns a business that provides therapists all around our area. She doesn’t have your diagnosis–nor your insights either… When you can stomach brainstorming do it–and invite clever, creative, connected sorts of people and leave the naysayers behind.

    AS usual I am probably being too directive in my phrasing, but this stuff ticks me off. They will not define you and they have a nerve trying.

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