BIPOLAR ACCORDING TO ME AND IGNORANT PEOPLE

BY PAIGE TAYLOR

WE ARE NOT CRAZY OR SLUTTY. (I PUT THOSE IN THERE TO SEE WHAT WE GET CALLED) WE MAY BE MOODY BITCHES, BUT GUESS WHAT??? WE HAVE BIPOLAR DISORDER. AND IT'S JUST AS HARD AS PHYSICAL ILLNESS. IT AFFECTS NOT JUST ARE MOOD, BUT THE WAY WE VIEW OURSELVES AS PEOPLE. IT AFFECTS HOW MUCH ENERGY WE HAVE AND HOW QUICKLY WE CAN GET THINGS DONE. IT AFFECTS THE WAY WE THINK ABOUT LIFE; WHETHER IT'S GOOD OR BAD OR NOT. IT AFFECTS OUR IMPULSE-CONTROL AND DECISION MAKING. IT AFFECTS OUR SEX DRIVE *BIOLOGICALLY*. IT AFFECTS OUR MOVEMENT AND WE CAN EITHER RUN AROUND LIKE THE ENERGIZER BUNNY ON DRUGS OR BECOME A SNAIL OVER NIGHT. IT AFFECTS OUR DESIRE TO TALK AND INTERACT WITH PEOPLE. IT AFFECTS HOW FAST OR LOUD WE TALK. IT AFFECTS THE SPEED AND AMOUNT OF THOUGHTS WE HAVE IN OUR HEADS. (YUP, THOUGHTS HAVE SPEEDS!) IT AFFECTS EVERYTHING. OUR FRIENDSHIPS, OUR RELATIONSHIPS, OUR PERFORMANCE IN SCHOOL OR AT WORK. ALL BECAUSE SEROTONIN, DOPAMINE, AND NEUROEPINEPHRINE LIKE TO THROW PARTIES IN OUR BRAINS, THEN LEAVE WHEN THEY SHOULD BE JUST CHILLIN' OUT THERE, AND THEN DECIDE TO JUST CHILL LIKE YOU WANT THEM TO. AND THEN THEY THROW A CURVEBALL AT YOU AND THROW ANOTHER PARTY IN YOUR BRAIN AND THEN THEY EITHER CHILL OR LEAVE TILL THEY WANT TO HAVE ANOTHER PARTY. SO DO YOU THINK I LIKE BEING THIS WAY NOW???

TELL ME.

Paige Taylor, 17, Bipolar disorder type II

How To Do Laundry: An Original Poem About Beating Bipolar

For Sacha Shapiro Emerson and Dr. Dominic J. Maxwell. You two saved my life.
Inspired by "Last Hope" by Paramore.
Whenever I had pride
three months prior to this
and two years before that
it was covered in dirt, stains, faded kiss marks that were the shade of blackberries when your teeth bit into them.
I realized it was too much for people to handle.
I tried to wash it myself
but the detergent always spilled
asking for help was scary
because i realized that if I needed help washing my pride, it was dirtied up pretty good, and that scared me.
I could not throw that away; everyone needs it
I went to the laundry mat
A lady helped me
and it took two months
before we could start to see
it unstained and warm
clean like everyone else’s
The fact that I could see how pleased she was
made me keep going
The fact that she had a smile on her face every time we would meet to do my laundry together.
Sometimes she asked me to go home and deterge it myself
Scared as I was, I did it
When it was filthy
I always wore it underneath a BCBG cocktail dress
and stiletto heels
I used to jump on trampolines in them
And do back flips for an unknown reason
The sun still blazed at night
It harvested the shooting stars that came flying into my brain
It was distorted
Only Needing Three Hours Sleep
I was buzzing with excess alcohol and caffeine
that I did not actually consume for it was hardwired into my chaos that was naturally brewed and governed by the flow of the chemicals in my body
I forgot about the filthiness underneath
the hyperactive arrogance smothered in wanting to have unprotected sex and a bag of weed and the anger it had the potential to harvest and thoughts
I could not slow down
because it was disguised in creativity, loss of fatigue, and happiness
Until I was stripped of all the clothes I was wearing
And I was given nothing but a different dirty T-shirt
different, but still a dirty T-shirt
It was called Insecurity
I had that much longer than Pride
People were uncomfortable to be around me;
there was no covering the T-shirt...
The Insecurity Shirt
It covered me in the only sample of rancid honey in the world
And it turned black
when
it reached my tired, achey hands
Can you imagine?
Black Rancid Honey?
Bees would sting me
trying to see what I had done to their beloved glop.
Those bees hurt.
The stings contained
heaps of melancholy
rows of guilt
sleepless nights
leadened limbs
not enough food to curb my appetite
sluggish mornings
walls of hope
collapsed
lost thoughts
but thoughts that screamed
why do I have to participate
in life?
nobody likes me
and those bees... they wouldn’t go away
One of them happened to sting
both of my lips
and my lips didn’t swell. They had two little painful holes in the center
of each
and so I could speak of only words that stung
And so I didn’t speak very much, except with her; the lady at the laundry mat
She helped me throw the T-shirt away
(or at least put in the attic in a plastic bag)
somedays, those
ugly shirts
fly back
and I am
counting every pound
right down to the ounce
but I am able to throw those shirts
back in my regular washing machine
at home
and I know how to put on the detergent
She Still Has To Remind Me How To Do That
but I am doing it
I am able to tell myself to be content with the 72.2
and not the 38.0
I am able to put vaseline and cocoa butter
on my lips now so I can smile instead of keeping my lips pulled in, pursed, punctured, prodded, and shut with a
fucked--up
 messy
padlock
I Am Able To Smile
And I Am Able To
know when I should trade in high heels for sneakers
Sometimes, I don’t want to, but I know there will surely be residual blisters on my feet
if I don’t
And likewise, I have to balance my feet
physically, too
I am a spastic kingdom
I am a palsied empire
I am bipolar
Welcome To My Silly Life
I hope you enjoy your stay
My life is a balance beam.

FYI, news flash: I am human.

Morning comes and I'm already stumbling. I fall down. I can feel the tension in my muscles.  My mouth won't close and I sop the floor with a puddle of saliva that has left my mouth. I start to come down the stairs and my less-than-graceful attempt in landing on the floor to crawl down the stairs has me cutting my elbow and bruising my knees. Even though I am crawling, I still have to make sure that I don't spaz and fumble down the stairs. Fatigue sets in and I am reminded that I have spoons (like every other person dealing with a chronic illness or disability does) because of my cerebral palsy and bipolar disorder. I am reminded that 90-something percent of the time (I can only achieve this when I'm manic), I cannot achieve the utter perfectionism and energy that my driven personality warrants and is supposed to have. That even though that internal perfectionism is nagging me endlessly and is saying, "Push yourself, push yourself!" I have to listen to the CP and bipolar instead that say, "Don't please Perfectionism, you can't handle it and neither can we!" That if I go beyond my limits on one thing, I won't be able to do anything else for the rest of the day or maybe even the rest of the week, yet my physical therapist is demanding that I try harder, and my classroom teachers expect me to put my blood, sweat, and tears into every assignment that they give me. 

Why wouldn't they though, right? But see, here's the thing: statistically and scientifically, patients with cerebral palsy use up three to six times more energy than able-bodied people do. It's kinda like going for hikes in stilettos all day long when you can't stand up straight. And the harder and longer those hikes get the more your posture, balance, coordination, wherewithal, capacity, and stamina (which were already pretty awful to begin with anyway) drain and disintegrate. But even professionals like my physical therapist, who are aware of the excessive energy output and calorie burning do not exactly take their knowledge of this into very much account at all, unfortunately. 

I'm sick of getting yelled at for things I hate as much as the person who's yelling at me for the specific thing, i.e. having an "accident" or diving into a depressive episode or falling over and popping a zit. Do you think *I* chose this? Do you think *I* like these bitches of disorders. Hell no. I have no idea why anybody on the face of this Earth would think that I had any sort of control over the things they obviously know I loathe.

Take a second and think. Walk around in my shoes. That's right. Walk around in those stilettos, because you need to realize that everyday I'm just glad if I don't collapse into a heap of pain and bruises, both physically and mentally. And first and foremost, you need to realize that saying I'm "such a strong person" and you don't know "how I do it everyday" but then yelling at me for knowing my limits as a person with a physical disability (as well as a learning disability with math and processing speed) and a  mood disorder, than that is not compatible with the quotes above.

 It's not "comforting" in the least bit to get a whopping heap of too much sympathy, that is, quite frankly, repugnant and explicit, or to treat me as if I were some kind of almighty god. Because news flash, I am human. Humans have limits, feelings, pressures, and challenges, and the more we get used to our individual challenges, the more we learn to cope with them. So saying that stuff about me being "such a strong person" is like me saying you're such a strong person when your dad left your mom at 10 days old. (10 days old is when I developed my cerebral palsy) You've never known anything different and you've learned to cope with the slightly disconcerting family dynamic you've been given. Does that mean you don't ever feel spite towards your estranged father sometimes? Does that mean you don't want to just throw everything away more often than not? Absolutely not. But you've learned to cope with it. That's what I want you to know.

Please understand: An open letter to those without bipolar disorder

Based off of my awesome friend Cara Liebowitz's equivalent written work for our shared disorder of cerebral palsy and inspired by "Slut Like You" by Pink.

Please understand that just because someone is "moody" does not give you the right to say that they are bipolar, especially as a demeaning remark, cruel joke, or insult. Not even everyone who is prone to frequent fluctuations in mood is bipolar. People with bipolar have to have two main types of mood swings that are very specific. These mood swings are called depression and mania or hypomania. For all mental disorders, the American Psychiatric Association based in Arlington, Virginia puts out revisions of a huge manual called the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual for Mental Disorders (or simply the DSM or the "psychiatric Bible") about every ten years. The current version is the DSM IV-TR, and the fifth edition of the DSM is schedule to be released in May of this year. My point being is this: the DSM has very concrete criteria so they make sure that psychiatrists don't go all willy nilly saying that everyone who gets a little bit moody from time to time is bipolar or everyone who talks out loud to themselves is schizophrenic and so on and so on.

Please understand that all of us know what it's like to have normal moods, just not continuously. Part of the criteria for all types of bipolar is that the mood episodes are markedly different from the person's normal mood and functioning.

Please understand that telling people to "snap out of it", "get a grip, pick themselves up by their bootstraps", or "stop feeling sorry for themselves" won't help anything and often times, it will make it much worse. Remember, mental illnesses are caused by deficiencies and/or surpluses of important brain chemicals such as serotonin, GABA, neuroepinephrine, dopamine, and many more. Brain structure also is thought to play a key role. And even in non-biochemical cases such as adjustment disorders, they cannot just simply get rid of it. Leave that to the psychotherapist, who, if good at their job, will help their patients develop better coping mechanisms instead of just leaving them with nothing to lean on.

Please understand that depression is not just about being excessively sad and that mania is not just about being excessively happy. Although these are the main features of the two mood states/episodes, depression and mania also are about how capable or incapable a person is with energy, ability to concentrate, ability to carry out day-to-day activities, sleep, appetite, and even sex drive. Therefore, criteriation E states that these fluctuations have to be severe enough to impact social, occupational, and/or academic functioning. Mania can also manifest itself in irritability.

Please understand the transition from mania to depression. You may feel frustrated with the fact that the things that were mentioned in the above paragraph went off the deep end. Guess what? We think it's sucky and confusing even more than you do.

Please understand that you do not have the right to call me an emo freak or a slutty bitch. Sure, depression may make me a [temporary] "emo freak" with my morbidity and self-harm, just like mania make me a [temporary] slutty bitch. But thoughts of death and morbidity and irritability and increase in sex drive are clinical and diagnostic features for depression and mania. That these are again, due to chemical imbalances in our brains. Also, just for the record, I am still a virgin, thank you very much.

Please understand more than anything else on this ENTIRE list that we are normal people who are just a little more "emotionally action-packed" than the general population. That we try so hard just to get through the day. That we are good people and most of us do not suffer from psychopathy and therefore, most of us will not murder people.

Two Nine Six Point Eight Nine

Written March 2013

My hands become vessels for simultaneous hot-cold sweat as I roll out into the cold weather, snow flurries burying themselves in my skirt. You know those days where you know you know you're going to experience something that will change your life forever? I had one of those days two days ago on Friday, March 8, 2013. After watching an awesome French movie for school in women's studies, my stomach churned. Okay, just spit it out, Paige. I was going to my first ever visit with a psychiatrist and at almost 17 years old, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder type II with rapid cycling and atypical features. I could hear him talking to my mother. "I think Lamictal would be the best medication for her." My stomach churned more, knowing that I was "stamped" and labeled with the sentence, "I am mentally ill and have been prescribed a mood stabilizer... yes, I'm about to say a scary word... it's psychiatric medication." forever penetrating me.
Honestly, it's not that I find it scary, it's that of I feel I want to educate or talk about my mental illness with people or if I need to for medical purposes, I won't be able to because I'll either get one of four.stigmatic reactions or a mix of all:

a) *gasp* "Don't talk about that! You're making me really uncomfortable!

b) "You just need to learn to deal with ups and downs like everyone else. What you're going through is completely normal and every teenager has weird mood swings... you don't need psychotherapy and you definitely don't need that mood stabilizing shit. You're just being overly dramatic and you need to just see your guidance counselor more often and lighten up!" (this is especially explored in Ruby Wax's awesome TEDTalk called "What's so funny about mental illness" who uses her comedy experience and battle with clinical depression to educate people about how physical illness gets far more sympathy than that of mental illness that made me laugh, scream, and cry out of empathy) This is also explored in this awesome comic.

c) *shies away creeped out to the max* "They're fucking nuts and need to be locked away in an institution for life.

d) "But nobody has stigma for mental illness. We all love and support you."

Quite frankly, all of these make me want to barf. They all imply that either mental illness is just a way of medicalizing people's behavior and that everyone who admits they are mentally ill is a hypochondriac. Or they realize these conditions are diagnosed because the "normal" emotions, moods, feelings, and behaviors are severe enough to impact a person social, occupational, or academic functioning. However, these people that know this often take it too far and say that we are "incapable of leading normal lives" and need to permanently hospitalized. While this is true for a certain percentage of  the severely mentally ill, the vast majority of us, whether mild, moderate, or severe can be managed with psychotherapy and/or medication.

I also do not like hearing that there is not stigma. Yes, we are working on de-stigmatizing mental illness through blogs like this and my friend Cara's blog, That Crazy Crippled Chick, where she candidly discusses her battles with cerebral palsy (which I also have) and an anxiety disorder. But stigma has not diminished. Admit it, you were caught off guard when you saw I said I was diagnosed with bipolar II, weren't you? Don't lie, you were.

I especially dislike the dismissiveness of Reaction B. Echoing Ruby Wax's sentiments from her TEDTalk, what if a woman had breast cancer and she saw a lump on her boob, got all freaked out, and went to her regular OB/GYN to get it checked out, and when she got home, instead of being afraid and consoling, he said, "Oh, you just need to learn to live withe fact that you have nipples just like everyone else... the doctor was wrong and you just need to live life like everyone else and not worry about things."

Um, excuse me, but if someone actually did that to a woman who had breast cancer, you would go completely apeshit, would you? Yes, you would. Because you know you're being ludicrous, dismissive, and frankly, a tad bit mean. Yet, the same person who knows that this action is not just on a person with cancer, might, scarily and confusingly, do virtually the exact same thing to a person with mental illness, just simply in a different context.

For non-mentally ill people to understand the concept above to a clear extent, here's my personal feeling of what living with bipolar is like. These awesome videos like TEDxTerryTalks - Laura Bain - Living with Bipolar Type II (she has the exact same time I have) and the awesome bipolar documentary, Up/Down, the bipolar experience is often described as winter versus summer, slippers versus stilettos, kites versus anchors, etc and while I agree very much with all of these analogies and metaphors, I thought it would be best to come up with my own.

So, for me, being bipolar is like being a trampoline all the time. "Jumping" represents your mood, energy, and ability to carry out day-to activities. You often jump normally, with just enough height to have fun, enjoy jumping, and want to jump again. But without warning (even though you know full well you have the ability to do this), you jump so high that you get almost "addicted" to jumping and have your head in the clouds. You're ecstatic, so you jump really high and because you're ecstatic, you have all this energy and you feel like you could jump even further into space. You never get tired, you want to jump all day long and feel rested after two to five hours of sleep. You want other people to jump with you and you get things done really fast and efficiently. You think you'll never come down, and even though you're scaring the shit out of yourself for acting this way, you feel amazing and never want to feel any other way. You're up in the sky at night and shooting stars take the place of normal thoughts. They sneak into your brain, blocking normal thoughts and are bright, amazing, and fast. They  emulate race cars in this way, and you can't slow them down. Then, one day, out of the blue, you come down and crash and leave a giant, gaping, ugly hole in the trampoline. It gets really dark and cold. You can't get out of the hole.  Even if you can sort of get out of the hole temporarily, you always revert back to your depressive episode. It feels as though your arms and legs are made of lead. You want to eat all the time and you stay up until the wee hours of the morning, despite severe fatigue. When you do go to bed on time, you almost always wake up in the middle of the night sweating. You are extremely sensitive to any form of mild criticism or rejection. You lose all motivation to do anything. You're stuck in the gaping hole, hopeless, trapped, tearful, confused, and cold. All your thoughts are gone. They come slow, staggered, jagged, sharp, heavy. Even so, all these thoughts are anyways are thoughts about the giant hole you're trapped in. People wonder what happened to the jumping and you're not jumping anymore, not ecstatic or normal, just not jumping at all. You have to jump because people need you to jump.

So, let me ask you this: After that whole analogy, do you really think I'm "crazy" or "making the choice" to be this way. Hell no.

Just tell me, am I Paige/crazy person now or am I just still plain old Paige? You tell me. Because, guess what? I actually don't like the phrase "You are not your diagnosis" simply because my diagnoses of cerebral palsy and bipolar disorder are part of who I am and they do define part of me, but only a mere piece of this huge puzzle that defines Paige Taylor. Yes, 296.89 is part of me (DSM code for bipolar II) but it doesn't own my entirety.

A Fictional Inspiration of Nonfictional Proportion

Written June 2012.

As the videographer zooms in on the scene in the hospital, you see a young lady. She’s pale, really pale. Her pallor even runs through her lips and bare head that look blue from anemia and cyanosis. She has a very anxious look on her face, yet she manages to give off a faint, yet genuine smile.

This young lady is Kate Fitzgerald from the movie My Sister’s Keeper. I know there is a book based off of it, and I know that would be a more accurate portrayal of Kate’s character, but I have not read the book yet, and besides, I thought Sofia Vassileva did a fantastic job of portraying Kate. A young Meryl Streep is what Sofia is to me.

Kate has a rare form of cancer called acute promyelocytic leukemia (APL). Leukemia is cancer of the blood-forming organs, such as white blood cells and bone marrow.

When I watched this film in health class for the first time (and then preceded to watch the rest at home online off of Amazon Instant Video with my leftover gift card money), I was absolutely captivated and mesmerized to say the least about Kate’s free spirit.

I have read many books and watched many movies with and about kids with cancer in them, and of course they all touched me in some way, but Kate's spunky, sometimes even saucy personality resonated through every part of my being.

Kate is not the protagonist of the story, contrary to what one might think. The protagonist is her her sister Anna (Abigail Breslin), who was conceived by means of in vitro fertilization. The reason her parents (Cameron Diaz and Jason Patric) chose to undergo IVF was controversial. Anna was conceived to be a perfect chromosomal match to Kate. That way, if Kate needed bone marrow, blood, or many other things, the doctors could be sure that Kate would be getting a perfect match.

Until Anna is 11 years old,, she complies to every procedure. However, that year, when Anna is forced to give a kidney to Kate, she files a law suit against her parents for medical emancipation with help of slick and savvy TV lawyer, Campbell Alexander (Alec Baldwin) who shows great interest in Anna's case.

Anna, heard weeping and yelping from the other room. She came into find her sister’s nose dripping with blood, while she was choking on her cries. They both had an extremely guilty look on the face, almost as if to tacitly say with their facial expressions, “I’m sorry, sissy.” This reminded me of me and my own sister sometimes, as she sees urine or blood on the floor from when I hit my head or didn’t get to the bathroom on time. Yet, as I think about it, it is so much different than my life anyways. I’m not bald, I don’t have nose bleeds every five seconds, and I don’t have to come to terms with the fact that there is more than likely a possibility that I might die soon, but I don’t know when.

Kate and Anna's relationship reminded me so much of me and my own sister. Claudia gave up so much for me and I just feel so guilty sometimes. “I see what other kids do, they go to parties and they get to go to the beach.” I could just envision that coming out of Claudia's mouth. Also the time when Kate called Anna into the room: “Sissy!” and she had to wipe her face, that was very much the same to us. I cried then too.

There were other similarities with family dynamics besides the sisters. One scene, Kate's mother and father, Sara and Brian come into their daughter's room after she has been lying in bed for two weeks. While Brian takes a softer approach, gently persuading her, but also consoling her, Sara basically forces her with stern words. It's not that Sara doesn't love Kate, it's more that Sara opts for tough love: “But I'm sick and I'm tired and I'm ugly.” said Kate candidly over cries. People may mistake Sara's way to be cruel, but it is rooted by love. This reminded me so much of the juxtaposition of my mum and dad.

I guess you could say that Kate had gotten used to it, but I think she was already made to be like this. Kate is happy, cancer or not. I don’t think her cancer changed much about her positivity. Of course she would have the occasional “woe as me” moment, but her spirit wasn’t shattered by her illness. I admire people like that, because I, who only has a moderate case of cerebral palsy feel like I want to give up half the time.

I don’t think it was the cancer that taught her to love life. I remember one of the scenes in the movie: Kate tricks the nurse into thinking she drank her own urine sample when she fills the medical jar with apple juice and says “What a b****!”as she leaned back and laughed a very similar laugh to me.

Kate's father, Brian said that even though the Fitzgerald family certainly is exposed to aspects of daily family life, there are certainly a decent number of bumps and cracks along the way. When he said this was a scene where the family was playfully blowing bubbles. Kate make sure that those bumps and cracks are smoothed over for her and her family by doing things like blowing bubbles, going to the beach, and eating pizza. Point blank, she does not let her illness inhibit any carefreeness, unlike many other patients with her ruthless disease. Unlike Kate, they may let it take its malevolent course in trying to destroy any lighthearted moments.

Despite her “good sport” mentality, I would not nessecarily describe Kate Fitzgerald as being stoic. Sure, she is strong, tough, and tenacious, however, when she is tough, she is tough, and when she isn't, she isn't. What I mean by this is that when Kate does happen to get emotional, she doesn't bottle it up and she is greatly uninhibited when she feels so. There is a particular scene in the movie that displays this, but I'm not going to tell it because it will spoil some secrets, but I admire Kate for the great equilibrium that she happens to display with her emotions.

Also, relating to the topic of Kate's emotions ,there are times throughout the movie where I just feel like balling my eyes out, not only because it is sad, but because Kate reminds me so much of myself. One of the similar traits that Kate and I have are spontaneous outbursts of rage. There was a scene where I wanted to cry, because it brought back so many things. Anna could hear the most angry music booming from her sister's room. She opened the door to find Kate, a wreck of emotional pain, bitter as ever. When Anna got closer and closer into the room, the more furious Kate became, almost like her soul had morphed into an angry beast because of how angry she felt with everything. A shrill of fury boomed out of Kate's mouth, as she knocked down the photo frames in her room and her sister grabbed her tightly and shreiked “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!'' This is exactly what happens with me.

What makes Kate and I so dissimilar though, is that even though we've both had to come to terms with the fact that there might be an early death, although I was a newborn infant, she is so accumstomed to it. Nothing phases her anymore, and while she feels like she will survive, she's okay with that too, and she is content and complies to everything. She had to undergo countless numbers of operations, while I only had one and two very minor ones when I was little. Everybody praises me, but kudos to Kate.

The first time I went to New York City, I was 13 years old. I absolutely fell in love with it, and now I would die to live and go to college there and I plan on both. My New York City is Kate's Montana. She loves Montana and at the very beginning of the movie, that was the first key component to who she is as a person, after mention that she is the one with leukemia. She reads travel guides on it on several occasions throughout the movie. I admire her for verging on obsession with a particular place, akin to me.

The young woman is also extremely compassionate, especially towards her family. When they feel like breaking down, Kate is “to the rescue” and there to placate them. She is there to rub their backs and be their guardian angel, as she is truly grateful for all the sacrifice that her family has given her as she expresses in the film under a B-roll narrating. I wish I could've been as grateful and her over the years, and even though I am grateful for all the sacrifice that my family has been obliged to provide for me, I don't always openly express it as often as I should.

I've never had a stronger connection with a fictional character before ever in my life. Kate reminded me of myself so much. The difference is Jodi Picoult, Nick Cassavettes, and Sofia Vassileva (the author of the book, the director of the film, and the actress who played Kate ), simply opted to omit the bad parts that I see in my personality.

Kate Fitzgerald is strong-willed, fun-loving, and a free spirit. She inspired me to be a better person. I would highly recommend this movie, unless you are particually squeamish, as there are some graphic scenes throughout Also if you are unable to handle heavy subject matter. I thank Kate for impacting my life in such a big way. I hope those who haven't seen the movie will, because I want you to experience the magic that is Kate Fitzgerald for herself. I have bestowed upon her the middle name Sofia to honor the Sofia that played her, who was also the title character in the movie, Eloise, which was also one of my favorite films. You can never replace Kate Sofia Fitzgerald. I felt like I knew her and I felt like we we somehow strangely connected. Kate was like a sister to me almost and I will honor her as such.

How To Be An Awesomesauce SPEDie/Member of the IEP Team

Written December 2012.
(An aspiring cookie monster's guide to awesome uncensored SPED advice coming from a double-whammy-er with a physical disability AND a learning disability among other things... and not the stuff they teach you in school)

1. Be good at gossiping. And love it and own it.
Okay, the first thing you should know about this is that the majority of each student's information should be kept strictly confidential and under huge wraps. The second thing you should know about this is SPEDies go to buttloads of meetings. Between these two things, you have to be an awesome gossiper. And be prepared for other faculty members coming up to you in somewhat of a crazed and tumultuous manner.

2. Come up with code words or learn some that have already been firmly established.
Because of the piece of advice above, you're going to have to come up with a system of code or become "fluent" in the code that's already established, as to keep student confidentiality respectable. Obviously, for the system to work, I really don't know all of the ins and outs of SPED coding. But I do know some of the methods that they use. First of all, they will often use odd body language for clarity before they start to talk in verbal code for clarity between them and the other people in the group. That way, the verbal code is not so enigmatic, but it's still "a little birdie and you-know-what type" conversation. Another technique that they use is saying "Our little friend..." or using the person's initials.

3. Be prepared to have to verbally bitch slap people and have you be verbally bitch slapped too.
Let me explain. I know this must seem so unprofessional and vulgar and inappropriate. And they don't openly do it, but sometimes you have to. Okay, let's face it. Whether you're in the special education department or a cole miner, you're gonna have colleagues that you're gonna want to punch in the face sometimes. What makes the special ed department different though is that when you're actively part of child's IEP team, you will have to come to a consensus with the other members of the Team, the child's parents, and the child themselves. All that this piece of advice is telling you to do is to not be afraid to call people out when needed.

4. DO NOT (I repeat do not) engage in what we call "low-talking" or odd gestures.
Okay, so, I cannot stress this enough. "Low-talking" is when SPEDies who want to verbally bitch slap someone use the awful tactic of making their voice very low, deep, quiet, and slow in conjunction with sugar coating everything. Another thing to keep in mind do not use weird hand gestures around your face to get people to pay attention to you. People aren't stupid.

5. Make the child part of it.
Again, I cannot stress the enough. Even if the child is not old enough to officially attend IEP meetings, make sure you clear ANY and ALL the decisions with them first. Remember that this is there life and they need to be the one that's ultimately in charge of it. 

6. Don't extricate the option of a four-year college if you think the child is bright.
If you plan on working with high school students, if you think they're bright and you think they have a good work ethic (depression, fatigue, and medical leave aside), and think that the student could have a meaningful contribution to society, please do not extricate the option of a four-year college to them This is explored more in-depth in my Teen Ink article, "You can go: Bright disabled teens thrive in four-year colleges"

7. Come to the realization that they try super hard to gain independence.
Really, having any sort of disability means that you have an innate difficulty with an aspect of daily functioning or simple tasks in conjunction with age not for lack of trying and with a biological reason. So, know that everything is much harder, even for the things that we can do. Think of the line in Allison Iraheta's, "Scars" that says, "Do you know how hard I've tried to become what you want me to be?"

8. Remember that we are extremely prone to depression, anxiety, and fatigue.
I can readily say that I suffer from bouts of all of these and they can be unexplainably debilitating. They can impair our ability to complete work and tasks as well as get through the day and they are not a sign of weakness.
Take them aside during some of the dark times and show that you care and work some of the things out with them. That's how a person who I once thought hated my guts recently became one of my best friends.

9. Befriend them.
This is not to say that there aren't boundaries or you have the licensure to be creepy, but getting to know them or somewhat of a personal level helps them to trust you more with their life. I should know because four of my best friends are or have been on my IEP team. (yes, legit besties!)

10. Make them feel special.
Make each individual student feel like they are your only student. Get accommodations for the as soon as possible and love what you're doing