Why I Left the Church

Again, I don't how to start this post. Again, I have no hard feelings against anyone who chooses to walk away. That is my disclaimer. Growing up as a missionary kid in Japan, I was expected to go to church every Sunday (itchy dresses and all). I loved the community aspect of church. I was surrounded by adults, because most Japanese kids didn't go to church. It didn't matter much. We got to share our lives, and build each other up

When I got to America, I was saddened by what I saw. Churches were deeply divided by opinions and gossip. People acted no differently in the church than they did outside it. Church was not a community, it was a status symbol. Everything was governed by ritual, not by faith. I'm not saying there are no decent Christians; there are plenty. I'm not saying all churches are bad either. I'm just saying that the mainstream approach to the Christian faith for the majority of people gave me culture shock. I didn't like that feeling.

For the next few years, I scrambled to find a place where I fit. I was a Sparks Leader for three years. I thoroughly enjoyed working with the kids, but that didn't help me much. I was consistently being given unspoken cues that I didn't dress right, eat right, and my opinions didn't matter. Most of the times the people who were giving me these cues didn't know they were doing it. And I didn't speak up. So perhaps it was partly my fault. Whatever happened, it made me question my faith and withdraw even more.

Then, a miracle happened. I found community with a group of differently-abled kids who I loved. I didn't have to work hard to be their friend. They accepted me completely and wholly. Of course I did not tell them everything, and maybe I should have. But everything changed when the accessible van started to break down. My Sunday School teacher looked at me and said, “You're too heavy for me to put in to my car.” My heart broke and a knife went through me. I was a burden, and that was my last attempt at going to church. I was done.

Since then, it's been a journey to find healing. I'm not going to go into my religious beliefs here now because I believe that is the one thing that is most sacred and personal. But I will say that I am a more tolerant, open-minded person. I celebrate Channukah with with my Jewish friends and Ramadan and Eid with my Muslim ones. And I'm finally at peace.

Transportation

Today, I was supposed to go to the Dr.
Usually when I have an appointment, I have to schedule
five days in advance in order to make it on time.
They give me an hour window in which I can be picked up.
Today, I had to wait an hour and a half, and when I called them
to see where transportation was, they told me that I would
not be picked up for another thirty minutes.
Having unreliable transportation is frustrating.
I agree with Brittney.
How are we supposed to live our lives if
we cannot get where we need to go?
One day, I will use transportation to get to work.
If I am not able to rely on transportation, then
what am I supposed to rely on.
Accessibility is about the availability of resources to me.
Transportation is not accessible.

Craving Crave?

I want to tell you guys about one of my favorite restaurants that you will hopefully see in the documentary
when it's all done. This documentary is taking longer than I thought. Next time, I'm hiring a videographer cause although she tries, Rachel (Energizer Bunny) is not doing the trick.
Today, Rachel and I went out to film the documentary, and we took a break at Crave on West Broad near VCU. Crave is NOT an accessible restaurant, but they are very accommodating.

We got there the first time 6 months ago only to see a six inch step into the restaurant.
Unless my wheelchair has hovercraft, there is NO way I'm getting in there.
We do what we normally do when we go there. I tell Rachel what I want, and she
goes into the shop to get it for me.
I understand that not all places in the fan can be accessible,
but every single one should be accommodating.

After they found out I could not get into the building,
they brought me a table and chair, so that we could
sit outside and eat.
The owner even brought out a
five week old baby so that I could see her too.

This shows you that even though people who have
disabilities cannot always get into places, which would be ideal,
it does not always mean that they cannot access what they want or need.

Crave. West Broad Street near VCU. Try it sometime.



Update: I have a new aide update that I will post later.
He has four legs and weighs twenty pounds.
Emerson just tried to eat my aide's big mac and drink her soda while she
was doing my laundry.
He's now sitting in the recliner with his food dish beside him waiting
for her to come back and resume her position.
It's a tough life being a feline, but somebody's got to do it.


I'll post videos later. I think he's going to try to apply for any  vacancies.

The Bubble

Rachel is updating for me tonight.
I have no phone.
I have no computer.
I'm in the hospital again.
Should be out tomorrow.
It feels restrictive, especially since
they can't bring me my power chair.
Someone has to push me around everywhere!
Being in the hospital has almost become normal.
I don't want it to be that way.
I hope that this is my last time here.
I know it does not seem like this is about accessibility, but I
guess this blog has kind of taken a different turn.
This entry is kind of about accessibility though.

I don't have access.
I don't have access to the world.
This is almost like a bubble.
If you are not careful, it becomes too comfortable.

Ordination and Other Adventures

I want to tell you a story about going to one of my friend's ordinations.
I went to his church, which was supposedly accessible,
but the people that were there did not know where the ramp was,
so they told me to go up a 6 inch ledge to get into the church, which could lead to a problem.
Luckily, my chair has good suspension on it. I had to take an elevator, which was approximatly
the size of a closet up to the sanctuary. I was surprised that it was not an old crank elevator.

                                    Maybe I am exagerating just a little, but this is what it felt like, and I am not even
                                                                             standing, thankfully.
 



The little boy that was told to help me find the sanctuary after I got off the elevator pointed his
finger at me as if I were in a creepy horror movie. It was a teaching experience for one little boy who kept asking me why I was in a wheelchair and if my legs were broken. My friend told him that he should ask me what my name was instead, and after that, the little boy got quiet and didn't say anything else. I wish that the little boy had not felt bad about asking questions.

                           A recreation of the little boys finger. Please note: This is my index finger, not                                                                                                     my middle finger.


The good thing about this trip was that the people were nice
and they were very willing to learn from my experience.











By the way, the ramp ended up being in a creepy dark basement,
but at least I did not have to go off a 6 inch ledge.

                                           At least there was no ramp like this. THIS is NOT a RAMP!

The Adventures of Eating Out

Hello Blogging Community.
A lot of people with disabilities spend their time isolated because they are discouraged by the lack of accessibility in the community. I am one of those people that tries to go out in the community, regardless of accessibility  A friend will post links tonight to footage of our adventures, but I will tell you about them for now. Recently, we went to one of my favorite restaurants, but living in the fan has it's downside. There was a VCU game that night, and the two accessible tables were taken. We continued our adventure. We went back another day because I wanted to be able to film the difficulty of accessibility in that restaurant. My first complaint that I have is that the restaurant does not have accessible doors. This leads to strange men who are drunk and smell like paint attempting to hold the door open, and usually, they are trying to hit on me at the same time.... I am not attracted to men who smell like paint and alcohol. Not a good combo.
I have a good relationship with the people in this restaurant. I know the waiters names, and I often know my order without looking at the menu. The waiters are always more than helpful at finding me a table, but I do not like sitting in the back of the building, and that's where the accessible tables are. The second restaurant we went to had a giant concrete block in front of the ramp. Luckily  a friend was able to kick that out of the way without much effort, but if I had been alone, I would not have been able to go inside.

Like I said, there will be more footage tonight. Keep in mind, none of this is planned.