Author: Ania Onion Bula

Author of Young, Sick, and Invisible: a Skeptics Journey with Chronic Illness.

TPPP Episode 17 : Invisible No More

I got the chance to appear on the Podunk Polymath Podcast. If you have a chance, you should have a listen.

Welcome to another episode of The Podunk Polymath Podcast! In the pre-ramble I talk about the shooting death of Joe McKnight and how the murderer was treated with kid gloves by the authorities. Als…

Source: TPPP Episode 17 : Invisible No More

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TPPP Episode 17 : Invisible No More

I got to talk with the Podunk Polymath about my book and disability issues. You should pull up a chair and have a listen.

The Podunk Polymath

Welcome to another episode of The Podunk Polymath Podcast! In the pre-ramble I talk about the shooting death of Joe McKnight and how the murderer was treated with kid gloves by the authorities. Also, I speak about the wildfires in East Tennessee and the destruction in Gatlinburg, as well as the deaths and property loss of so many people. I talk about how you can help, and what organizations are contributing to the effort.

On the palaver I speak to blogger, activist, and author of ‘Young, Sick, and Invisible’ Ania Bula. We talk about her book, her struggles, her triumphs, ableism, and what abled people can do to help disabled people gain the recognition and dignity they deserve. I was extremely honored to speak with Ania, and I highly recommend her book.

I also wanted to mention that I had the second best week for downloads, behind only the inaugural…

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We’ve joined the Orbit!

We've moved to the Orbit
It is with great excitement that we announce that Alyssa and Ania Splain You a Thing is joining the orbit. You can find us at http://the-orbit.net/splainyouathing/. We can’t wait to see you there!

We are extremely excited to be joining up with such amazing activists and writers and hope you will take a moment to explore all the talent this network has to offer.

Don’t worry, we haven’t abandoned Burning Bridges either. Stay tuned to our Facebook page for more information as we work towards launching our site and our publishing house.

What ADHD Can Look Like

It took a long time to recognize that I have ADHD.

This is not an uncommon story for women and non-men with ADHD, Autism, and a variety of spectrum disorders. Symptoms are often excused as being a lack of discipline or an influence of their gender. Interestingly, many women who are later diagnosed or discover that they are autistic get a diagnosis for ADHD fist.

In school, one of the most common complaints heard from teachers was that I was too chatty. I liked to talk a lot, and very quickly. Sometimes people couldn’t understand me because I spoke so fast, and yet I would hear time and time again how bright I was or how articulate. I would ask endless questions, of everyone. I could never seem to learn that whole “don’t talk to strangers” lesson. In fact even now I find myself talking to strangers. When I left for university, my parents were surprised by how many people around town seemed to know me. While my frequent conversations with strangers bothered my mother endlessly, even into my adult years, so often the people I talked to would end up spilling their stories to me. There are times when one question leads to me seemingly learning a person’s entire life story.

At school, my focus would begin to wander a few months into the school year. I would start of the school year strong, then plummet towards the middle of the year, and then make back some of the marks towards the end. I followed this pattern throughout all my schooling.

Homework was difficult. If it was too easy, I wouldn’t pay complete attention and make inattentive mistakes. If it was too difficult, it was hard to stay focused and still long enough to understand. The longer it took, the more anxious I would get and the more difficult it would become to focus. I felt like I was unintelligent, and often my dad helping me with certain work would turn into screaming matches until suddenly something clicked and it all made sense. (Strange confession, I actually enjoyed those screaming matches with my father, feeling a strange sort of pride that I was the only one who could make him raise his voice. Sometimes I think he enjoyed it too.)

I found a lot of the books for school extremely tedious. I remember the teachers complaining about the fact that I mentioned that I preferred English books to French books. I was at a French school, so I can see why they had a problem with that, but no one considered that my problem might not be with the language, but rather with the fact that the French material was selected for me, while the English material I got to choose myself.

The stories I chose myself were more engaging, more enjoyable. They didn’t follow the same patterns that every “learn to read” type story did. Where the story doesn’t seem to matter so much as they were looking for excuses to use specific words. (more…)

It Was Assault and It Wasn’t the First Time

CN/TW: Descriptions of Assault and Rape

I was at a party the other weekend, when the subject of my book came up.

I decided to tell the anecdote of the faith healer, the punch line of which was the description of his hand on my crotch and ass stroking back and forth, while I tried not to laugh in his face or look at my mother who was also struggling. I played it like I always do; for laughs at the absolute ridiculousness of the situation. But this time something was different. Maybe it was the look on the face of the person I was speaking to. Maybe it was the fact that I was already thinking about something related to assault. Whatever it was, even as I was laughing, I was suddenly face with the fact that what I was describing was sexual assault.

A man was touching my body in intimate places, in a way that made me feel uncomfortable. He was stroking my crotch because he knew he could get away with it. Despite the fact that my mother was sitting right there. I was in a position where I couldn’t object, and I couldn’t really refuse. Not without possible consequences.

It’s not as if the realization changed much. I was already an assault victim, having come to terms with what had happened to me at 18 years old with a doctor.

But the realization that I had been telling the story of my assault as a humorous story made me stop and think.

(more…)