Embedded Files
To the reader, visualizer, experiencer, critiquer, interactor--or however you may show up today,
In this space, I will use person-first and identity-first language interchangeably because I am proud of, and speak openly about, my obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) and my major depressive disorder (MDD) and view my invisible disabilities as key aspects--but not the only parts--of my identity.
My hope is that you experience this space in whatever way feels right for you. If you need to pause, walk around the room, come back tomorrow, or stop reading completely--please do so. If you choose to continue through the whole piece, I am glad you're here.
The telling of my story details to you how terrifying it was and reveals what I have only recently discovered: my resiliency—evidence of the nightmare and that I got through it, and am continuing to learn and grow. We all have different horror stories, and my writing capstone explores a few of mine.
Welcome to my space. I invite you to experience and interact with it in whatever way you would like to.
About Me
About Me
This 'working' space, although unclear to me until quite recently, originated and took some form when I was four years old. The foreign form it has now is transfigured, and--I assume--would be quite unrecognizable and unthinkable to my childhood self.
My working draft details the evolution of my vulnerability and increased comfort through written accounts of my experiences, many of which exist with regard to my disabilities. I share pages of my current notebooks to show my internal dialogue and evolution of my thoughts—a look into my OCD/MDD brain.
My working draft details the evolution of my vulnerability and increased comfort through written accounts of my experiences, many of which exist with regard to my disabilities. I share pages of my current notebooks to show my internal dialogue and evolution of my thoughts—a look into my OCD/MDD brain.
My graduation from the University of Michigan with a major in Psychology, B.A., and minor in Writing, B.A., felt like the "right" time to open this space to you in a larger capacity.
My narratives are never finished.
Below are descriptions of past pieces I have written. Parts of these show up in my working draft (signaled by a switch in color).
"My Four-Year-Old Brain"
"My Four-Year-Old Brain"
Fall 2021
This piece was the first narrative piece I created, written for my first writing course on narrative writing. This was the first time I tried to recreate what my childhood looked like. It includes accounts of what loved ones remember, what my childhood therapist remembers, and the (few) memories I had. This was the first time, I presume, that I felt I could tell an “accurate” depiction of what my OCD looked like as a child. This piece was continued a year later—and eventually evolved into my next piece, “I Am What I Cannot Remember,” as I continued to grieve the loss of my childhood OCD notes.
"In The Soup"
"In The Soup"
Winter 2021
This piece began as frantically written bullet points written in the notes app of my phone while on vacation. This was the first piece I titled when I wrote it; I called it “soup”. Additional thoughts, chunks, and sections were added to this piece throughout the next year for both myself, and for a class assignment. It details my experiences with MDD. It is about the vulnerability of expressing emotions to others or in public spaces. I document and dissect societal responses—and poke fun at their ability to dismiss mentally ill people.
"I Am What I Cannot Remember"
"I Am What I Cannot Remember"
Fall 2022
This piece is about the frustrations of a loss, namely the memory of my childhood experiences with OCD, and the reflections this loss sparked. It covers my scattered memory, my desperate search for anything that could help me regain these memories, and my written interpretations of accounts of others’ memories. It marks a point in the grieving process of my shredded notes—of the loss of my memories.
"Do You Wear A Smile?"
"Do You Wear A Smile?"
Winter 2022
This piece took the form of a medium I was new to: a video essay. It provides a visual experience complimentary to questions, to make the audience question what it means to smile. As my former professor James Pinto put it, “give the audience the stars to connect without connecting them”, an overwhelming difficult task —but nonetheless, advice I keep with me. In a combination of images, videos, and questions, this creation is meant to make people pause and question if and when they really do appear as they are, or when it is to satisfy expectation.
Pinto puts it simply, “A smile becomes incomprehensible, or meaningless, when it is for public show.”
New Writing/Journal Entries
New Writing/Journal Entries
Fall 2023
Quotes/Interpretations/Interactions with authors
Quotes/Interpretations/Interactions with authors
Fall 2023
Who Speaks On Disability Experience?
Michael Bérubé highlights the difficulty of a curator in creating a disability rights exhibit in order to remind us that there is no one way to classify the neurodiversity movement—everything that came to mind seemed to be “insufficient to convey the historical weight of discrimination” (568). There is no one word, “image”, or “object” (568), to describe the neurodiversity movement, and despite the increasing presence of disabled authors and activists in American culture—there is not one disability narrative that speaks for all disabled voices. There will never be one voice that can do justice to the disability experience as a whole.
Our Expectations of The Narrator
"It's not, 'How do we make the world more accessible for Dory?'
It's, 'How does Dory get her memory back?"
-Vincent Pinti
(commenting on Bérubé's Disability and Narrative, p. 573)
"Is it because they don't conform [to our expectations] or because we never understand them?" -Vincent Pinti
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