Tuesday morning dawned cool and there was a thick cloud ceiling of dark clouds. I immediately started hoping for rain, but there’s no rain in the forecast until Saturday, when I’ll be going to Vancouver. Sigh. I had a very busy morning putting the house in order after our feast day on Monday.
Di and Bev were here until 15:45. They were on the 18:00 ferry to Vancouver from Departure Bay in Nanaimo. We stayed home all day except Di and I took Sheba for an afternoon walk in Rollo Park. It was lovely to have a trusted and beloved friend to walk with while Sheba sniffed everywhere, in search of that which we don’t discuss to eat.
We talked, we ate, we read, each on our own agendas. I definitely feel less vulnerable to seizures, and I can use the phone sometimes. That’s huge for me. I still startle so violently, it often results in an injury. And, of course, my speech is still shite.
What I loved about Tuesday was that everyone did as they wanted to do, but we were often talking together or in a pair. It was our third day together and so we were comfortable in each others company. I had a great time, and I was sad when they left. It feels good, though, to be alone. It is life at its safest being silently at home, but for some chatting with my quadrupeds.
Now I must survive Saturday and then the film shoot on Sunday. After this is done, I am on a low-ket diet until Christmas when Paula comes. Paula and I started having Christmas together here a few years ago.
Saturday, Sheba and I go from Gabriola to Nanaimo on one ferry, and then we take the big ferry to Vancouver. We go to John’s and I walk Sheba there. Afterwards, I have a visit with John and Bunny, then I go to the venue, we do a tech rehearsal. (I loathe tech rehearsals. They make me nervous for some reason, and the show doesn’t make me nervous.
This is my third gig since the onset of my speech disorder.1. This is the shortest one yet, and it feels very different this time. The first time was for The Flame, a storytelling collective in Vancouver. It was a blast. I became a regular, and I just loved it. After my speech came on, I did a ‘last time’ show about my condition. I me memorized it and eliminated words that caused stuttering. Then I did a monologue in Victoria. It was seventeen minutes and, again, I memorized it. This time, it was in rhyme and had rhythm. Saturday is 40% memorized, 50% improv.
The bit is called “voices.” I do bits in rhyme that I’ve memorized, and one part is in French, in which I am fluent, and one part in my fake Australian accent, also in which I am fluent. Then I do the improv part so that people hear my stutter as I explain why my stutter is my friend.
I watched The Invite last night. I was sceptical even though it scores at 96% on Rotton Tomatoes. At first, I was not entirely engaged, but it turned into a fantastically comedic piece. I thought all the actors were all wonderful: Seth Rogan, Olivia Wilde, Penelope Cruz and Edward Norton. I can’t remember laughing out loud at something in a movie since cynicism/fatalism has set in—but I compartmentalize. I know I’ve found a lot of things funny, but I don’t feel like much of a laugher since middle age. I laughed a few times in this movie. That says a lot.
I typed this into AI:
I have a speech disorder. I have very broken speech. I have blocks, and sometimes they last four-to-five seconds. With strangers, I cannot speak at all. I have been warmly welcomed by the stuttering community because I am a neurogenic stutterer. I don't think developmental stutterers go mute with strangers as I do. When I go out to see a realtor, or a bank person, all professionals and salespeople, I take a letter. In the conversation that stems from what I have written, I write on my iPhone, Also, I have things like, "why I can't speak," "what to do if I have a seizure," and "why I need a low-stimulus environment," stored on my phone. I want to be very clear and careful about what I write about myself and my condition. So, I want to know how I should most honestly describe myself. The muteness makes me feel different. And it feels odd to write that I stutter to explain why I cannot speak at all. It's been challenging having Complex PTSD and Functional Neurological Disorder. I want to get things right in my terminology.
If fucking blows my mind what I got back. I posted my exact words here because I intend to do the search again when I have time to cut and paste much of the information that comes up in the answer into a document.
I learned a lot about my nervous system. I rationalized my life experience as a dysfluent person on a chart that gave me comfort to see it. It was such a nice and tidy explanation of my speech changes. It made sense of the disorder I’ve been living for over a decade. Trying to figure myself out. And there’s AI giving me language and insight to help explain my post-diagnosis self to anyone interested.
What’s most important to me is understanding myself. And this chart was a gift. It’s not new information, but it’s ordered and rationalized so tidily. I wish I could describe how I feel, but I can’t. I’m deeply moved by this chart. AI isn’t all bad.
