All you have to do is...

Major, major rant forthcoming. Toes will be stepped on, I promise. Now that I've warned you, here goes.
Why do nondisabled people always assume that just because something seems easy for you, it should be easy for me? Encounters where there is a biting cold debuff (stacking debuff, increases damage and eventually will freeze you in place) are a prime example.
The only way to remove the debuff is to move. So you cast and jump, or cast and strafe. Sounds pretty easy, right?
I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!!! It messes up my rhythm and my spell rotation. I have to think about every little thing I'm doing, and that takes time. My dps is lowered and my frustration and chance of dying increase.
It's not simple for me, it's not. Would you like to borrow my brain so you can see how hard it is? Would you like to be super-intelligent so you know every little way that your brain is failing you? I know you're trying to help, but I am not you and I can't do what you do!
Coming back Sunday morning after a good night's sleep, not to edit the rant, but to add the positive spin:
The above rant is indicative of what happens in my mind when I'm struggling, particularily when people want to pretend my disabilities don't exist, because it makes them feel better. (ooooh, that was kind of harsh too, I'm not sorry) There are four guys in the guild that I will always listen to for feedback for the simple reason that they do whatever they can to understand what is going on in my brain. Cinnas, Flip, Dem, and Med, *hugs* and <3. That's not to say that other people don't help or don't understand, it's just when I'm talking to one of them, I really get the sense that they are trying to look at the situation from my point of view and that's not easy. I may never get the Biting Cold achievement in Nexus, and that's okay. What's not okay is assuming that just because the solution is simple, it's easy to execute. Nothing in this game is easy for me, but that's what makes it so rewarding.

Normal is a Setting on my Washing Machine!

Or at least it was, when I used to say that all the time. The truth is, normal is a statistical term, and a couple of things happened yesterday that reminded me of how much of an anomaly I am compared to the general population. Of course, in my household, having a developmental disability is just as normal as not having one, but we are unique here.

Because of the way my nerves and brain work, I don't always feel pain or discomfort the way other people do. This can lead to some things going unnoticed until other circumstances bring them to my attention. Nothing like having doctors and medical assistants look at you funny when you say you have asymptomatic infections. Hey, I have chronic pain. If I ran to the doctor for every little thing, I'd never get anything done. Also, I have a pretty good immune system, so it's never been a problem before.

Last night was the last scout meeting of the year, yay! So now after older son's awards ceremony next week, I will be available on Thursdays for the summer. Came home and the guild was on Freya. So, I logged into WoW and vent, and continued working on the Loremaster achievement. One of the raid members was having trouble staying connected, so Dem sent me a tell asking if I was up to coming in for General Vezax. Of course I said yes, then reminded him that it was my first time on the fight. Now the Vezax fight is a challenge for a few reasons. First off, replenishment and life tap do not exist. The only way to regain mana is to stand in something that hurts you. Secondly, there are shadow crashes that hurt you if you get hit by them, and there is an area of effect to them. Third, the fight takes place in one of the darkest rooms in the entire instance. Hello, visual processing problems. We got him down, but I failed on a couple of levels. First, I failed at staying away from shadow crash eight times. Second, I ran out of mana and ended up having to wand at the end of the fight. Still, I refuse to feel bad about my performance. I went in cold and I didn't have the advantage of learning the fight slowly like 22 of the other members did. I'll spend some time working on what I can to make things better.
After the fight, Dem sent me a tell confirming that I wanted to be treated like a normal raider before he pointed out in the dps channel that I had the highest number of failures. Pointing out my failures doesn't bother me - I need to know where I am in order to improve, and I will listen to anyone who thinks they can offer a positive suggestion. I'm not a normal raider, but treating me with kid gloves only accentuates that I'm "special".

An open letter to those with whom I game

Lil of InTheFringes highlighted an open internet letter, and gave an answer from the perspective of a nondisabled person, which I thought was brilliant. Still, this has been percolating in my mind to do, and she has inspired me. So here is a list of things that I'd like you to understand:

• I have good days and bad days. I don't always understand the reason for the bad days either, so if I can't make the Thaddius jump or stay out of runes when I could last week, don't ask me why, just be patient or replace me.
• Fatigue and alcohol make my issues worse. That's why I will let you know if I'm drinking, if you can't tell by my slurred speech. It's also why the end of a raid is so hard for me.
• I don't resent you for being nondisabled. I do not, however, want to hear it if you risk your amazing brains by engaging in dangerous activities without a helmet, eye protection, etc.
• I won't always tell you if I'm offended. We live in a culture where it is acceptable to make derogatory comments about disabilities. It bothers me when you do, but I'm not going to rock the boat or cause drama.
• I love it when you let me use self-deprecating humor. To me, that is the ultimate sign of acceptance, when I can joke about being brain-damaged with you and you don't freak out.
• My husband is my caregiver in real life at times, he's not when we are in-game. Please don't assume that we are talking about anything, or that I will accept help from him more readily than I will from you. There are also times when he just needs a break from dealing with my issues.
• It's easier for me to give help than accept it. Some of you have mastered the art of quiet insistence to get me to let you help me, and I appreciate it.
• If I'm asking for help, I really need it. It may just be advice, or it may be physical, but if I'm asking and you can, please do.
• I won't always ask to be included. I always appreciate when you include me though. Ninja-invites tell me that you trust me to do my job.
• I don't mind educating about my disabilities. If you have a question, ask.
• I don't want or need your pity. I do pretty well with what I deal with and a lot of it is due to the fact that people have pushed me to do as much as I could. Help me overcome barriers, but don't pity me.
• I admire and appreciate you, even when I don't show it. I am truly in awe of your abilities and your character. Thanks for being my friend!

Battle-scarred and Worn, but Still Fighting

"You know there ain't no coming back when you're still carrying the past." - Shinedown, Breaking Inside

Yesterday, I thought I was ready to come back to raiding. The guild unintentionally tested that by needing me in the raid late at night on the Hodir fight. I've been in all the fights except for Vezax, and Hodir is by far the hardest for me to manage.

It didn't go well, and I was rather quite snappish. I'm angry and hurt and I don't even know who to be angry and hurt at.

I chose the above quote because Oct's rejoining the guild and coming back into his own as a raider is bringing back fears that he will overshadow me again. As I processed the events of last night, I realized that so much of the anger that I want to direct at the guild and raid leadership has nothing to do with them and everything to do with the battle scars I carry with me.

As I once again had the thought go through my mind, "Why do I stay?" the answers came just as quickly:

• Monday night, Orbitz saying "what's wrong?" and the immediate expressions of sympathy and caring from the raid.
• Friends who are ready to jump in and help, but just as ready to sit back and provide support as I struggle through doing it myself.
• A raid leader who sees me for much more than raid statistics, and is willing to find ways of explaining encounters that I will understand. He's also very quick to find ways to diffuse my stress in a raid.
• The greatest gift anyone could have, understanding. There are so many people who have taken the time to get inside my head and understand me.
• Shoulders to cry on, hands to high-five, and arms to hug.

So I go on, realizing that a silly video game has exposed the best part of me and brought it to the forefront. To me, that means more to me than all the content I have cleared with Clan Redundancy Clan put together.

A New Angel

"Thanks for all you've done. I've missed you for so long; I can't believe you're gone." - Alter Bridge, In Loving Memory
Last night we went into a 10-man Ulduar with 4 alts, which is always an experience. Flame Leviathan and Razorscale went pretty well, but as we were clearing to XT-002, the phone rang. It was my dad, telling me that my aunt and godmother had passed away. As I was talking to him, Oct typed in raid chat, "Give us a minute, Carol's dealing with family stuff on the phone." I typed, "I'm gonna need Oct for a min plz." I hung up with my dad, told Oct what happened, and sobbed in his arms for a minute.
Got back on vent and said, "Sorry about that, family emergency, what am I doing?" The group asked what was wrong, since I was obviously in tears, I told them, and was met with condolences and hugs. The raid was somewhat unremarkable, but it was good to be able to have it as a distraction and be with friends who care about me.
When I think of my Aunt Bertha, I think of a kind, classy woman who raised two daughters alone after her first husband died at a young age, then found love again after her children were grown, thanks to my grandfather. I remember swimming at the house she had in Pennsylvania before she got married, and lots of happy times at their house in North Carolina. In an indirect way, she is responsible for me meeting my husband. My parents bought the property they retired to because it was across the street from hers, and that led to me attending NC State, where I met Bryan. I remember a woman who was always sewing, knitting, or crocheting, and giving me wonderful handmade clothes. I remember a talented organist, and singing old hymns in four-part harmony while she played. I remember a gentle stubbornness that I share with her. The memories make me smile, even through my tears.
I'm also glad that I have such good friends, even in a video game, that will love and support me.
Edit: In my grief, I forgot that another guild cleared Ulduar last week. Congratulations to Aeon on their Yogg-Saron kill!

My first look at Yogg

It's Memorial Day in the United States, a day to remember those who served in the military and the sacrifices they made. I'm remembering my mother-in-law, Connie, who served her country well without ever putting on a uniform, just by being an Army wife. To all our military personnel and their families, thank you.
Last night was another series of attempts on Yogg-Saron. We were a little short at the start, so I was in. The Yogg fight is all about control. You have to control dps, control where you stand, and control your damage and debuffs. As a person who deals with mental illness, I have to chuckle a bit at being told to watch my sanity. If only real life had sanity wells that you could just stand in and recover.
I'm always a little cautious at first in a fight where it's easy to wipe the raid. Phase 1 just means throw shadowbolts at guardians until they get around 30% health, then switch. Oh, and avoid the big clouds of yellow-green gas that are floating around. It's a bit frustrating to not be able to throw up all my dots, but controlled dps is something I can do well.
Phase 2 gets a little more complicated. The raid is split into two, there are tentacles that have to be burned down rather quickly, and there are debuffs and death rays to deal with. Still, we had some really good attempts.
I learned something very important last night. I can handle the Yogg fight. I was a little hesitant to mention that to Dev, thinking that his reaction might be, "yeah, that's great, Carol, you can handle it, now what about this other stuff that is killing us." The thing is, if we have nights when we're short, I can come in and that is good to know.

Can a Video Game Change Your Life?

"What's worth the prize is always worth the fight." - Nickelback, If Today was Your Last Day

We painted the bedroom Saturday. When I say we, I mean that Bryan and I worked together to do it. Our bedroom has a cathedral ceiling and some cutouts, so he did the painting that required a ladder and the initial cutting in, and I used a roller and brush on what I could reach from the floor. I don't do ladders unless absolutely necessary. I don't like heights, and losing my balance 5 feet up could have disastrous consequences.

When we were getting our old house ready to sell a year ago, Bryan wouldn't let me paint. When you are painting, involuntary muscle movements that are made worse by fatigue are a bad thing.

What's changed in the past year? A couple of things. One, I think my fine motor control is better, refined by having to move and avoid various ground effects. When I say I can avoid harmful AoE spells almost as well as a neurotypical person, I'm not kidding, and I think Dev would back me up on that. Another related thing is that my attention to visual detail has improved by having to pay attention to aforementioned effects. World of Warcraft, and particularly raiding, has become a form of occupational therapy for me.

I think one of the biggest changes that has happened since I joined Clan Redundancy Clan last July deals with the psychosocial component of being disabled. When you are used to running up against barriers and dealing with prejudice, you tend to expect it everywhere, and tend to not see yourself in a positive light. Sometimes those closest to you have the same perception of weakness as well. As I have raided with CRC and accomplished things that not everyone has, I have learned to see myself as a strong, capable person. As we have been raiding Naxx and especially Ulduar, my husband has been able to see that there is a lot I can still do.

As we struggle with Yogg (and I'm hoping that I'll be in on a Vezax kill soon), I wonder what else this video game will change in my brain. Until then, I'll enjoy my Epic room. More to come...