I’ve always believed the smallest moments often leave the biggest footprints. This is where I explore the memories, adventures, reflections, and everyday moments that have shaped my life, along with my experiences as a Deaf woman and my love of Supernatural. I’m so glad you’re here. I hope you’ll find a story that feels like coming home.
There is a certain kind of hurt that is difficult to explain, especially when it comes from someone you never expected to hurt you.
Sometimes we say no because we are simply not ready to share something. We may not have the words, or we may not feel comfortable explaining ourselves yet. Whatever the reason, I believe that no should be enough.
I recently found myself in a situation where I chose not to share something and specifically asked that it not be shared with others. I trusted that my request would be respected, but it wasn’t. The information was shared anyway. What stayed with me was the feeling of betrayal, knowing that something I had trusted someone with and specifically asked them not to share was treated as though my wishes were optional.
That changed something for me. I became more careful about what I share and who I share it with. It doesn’t matter who someone is or how long I have known them. Family, friends, or anyone else, I have the right to decide what parts of my life I am comfortable sharing.
What followed made things even harder. My decision became something other people talked about, and eventually I was approached by someone trying to convince me to share something I had already said I wasn’t ready to share. I understood that people may have had questions, but my answer remained the same. I wasn’t ready.
Then I heard things I never expected to hear from someone I had known for so long. I was shocked and hurt. I reacted in the moment, then chose to walk away rather than continue the situation. Sometimes walking away is the only way to keep yourself from saying more than you really want to say.
I don’t want this to be about pointing fingers or naming anyone. It is about recognizing what happens when trust is broken and a simple boundary isn’t respected.
I am learning that I don’t owe anyone information simply because they want to know. If I say I am not ready to share something, that should be enough. It isn’t an invitation for someone else to ask around, involve others, or try to change my mind.
I never expected to have to walk away while standing firm on something that seemed so simple. But I wasn’t ready, and I shouldn’t have had to feel guilty for that.
Today, as I browsed through different blogs on different subjects, I found myself reflecting on my own experiences. Reading someone else’s story has a way of unlocking memories of my own. Some make me smile. Some make me laugh. Others quietly remind me of moments I thought had long since been tucked away.
I could be sitting around the kitchen table or standing out on the backyard deck, just talking with family or friends. Somewhere in the conversation, I’d start sharing one of my own experiences. Not to argue. Not to prove a point. Just to tell a story the way I remembered living it and describe what I was feeling in that moment.
“Oh, that’s not how it happened. Here’s why…”
Really?
Every time I heard those words, it felt like the conversation ended before it even had a chance to begin. It didn’t matter what I was trying to say or how I was feeling. Somewhere between my mouth or my hands, and your ears or your eyes, I disappeared. Whether I was speaking or signing didn’t seem to matter. Somehow, what I was trying to say was lost before it ever reached you. I wasn’t looking for an argument. I wasn’t trying to prove anyone wrong. I was simply trying to explain what something felt like from where I was standing.
Sometimes I wonder how different those conversations might have been if, instead of correcting me, someone had simply asked another question.
“What made you feel that way?”
“Can you tell me more?”
“Help me understand your side.”
I wasn’t asking anyone to rewrite history. I wasn’t asking everyone to agree with every memory I had. I simply wanted someone to hear me before deciding I was wrong. Whether my memories matched someone else’s wasn’t even the point. My emotions were real because I lived them, and I wanted someone to be curious enough to understand why I felt the way I did instead of immediately explaining why I shouldn’t.
As the years passed, people wondered why I became so angry, why I was sad, why I overthought everything, and why I bottled up my emotions until one little thing finally shook the cork loose.
“Shhhh! Amanda, you’re being loud.”
Yeah, no shit.
I was expressing myself. I don’t care if I’m loud. Let me express, y’all!
“Shhh!”
Fine. (Quiet.)
Little by little, I began to understand that expressing my emotions came with consequences. Whenever I cried, it was an overreaction or I was seeking attention. If I raised my voice, I was too loud. If I defended myself, I had an attitude. If I tried explaining how something affected me, I was told my version wasn’t true. After hearing those messages enough times, I stopped believing my emotions were safe to share.
Instead, I took every feeling, every hurt, every disappointment, and shoved it down as deep as I possibly could. In my mind, it was as if the bones in the center of my body became a storage place. Everything else became padding around them while I kept shoving one emotion after another into that space. Every emotion was pushed into them and packed down tighter and tighter, hoping nothing would leak back out. So I kept stuffing them in. More hurt. More sadness. More anger. More disappointment. I kept convincing myself there was always room for one more feeling, even when there wasn’t. Eventually, everything was overflowing, but I had already convinced myself my emotions weren’t worth listening to anyway.
So I stopped sharing them.
Instead, I shared what I had learned. I talked about articles I had read, conversations I had heard, and the common emotional threads I noticed in other people’s experiences. I could understand what someone else was feeling. I could recognize their hurt, their excitement, their grief, and their struggles. I just couldn’t bring myself to talk about my own anymore. Somewhere along the way, it became easier to carry everyone else’s emotions than to admit I was still carrying mine.
From the outside, I looked fine. Inside, I was carrying years of feelings that had nowhere safe to go.
Before long, I began second-guessing myself. I knew I wasn’t perfect. I knew I could mishear a word or miss a detail. But I also knew what I had seen, what I had experienced, and how it had made me feel. I became guarded because being open didn’t feel safe anymore. It became easier to stay quiet than to risk being dismissed all over again.
Then later came the question.
“Why do you bottle everything up until something finally pops that cork?”
And you wondered why.
Emotions don’t disappear because they’re ignored. They don’t simply vanish because someone tells you to calm down or get over it. They wait. They pile up. They settle quietly into places no one else can see until one small thing finally shakes them loose. Then everyone is surprised by the explosion without realizing they’re looking at years of emotions that were never given a safe place to exist.
I don’t tell you that you’re being too loud. I let you express yourself. I let you be angry, frustrated, excited, or heartbroken. I don’t assume I already know what you’re going to say before you’ve finished saying it. I try to listen first because I know what it feels like when no one does.
I only wish I had been given that same space.
As my teenage years rolled around, I became more rebellious and ignored a lot of things, but I’ve never done meth, cocaine, or LSD because I knew better. I never turned to cutting myself because I had been taught not to cope that way. There was even talk about sending me to boot camp to straighten out my attitude.
I was called spoiled.
Looking back now, I realize I spent years believing I was the problem.
That word never made sense to me because I never cared about expensive things or getting everything I wanted. Those weren’t the things I was chasing. I wasn’t hoping for more presents or more money. I wanted something that couldn’t be wrapped in a box.
I wanted someone to say, “Come on, let’s go,” and have it be just the two of us. Maybe we’d take a walk with no destination. Maybe we’d drive to the beach and spend the afternoon listening to the waves. Maybe we’d grab an ice cream cone and sit on a park bench talking about life until the sun started going down. The place never really mattered. The activity didn’t matter either. What mattered was knowing you wanted to spend that time with me. I wanted to feel like I mattered enough to have your undivided attention without competing with everyone else around me.
I wanted someone to ask another question instead of making another assumption. I wanted someone to comfort me when life hurt instead of explaining why I shouldn’t feel hurt. I wanted someone to support me instead of immediately correcting me. I wanted someone to see me, not just parent me. I wanted to feel chosen, not because everyone else was busy or because someone felt guilty, but because someone genuinely wanted to spend time with me.
Even now, I don’t expect people to tiptoe around me or tell me I’m right all the time. If I’m wrong, tell me. If my behavior hurts someone, call me out. If there’s something I’m not seeing, help me see it. Those conversations help me grow, and I value honesty far more than empty reassurance.
But there’s a difference between honesty and dismissal.
You can tell someone a difficult truth without making them feel like their emotions never mattered in the first place. You can challenge someone’s perspective while still letting them know their feelings matter. Feeling valued doesn’t require agreement. It requires being heard before being judged.
I wasn’t looking for perfection. I wasn’t asking for someone to solve every problem. Looking back now, I realize I wasn’t asking for extraordinary moments. I wasn’t asking for expensive gifts or a perfect life. I was asking for ordinary moments with people who wanted to know me. A walk. A conversation. A drive to the beach. An ice cream cone on a warm afternoon. Moments where I didn’t have to earn your attention because it was already freely given.
As I was thinking about what to write next, one memory came back to me. It made me smile because I still remember it so clearly.
It happened during one of my flights. I’ve always been weirdly comfortable traveling alone. There’s something freeing about navigating airports, finding my gate, and making my way from one place to another by myself.
Because I’m Deaf, I was able to board a little earlier than everyone else. It gave me a chance to settle in before the rest of the passengers arrived. I grabbed everything I thought I’d need during the flight from my bag underneath the seat and tucked it into the seat-back pocket. That way, I wouldn’t have to keep reaching underneath my seat throughout the flight.
A few minutes later, a couple boarded with their beautiful baby, and the father took the seat next to me. Before takeoff, I let him know there might be some turbulence and to be careful so the baby wouldn’t go flying out of their arms. That’s just my motherly instinct kicking in.
After we took off, I reached into the seat-back pocket and pulled out a word search book I had picked up back in 2023. Since my phone wouldn’t be working and there weren’t any entertainment screens attached to the seats, I came prepared. Then again, growing up as an ’80s kid, I learned how to entertain myself. If my sisters didn’t want to play and I wasn’t interested in watching television, I always found something to do.
I opened my word search book and started hunting for words, checking them off as I found them. Before I knew it, the father pointed out one I had completely missed. I smiled and circled it. I could tell he was a little nervous about pointing it out, and honestly, I wasn’t expecting anyone to help. To be even more honest, I had no idea he had been looking at my puzzle in the first place.
After helping me find a few more words, I noticed he seemed to relax. He started enjoying himself, going back and forth between helping me with the puzzle and helping the baby’s mother whenever she needed him.
I found myself enjoying his help more than I expected. It was the first time anyone had looked over and simply joined in. He already knew I was Deaf because I always tell the people sitting next to me at the beginning of a flight. I don’t want anyone to think I’m ignoring them or mistake my silence for being rude. Once or twice, he’d gently tap my shoulder to let me know the flight attendant was trying to get my attention.
I appreciated that more than he probably realized. A gentle tap on the shoulder is a respectful way to get a Deaf person’s attention. Communication doesn’t always happen through spoken words. Sometimes it’s writing, texting, gestures, or simply facing the person while speaking at a normal pace. Every Deaf or hard of hearing person communicates differently, so the best thing you can do is be patient and find the method that works best for both of you.
We flew through quite a few pages together. There was one puzzle where I found a word he had been searching for, and he immediately let me know, “I was trying to find that!” I couldn’t help but laugh. Then there was another word that completely stumped both of us. We searched around and around that puzzle for what felt like five or ten minutes before one of us finally spotted it. We both chuckled when we finally found it. It felt like a little victory.
At one point during the flight, my back started bothering me, so I shifted around in my seat, trying to get comfortable. When I went back to the puzzle, he even helped hold the book steady while we searched for more words. We just kept checking them off, one after another.
As we started getting ready to land, I began feeling the familiar pressure building in my ears. I reached for the gum I had tucked into the seat-back pocket before takeoff. Chewing gum has always helped me during takeoff and landing, a little tip my ex shared with me years ago that has almost always worked. This time, though, it wasn’t doing its job. I rubbed my ears, hoping the pressure would ease, but nothing seemed to work.
Once we landed, we stayed seated while everyone waited to get off the plane. While we were still sitting there, the father typed a message on his phone thanking me. He told me he had a really good time helping with the word search and that it made the flight pass quickly. We talked for another minute before everyone stood up. He gathered his family, and I stayed behind to grab my luggage.
A little later, after I got into the terminal, I saw him again. He was standing with the baby near the restroom while, I’m assuming, the baby’s mother was inside. As I walked by, I smiled and waved.
Then I turned my head, looked straight ahead, grabbed my suitcase, and my walking speed immediately picked up. The wheels rattled loudly across the floor as I wove through the crowd. I didn’t care how loud my suitcase was. I made my way through the sea of people until I finally reached the lobby, where I found a place to wait and called my Uber.
Even though I had flown before 2021, I noticed something about myself. Whenever I’m traveling with someone else, I naturally slow my pace to match theirs. There were a few times in 2023, and again this year in 2026, when I found myself absolutely zooming through the airport. I honestly don’t know why I do that.
I do know that in 2026, I was heading home to my children.
Even though they’re adults now, they’ll always be my babies.
To the dad who shared a word search with me, thank you. I don’t know your name, and maybe I never will. That’s okay.
I’ll always remember the stranger who shared a word search with me while we flew somewhere above the clouds. It was one of the most enjoyable plane rides I’ve ever had.
I’ve always attended birthday parties for family members while growing up, but I still remember the first birthday party I was invited to by a friend. It was held at a roller-skating rink, and to this day, I remember how much fun I had.
One detail especially stands out. Instead of filling the goodie bags with candy or small toys, they gave out books. I loved the idea. In fact, that gift is what started my reading journey. My first book was from the Goosebumps series. I think it was Stay Out of the Basement, though I can’t say for certain.
I also remember watching my friend sit in the spotlight while everyone gathered around for cake and presents. At the time, I considered them one of the popular kids, and if I’m being honest, I felt pretty cool being friends with them.
As the years went by, birthday invitations continued to arrive from time to time, and I started wanting a birthday party of my own. I remember talking about it with family members, but the response was usually the same. Since my birthday falls in August, it would be difficult to organize.
Looking back, I can understand some of the challenges. This was long before texting, social media, and smartphones. Everything revolved around landline telephones. To invite classmates, we would have needed their phone numbers. Since I attended a Deaf school, most of my friends were Deaf and/or hard of hearing, making party invitations much more complicated than simply picking up a phone. As a child, I didn’t think much about those obstacles. I just knew I wanted a birthday party like everyone else.
Family members would sometimes stop by with a gift or two, but there was never a cake, decorations, or anything that felt like a celebration.
As a child, watching other family members be celebrated while feeling overlooked left a mark on me emotionally. Looking back, it contributed to a feeling that I wasn’t particularly special at home or at school. I carried a lot of sadness and anger growing up. There were many layers to those feelings, but that’s a story for another day.
A few months before my 30th birthday, I shared those feelings with my partner at the time. They already knew much of what I had experienced over the previous decade, so I hoped they would understand.
Instead, they looked at me and said, “If you want a birthday party, then you can buy the decorations, the cake, and host it yourself. You pay for it.”
I was stunned.
Not long afterward, a family member announced plans to celebrate their birthday. I immediately canceled the idea of having my own. At the time, I felt like I would be copying them, and I didn’t want my birthday viewed that way. I never brought it up again.
Years later, sometime between my 30th and 40th birthdays, I watched other family members host birthday parties for different relatives. They went out of their way to make people feel celebrated and special. I was genuinely happy for them, but I would be lying if I said it didn’t stir up old feelings, too.
Then my 40th birthday started approaching.
A good friend invited me on a trip outside of the United States. I rushed out to get my very first passport and booked my round-trip ticket. As it turned out, the trip landed during my birthday week. At some point, I casually mentioned to my friend that I would be turning 40 that year.
Today, when I walk into my bathroom and see the rainbow-haired white duck sitting by the sink, or when I’m sitting at my computer and notice the rainbow pencil she gave me, I can’t help but smile. They are small reminders of a moment that meant far more than the gifts themselves.
My friend secretly organized a surprise birthday party at a nearby pub with a group of new friends.
I had absolutely no idea.
Even now, writing about it brings tears to my eyes.
It was the very first birthday party that was created just for me.
A birthday party.
For me.
For the first time, I felt special.
For the first time, I felt seen.
JO, I don’t think you’ll ever truly know how much that meant to me. I was completely speechless.
I was fooling around with ChatGPT recently and asked it to describe who I am. The result was surprisingly interesting, so I thought I’d share it. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure what to write today. Writer’s block has been hanging around for a while.
I know I’ve been pretty quiet over the past several months. A lot of that time has been spent unpacking emotions and working through things I needed to process. I found myself constantly writing about one negative thing after another, and eventually I asked myself, “Who really wants to read that all the time?” So I stepped away for a bit and gave myself some grace. I needed time to acknowledge my pain, my hurt, and my anger. I’m not completely finished with that journey, but I’ve made progress. One thing I’ve noticed is that my outlook has shifted, and I’m genuinely happy about that.
My health continues to be a bit of a mystery. A couple of weeks ago, I ended up in the ER. The good news is that the doctors were able to rule out the things everyone was most concerned about. The less-good news is that nobody really knows what caused the issue. I don’t have any pain, which is fortunate, but I do have swelling that hasn’t gone away. It has remained pretty much the same since it started. I know that sounds strange, but for now there’s not much I can do except continue monitoring it and following up as needed.
Outside of that, I’ve been spending quite a bit of time playing Palia, and I’m honestly having a blast. The game recently released a new area called Royal Highlands, along with several new features, including horses. I’ve had far too much fun naming my horses after characters from Supernatural and matching their names to their appearance and personality. A small update yesterday also added the ability to ride Riffrocs. I haven’t had a chance to dive into that storyline yet, but I’m hoping to get to it today or tomorrow, depending on what life decides to throw my way.
I’ve also branched out and tried a few other games. House Flipper has been surprisingly fun and has a magical ability to make entire afternoons disappear without warning. The game itself isn’t new, but it was new to me. It took some confidence to step outside my comfort zone and try something different.
I’ve also played a few games with one of my children, and one comment I kept hearing was, “You did really good. You did better than I thought.” I won’t lie, that made me pretty proud. It took a lot of practice getting comfortable with a keyboard and mouse since I grew up playing with controllers, but it’s nice to see that effort paying off.
These days, I’m even getting invited to play games like Mario Kart 8 and Fall Guys with streamers. I warned them long ago that I wasn’t exactly a gaming powerhouse, but the more I play, the more improvement I see. Recently, I’ve started catching up to some of the streamers, and viewers have actually commented, “Hey, Amanda is getting better!” Those little moments make me smile more than they probably realize.
When I’m not gaming, I’ve been catching up on a few TV shows. Recently, I’ve watched M.I.A., Found, and even revisited Emerald City to refresh my memory. I’ve enjoyed all of them and found myself looking forward to the next episode whenever I had some downtime. I was especially disappointed to learn that Found was canceled and won’t be returning for a third season. It felt like there was still so much more story left to tell. As for M.I.A., I’ll keep my review simple: badass. Sometimes one word says it all.
Before I wrap this up, I have a favor to ask. If there’s a word, topic, or random thought you’d love to see me turn into a blog post, drop it in the comments. Writer’s block has been camping out in my head lately, and I’d love some inspiration. Two brains are better than one, and a whole comment section full of brains sounds even better.
Before you go, don’t forget to give your loved ones a hug and remind them how much they mean to you. Thank you for choosing to spend a few minutes reading my blog. I appreciate every one of you.
In the beginning of January, 2025 of this year, I came up with the word, Optimistic for my word of the year. That word pretty much went through the window like it was a trash. There was many struggles, frustration, self-bullying, anxiety loads and I mean anxiety LOADS, and there are definitely depression tangle in this mess. There was struggles with mental, physical and spiritual.
As I write on December 2nd, I felt that I couldn’t continue to write because I was honestly tired coming here to write negative things that was happening in my life. I just wanted it to stop.
I will celebrate my small wins such as …
One breakthrough I had was with myself: I built confidence in my gaming skills. I learned how to use a new controller, and I taught myself how to play using a keyboard and mouse in game mode. That may sound small to some people, but it mattered to me.
I had a break-through with myself that I picked up a painting kit which will be gifted to this nice person. I am proud of my work and I’m getting good compliment. To be honest, as I painted and putting them together, I was going through lot of negative emotions. It doesn’t matter what craft projects I had in my hand, I was told it was a kid project. I had a lot of stiff-ness moment where I just can’t move. I told myself through this journey, ” He is not here and F U!” This is my apartment. He isn’t allowed here. I can do whatever I want. I saw my friend made beautiful art project and she seems really enjoying it. As I put them together, I find myself enjoying it as well. Thank you Friend!
gifting a Highland Cow to a friend
I have lost my 3rd baby back in 2009.
Sometime around 2018, I met a sweet woman through the cyber world who had lost her son, Johbis. Johbis lost his life to AVM. He was only four years old. I remember how deeply it impacted me, and I told her I would help share his tribute.
That promise was shut down immediately by my ex—who was my husband at the time—when he refused to purchase the dinosaurs that were meant to be attached and shared. But I promised myself that one day, somehow, I would get them out into the world. I held onto those memory cards close to my heart for years.
Today, I finally did it.
I purchased the dinosaurs, attached them, bagged them, and they are ready to go the next time I head out.
Johbis Keita November 1, 2013 – March 15, 2018 You are forever remembered. ROAR!(It means “I love you.”)
In the past six months, I’ve been struggling with insomnia and trying my best to manage it. But in the last two of those months, my body hit a wall—I just couldn’t keep fighting it. I even had to stop physical therapy because I kept canceling appointments. I knew I needed to continue, but canceling over and over didn’t feel right, so I stepped back entirely. My sleep cycle completely unraveled: I’d stay up all night and sleep during the day, which eventually turned into four hours at night and four hours during the day. That chaotic pattern lasted about three weeks, but thankfully I’m finally back to a regular sleep schedule.
Today, it is Jan 9, 2026 ….
damn, its 2026. Its 2026?! Time flies!
Happy New Year.
Right before Christmas, I had to go to ER due to suspecting a possible strep throat so I needed the prescription for it. I was definitely not expecting to discover I have been busted by COVID. I had escape COVID for 5 years so this is my very first COVID experience. I am not liking this one bit at all. Moly!
I’m negative now, but there are lingering effects: extreme exhaustion after even small activities like washing dishes, and a cough that refuses to leave. Luckily, I already have a doctor’s appointment later this month for something else, so we’ll address it then.
One day at a time.
The reason I have this photo is because I was in communication with my sister to show her that I am, in fact, in ER. I wanted her to know every medical I have so when I cannot speak for myself, she is well-informed and aware of what I want. I love you, Sis!
December 28th, we lost another family member that has me stunned, and surprised. You really don’t know your tomorrow. Appreciate the minute, the hour, and the day as long as you take the next breath. I will embrace knowing that he is now with his son, JT who we lost back in April, going to fishing together again and share some laugh.
Uncle Johnny
As for my 2026, I have found my word of the year and I felt it was time for me to let things go. I feel ready. This is going to be a difficult year for me because I am going to have to face and confront those negative things that I held to close. It needs to go. It is time for me to release them and receive the good things. Acknowledging the things that I ” deserve ” them is going to be hard. I can flat out saying this because I don’t think I deserve any of it. I have been told I am amazing. I have been told I am good person, or a friend to them. I have been told I do amazing job. But those words, I quickly throw them under the rug because I don’t think I am that person. I never think I am a good enough. I never think I am equal. It is time to release those negative feeling and say yes, I am enough. It is time to ” RELEASE ”
Now I need to kick this COVID out of my body and rest up.
Before I go, I want to acknowledge that today—January 9th—is my oldest’s birthday. Out of respect for my children’s wishes, I won’t share any details. I’ll simply say this: Happy Birthday, Mini-Me. I love you always.
September felt like a season of storms—waves of emotions crashing before I could catch my breath. In the middle of heartache, fear, and exhaustion, I also found unexpected moments of truth and validation. For years, I carried the weight of being dismissed, unheard, and told it was “all in my head.” But this month, the tests finally spoke the words I’ve been saying all along. It is both terrifying and strangely comforting to finally be seen.
——-
So much—oh, so much—has happened this September, and I am on the verge of breaking down.
I’ve stopped pushing for closed captions on Twitch because my home life has completely taken over. It’s been one thing after another, nonstop, and this is a month I never want to relive. I’m writing this on September 26th, already dreading what next week might bring. Two doctor’s appointments are waiting for me, and while I have a sinking feeling about the results, I’m not ready to hear them. For years, I’ve said something was wrong. And now, finally, the tests are proving me right.
For so long, I was brushed aside, told it was nothing, told it was all in my head. But the tests don’t lie. For the first time, I am being validated.
And I’m in tears. I am drowning in anger, sadness, frustration, and the bitter taste of “I told you so.” I want to scream at everyone who ever dismissed me. I’ve been silenced and ignored since I was a teenager—13, maybe 14—when I first felt something was deeply wrong. I’ll never forget one day in particular: riding back from a school field trip, clutching my chest in searing pain. Someone told me I looked pale, and every breath felt like a knife stabbing me from the inside. The pain was unbearable—I could hardly breathe. When we got back to school, instead of being rushed to the hospital, I was just sent home on the bus. I sat there, terrified, convinced I was going to die. I remember the anger, the fear, the sadness—and the deep, crushing feeling of being unloved.
Episodes like that followed me into adulthood. Every primary doctor I saw (and I’ve had several, since I kept moving) assumed it was asthma.
But after moving to Illinois and finally having proper health insurance, I went to see a primary doctor for different reasons. At first, she laughed at one of my questions, asking if I was worried. I said no—it had become “normal” to me. But then, during another appointment, she noticed my heart rate and looked at me seriously: “This isn’t normal. Do you want me to refer you to a heart doctor?” My answer was an immediate, “YES. I want to know what’s going on.”
So off I went. Several tests have already shown problems, and next week I’ll get the full results. I’ve done my research, and I think I already know what’s coming. And it makes me furious, because with what I now understand, I realize I could have died all those years ago—yet I was ignored.
Not everything this month was dark, though. In the first two weeks, I reconnected with a dear friend I hold close to my heart. Just talking with him again brought back happy memories, and one day, I’d love to see him in person.
On September 8th, I quietly celebrated the belated birthday of Jonathan Taylor Thomas—someone who has always held a special place in my heart and memories. The very next day, I stepped into something deeply personal: my tattoo appointment. It wasn’t planned, but this piece carries so much meaning. I spent four hours under the needle, and though it’s not finished yet—I’ll be going back for the details and background—it already looks incredible on my right lower leg. That day, I did something powerful: I spoke aloud the name of the person who once had control over me, and in that moment, I took that power back. To him I say—your hold is gone. You no longer control me. I am stronger now.
My tattoo hint … for now. Note: Not my photo, I snatch it somewhere in google image search.
The rest of the month blurred into appointments—some I kept, some I had to cancel because I was too exhausted. In the middle of all that, my grandcat, Cal was rushed to the ER. Thankfully, we caught the issue in time; otherwise, we might have lost him.
Calcifer, my grandcat
At the same time, I was juggling my own cat, Ash’s medications, transferring them from one company to another, which was a huge hassle but necessary.
Then, on September 25th, right after coming home from my echocardiogram, I received devastating news. A leader at my workplace—someone I admired deeply as a role model—passed away suddenly. As far as I knew, he had no health issues, so it was a complete shock.
Jeremy Moore September 10, 1976 – September 25, 2025
And just minutes later, I got the alert with my echo results. The moment I opened them, my face went pale.
So now, my emotions are everywhere—a tangled mess of grief, fear, anger, and exhaustion. Right now, all I want is to be left alone.
Today is June 23rd and I felt the need to type to keep my mind occupied. There was so much have happened in June. I figure I would get ahead while I can.
I have been going to physical therapy weekly for my sciatica. For several days, finally I am happy to report I’m off the pain medication which was my main goal and not feeling pain anymore. There are days, I can feel it hinting but it hasn’t gone worst so I’ll take that.
I recently found out that my sisters’ father isn’t doing well and is pretty much ending of his life. I find myself sad. I am sad for my sisters and I’m sad for myself because this is the man who welcomed me into his home when I was a small child whenever my sisters go for their visits. I remember 4th of July – we would walk to the end of the street and just watch parades then at night, we would sneak few fireworks before police were called. I remember my sisters’ grandmother has this beautiful flowers and plants in her backyard so my 4th oldest sister and I would play tag or hide and seek. We would have a blast together there.
Today, I find myself telling a guy about his beautiful eyes. I was able to describe it and he was blushing at that. I don’t recall ever describing anything like this to anyone expect writing it down in reports or whatever in school requirements. I felt my writing here has starting to spread into my daily language. I am very happy with that because I’ve always felt I got something more to say.
I’m also noticing that I would say certain things that would get people’s eyes perk up and was very interested in what I have to say because of my mindset that I’ve set up for myself. I normally kept those quiet but lately, I don’t give a damn. The people who wants to discuss what I have to say would stay around while others walk away. Its kinda like picking a favorite color of your crayons and everyone has different taste. I find myself making the efforts to describe, explain, and detailing the picture so other people would know what I’m trying to say when I didn’t have the correct word.
In Twitch, in the past 2 or 3 weeks now, I’ve ramped up my interaction with different people and exposing myself to new people. I’ve met amazing new people and few not so great people. There was one situation that I happened to be dragged into a drama that I had nothing to do with but I was associated with the streamer who I regularly went to. I was very upset that this person made the choice for me when I wanted to stay neutral in that space. In this month, a hearing streamer who I became a good friend decided to reach out to my Deaf friend to see if they play together. Since then, their friendship relationship has bloom and few deaf people are joining in that circle. It makes me wants to scream, ” Yes! ” and just have giggling moment of happiness. This was my goal of introducing my 2 world into one sharing space and just enjoy. Maybe there is something that one person can teach others while others can teach something back. That is what friendship is all about and I’m seeing exactly that right before my eyes.
To my surprise, a Deaf person who I’ve known for several months decided to stream for the first time last night and I legit ran to certain hearing streamers who I knew would help the interaction. The pure shock of this streamer seeing new people saying, ” Oh Amanda brought me here. Hi, how are you” just makes me so happy. There was some comments that hearing people made about me just blows my heart away.
I’ve worked so hard to build relationship because the relationship for me is hard. I have hard time building relationship with people and maintaining that. I’m getting that return and I just… without words. Awe-struck.
Today its August 19th —
I was going through and trying to identifying my emotions. A lot of heavy stuff. There was so many things that was happening one after another and/or happening around the same time.
Quick sum-up of three months …
I’ve gotten a new computer so I could play games on it. My sisters’ father has passed away. There was birth in the family. My best friend’s fiancé recently passed away. In the month of July, I almost went to ER several times because of my health declining. In 3 months span, I’ve gone to several medical related appointments to try to figure out what was happening. Rollercoaster ride with sciatica have continued. My birthday of August 2nd came and went. I also dealt with my Ash’s medical health. There was power outrage due to the storm. Sink holes have appeared in the town and there was some flooding in the areas.
Many of my emotions felt like I was searching for a pity party and quite honestly, I am not. It is giving me a bad taste. There was other emotions intertwine which I had to heavily sort through.
I was terrified leaving my home due to my declining health but I took a trip out of state to visit my best friend for the weekend. I was able to be there and be supportive as I could be. My best friend also got her first tattoo in tribute to her fiancé.
I love this tattoo and it is a very nice tribute, in my opinion. We went out to dinner at Rafferty’s and it was nice setting. The foods there was definitely 5 stars out of 5. It was nice being away from distraction and it was just two of us for only a little while. We had Watermelon Express which I thought was very good. It was a perfect summer drink. I was very glad I was able to be there for my friend when she needed someone’s shoulder to cry on. I love you, besties!
I became several streamers’ moderator through Twitch which I am honored to be asked. My raise awareness on closed captions have continued and the numbers of streamers having their closed captioning is growing.
Out of all of this, I continue to be grateful that my children are healthy and they are alright.
Sorry, I am not in writing mood and just wanted you guys to know I am okay. Just taking one day at a time.
DeafAmanda 