When I was in kindergarten, my teacher noticed I had trouble focusing on my work. I'd sit there and not do it. I'd daydream instead. She thought I hadn't understood the directions, and when it kept happening, she recommended I have my IQ screened. Well, it turned out I had the intellectual capacity of a fourth-grader. Kindergarten work bored me, that's why I wasn't focusing.

I remember that day. "The doctor said you're as smart as a nine-year-old," was the way my mother worded it. Interesting that the teacher's first assumption was that I didn't understand. I wonder why she jumped to the conclusion that I must have been stupid.

What stirred up a lot of these feelings was that yesterday our church had a picnic. Among the festivities was a game of croquet, which I hadn't played since my children were little. Well, we all struggled. The grass was overgrown and the soil was clumpy and uneven, which made it difficult to be accurate with our shots. But I had more trouble than most, since I am also physically and visually challenged. I managed, but I was always a wicket behind everyone else. When they started allowing me extra swings, I began to feel as I have felt many times in my life--like the family retarded kid. (Before anybody takes offense here, please let me elaborate later. I'll explain.)

My husband, on the field not as a player but to help me walk on the uneven ground and hold my cane when it was my turn, probably inadvertently triggered those feelings the first time they suggested an extra swing, and without thinking, he commented, "Oh, OK, they're going to give you charity." I say this because in a similar situation, a volleyball game with a previous church, they let me come up far closer to the net when it was my turn to serve, and I didn't feel that way. I think my husband's comment did have something to do with it, although I know he didn't mean it that way.

But then what really ticked me off was when people started coaching me. I don't mean pointing out where the wickets were. They were difficult to see, and I appreciated having somebody stand near it and point while I swung. I mean, telling me strategies, saying things like "Don't hit too hard," or "Hit the yellow ball," or "You want to place your ball here." At one point, when my husband AND another church member AND the pastor *all* began approaching me at the same time to help me, I snapped. "You know, I'm not so stupid that I need this much help." They backed off. Of course I came in last, by far, but that doesn't matter; I had expected to. Later I apologized for biting their heads off, but I was assured I hadn't offended anyone.

I grew up partially raised by my maternal grandmother, and it is significant that my mother had a mentally retarded sister. (This is why I asked people not to take offense at "felt like the family retarded kid." I know how it is. I did have a family member who was special, God rest her recently departed soul.) When I was living in my grandmother's house, it almost seemed to me that Barbie was more like a sister than an aunt, and for some reason I seemed to be compared to her a lot. In fact, there were some more distant relatives who even *confused* me with her, and sometimes called me by her name. I have always wondered why.

To this day, I am hypersensitive about being considered stupid. I'd rather be considered ugly. And I can conclude that I am considered stupid every time someone:
* Assumes, before I even try, that I'm going to mess up.
* Decides I can't do it after one mistake, instead of letting me learn from it.
* Takes something out of my hands to do it themselves.
* Tells me some basic common-sense fact I've known since I was four.
* Gives me extra help they wouldn't give someone else.

And these things happen to me all the time. For instance, my mother used to be really bad about critiquing my personal appearance and home organization, even well into my 30's. She didn't act the same way toward my brothers, and I'm older. I finally had to get angry with her, to get her to stop inspecting me.

Why are people so eager to think I'm stupid?

[dj586858]

Lovebirds, I am sorry those situations haunt you. I used to feel that way before I moved out of my parent's house. My dad wanted someone to cut up my meat because I am left-handed & he thought it looked too awkward when I was doing it. He was always constantly telling me how to do things & what I was doing wrong. It upset me then but now I know he was only doing what he thought was best for me. He was helping his daughter because he probably couldn't or didn't want to see she didn't need it. Since you deal with physical issues, people are going to try to help even more but probably don't know how. I am sure they don't think you are stupid. Maybe if you get involved in another physical activity & they all start trying to help, you can try outright telling them what would help you the most like standing beside the wickets & that you will let them know if you need anymore help. Or maybe "thanks but I've got this." I am sorry you are frustrated. Try to remember that they probably weren't helping because they think you are stupid. They just wanted you to have fun & not get left behind which can happen when you have vision & walking limitations. And just because you have those, I certainly don't think you are stupid. I hope you feel better.

Thank you.

I have just as much issue, probably much more, with ME thinking I'm stupid as opposed to others thinking it. I'll elaborate more during the course of this thread, because I'd like to process it.

Aside from getting excessive unsolicited help, being told what I already know, or not being allowed to make mistakes, what causes me to question myself a lot is the fact that relatives so often compared me to my aunt, and she actually was mentally retarded.

Edited to add this instant flashback. Something just this minute occurred to me. Age seven, second grade. I was highly academic, and usually got the highest marks in my class. But I was far from athletic, couldn't run fast, had trouble learning to ride a bicycle, didn't throw a ball well, things like that. We transferred to a new school, where several schoolmates approached my brother and asked, "Is your sister retarded?" Now, we did have our aunt, and we knew she was different, but we had always been told exactly that. "Different." Or "special." Or, as my mother used to explain it to us, "Her body is like an adult, but her mind is like a child." Until we were older, we had never actually heard the word "retarded" applied to our aunt. So, not being clear on what it meant, when they asked my brother if I was retarded, he answered "Yes." This got the entire student body thinking of me as "the retarded kid," and I did not have one single friend. They wouldn't play with me. They laughed at my lack of athletic ability and made fun of any mistakes I made in class. I remember one particular day when the teacher took every girl in the class out into the hallway, two by two, except me. She wouldn't tell me what it was about, but the children gladly did. "Mrs. Wimmer told us we have to be nice to you even though you're a retard." So that's *two* teachers who had me classified that way. Now I'm thoroughly confused.

But that sets the stage for the flashback. My mother got angry with me on one occasion because I couldn't understand what she was telling me to do. That happens sometimes, when one person is an adult and the other is only seven years old. And, knowing what I was going through in school--and remember, this is the one with the retarded sister--she yelled in frustration, "Sometimes I think you might actually BE retarded!" Just moments later she apologized and told me it had been a very unkind thing to say. Yet even then I noticed, and thought to myself but didn't say out loud, "But you didn't say it wasn't true."

[Rhiannonsmoon]

Hello lovebirdsflying,

Just to let you know, I don't think you are stupid in any way. I've read many of your posts and found you to be compassionate, caring and supportive as well as intelligent and logical.

I have a problem at times with losing my voice it happens often and every time it happens people SHOUT at me when they are talkng. They can't hear my voice to they compensate with their own voices and shout to make sure I can hear them...they also shout very slowly so that I can pick up what they think I don't understand....

The delusion belongs to others so let them have it it's their way of coping.

[Rohag]

Hello, LovebirdsFlying!

Originally Posted by LovebirdsFlying

Why are people so eager to think I'm stupid?

Maybe because they're so eager to think they're superior?

[SophiaG]

I sympathize. I think we just think differently than most people. I had to go on ADD meds and they help me with the spacing-out bit. I too was tested for intelligence when I was younger and proved them wrong.

[WikidPissah]

I've always been really clumsy. To this day when I awkwardly try to do something I hear my dad yelling "you clumsy ox". In school I was always the odd one out, the one with no friends, the last picked for teams in PE. This stuff stays with us, well into adulthood. I am still pretty much friendless and awkward...extremely shy, so at my church gatherings I get ignored. I guess I'm saying that you're obviously not stupid, but it is hard to get rid of those old tapes...isn't it?

Originally Posted by Rohag

Hello, LovebirdsFlying!

Maybe because they're so eager to think they're superior?

You may have hit it right on the head. If I could double-thank a post...

Originally Posted by Eileen2010

I've always been really clumsy. To this day when I awkwardly try to do something I hear my dad yelling "you clumsy ox". In school I was always the odd one out, the one with no friends, the last picked for teams in PE. This stuff stays with us, well into adulthood. I am still pretty much friendless and awkward...extremely shy, so at my church gatherings I get ignored. I guess I'm saying that you're obviously not stupid, but it is hard to get rid of those old tapes...isn't it?

Yep, sure is. My husband's story is pretty similar to yours. He doesn't get ignored at church, but he does have social anxiety. When I told him about what I'd put in this thread, he said he'd gone through the same kind of crap, and I know his father was abusive toward him. Didn't even call him by his name. Called him something I can't repeat here.

[Fuzzybear]

Originally Posted by Rohag

Hello, LovebirdsFlying!

Maybe because they're so eager to think they're superior?

agreeing quietly

I think you're right, but here are the parts that haunt me the most.

**Aside from getting excessive unsolicited help, being told what I already know, or not being allowed to make mistakes, what causes me to question myself a lot is the fact that relatives so often compared me to my aunt, and she actually was mentally retarded."**

**My mother got angry with me on one occasion because I couldn't understand what she was telling me to do. That happens sometimes, when one person is an adult and the other is only seven years old. And, knowing what I was going through in school--and remember, this is the one with the retarded sister--she yelled in frustration, "Sometimes I think you might actually BE retarded!" Just moments later she apologized and told me it had been a very unkind thing to say. Yet even then I noticed, and thought to myself but didn't say out loud, "But you didn't say it wasn't true."**

Not being stupid is one thing. My aunt wasn't stupid either. And like me (see, I just compared the two of us myself) she hated to be over-helped. Step in too fast, and she'd snap, "I'll do it myself!" And she would, too--it just took her longer.

So, "stupid" aside, the real root of what I wonder about myself is--am I retarded? How irrational is that, when I have an above average IQ? But I think there might be other ways to be retarded besides in intelligence. My family never did bother trying to teach me to drive a car. When I asked, I got "Sure, I'll teach you," but no one ever actually did. Even those who had taught my siblings wouldn't teach me. Nowadays I can't see well enough, and I am not medically cleared, but I could have learned, if I had been given a chance at the time.

They assumed I couldn't learn, and they never even tried to teach me. Meanwhile, the only other person in the family who was old enough to drive but didn't, was--you guessed it--my aunt Barbie.