On How I got Here
By Melissa Taylor
Ideally, every
person would accept their challenges in life and find a way around these. A strict schedule of grief and acceptance,
including the how-to manual would be included in a kit, and everyone with
challenges and disabilities would know that “Everyone feels like this!” and
“Everyone has challenges!” and magically, everything would be ok.
However, no typical chart exists. Or if
one exists, I have never been on the chart. Although I draw inspiration from article, persons I meet
with challenges, and segments on television, nothing ever resonates as away of being.
Every person owns their journey in life
with disability. Some may visualize it as a mountain, others deep valley,
others still a swimming in a crashing ocean. A Segway, a walker, a wheelchair,
or crutches may be used to transport him or herself through the terrain, and
the representation of acceptance or success different for each individual. For
some it may be walking independently, for others, adapted sports. Until about
age 23, I was gung-ho about life; an avid student, I worked part time, and I
fulfilled every commitment ever promised.
I never thought I’d feel “stoppable.” As I got older, I had less energy
for positivity. I didn’t walk by myself as much, I’d endured a frustrating
internship at an inner-city school, a successful internship at a school in
town. My heart makes up for whatever I cannot do. I realize now that I compensated with soul
for not only cerebral palsy, but my organizational deficits caused by learning
disabilities. This compensation takes energy, and suddenly, my reserves depleted. Usually a
go-to for positivity, happiness, and love for my students, fatigue paralyzed
me. After deciding to end student teaching, I was lost. Ever since,
well-meaning acquaintances have asked me “What do you want to do with your life?”
I am First, what I wanted in life was
for people to stop asking me questions. I focused on getting a ride to work,
and staying positive, which took energy. Finding my path in life required stamina
not available to me. Trying harder with teaching proved impossible, and
returning to school not feasible. These factors caused me to give up on myself,
the saddest part of my journey. I stopped dreaming when discovering neurological and personal aspects caused me to
cross out opportunities, feeling infinitely disabled. All I thought of were
impossibilities. I’ve always known that
my path to success would be defined differently than a non-disabled person.
However, I refuse to have lower expectations for myself, as I know myself best. With with the right job,
self-support is a reality. This right
job will not appear as a position as a neurosurgeon, a mathematician, but a job that holds passion
and promise. Cashiering is respectable, but there’s a “happiness ceiling”,; a limit to which I can be happy
having other interests, expending much energy for little money, at a location I
have been working since high school. No
longer can I look on the bright side to a job with no promise of professional
growth. I never intended to be tethered indefinitely to the income limits of
social security or the intellectual limits of cashiering. I came to the realization
that as hard as it s that doctors and psychologists box me in with a label, it
is even more disturbing when I box myself in with the labels assigned to me.
No comments:
Post a Comment