I play not march for victors only....I play great marches for
conquered and slain persons.
Have you heard that it was good to gain the day?
I also say it is good to fall....battles are lost in the
same spirit in which they are won.
I sound triumphal for the dead....I fling through my
embouchures the loudest and gayest music to them.
Vivas to those who have failed, and those whose war-vessels
sank in the sea, and those themselves who sank in the sea,
And to all generals that lost engagements, and all overcome
heroes,
and the numberless unknown heroes equal to the greatest
heroes known.
--Walt Whitman, Song of Myself, (18)
And I hope you have reached your most important goals and developed more.
--mettle fatigue
How do we get started?
This diary is the answer to a comment by mettle fatigue when KosAbility posted my diary of “Breaking the Silence” during the 5-11-2014 meeting.
Have I reached all my goals? Which leads to, “What am I doing here at DK?”
Follow me over the orangebow to explore this topic.
KosAbility is a community diary series posted at 7 pm ET/4 pm PT every Sunday by volunteer diarists. This is a gathering place for people who are living with disabilities, who love someone with a disability, or who want to know more about the issues surrounding this topic. Our use of "disability" includes temporary as well as permanent conditions, and small, gnawing problems as well as big, life-threatening ones. Our use of "love someone" extends to beloved members of other species.
Our discussion threads are open threads in the context of this community. Please feel free to comment on the diary topic and ask questions of the diarist, and also to ask general questions about disabilities, share something you've learned, tell bad jokes, post photos, or rage about the unfairness of your situation. Our only rule is to be kind; trolls will be spayed or neutered. If you are interested in contributing a diary, contact series coordinator postmodernista.
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I’m now working at a just slightly over minimum wage job. I have a master’s degree and over 10 years of experience in a vocation that I trained for after the stroke. And I was damn good at what I did. I was one of the best job developers in that office. I resigned why? Could I not handle the stress? The anger and the idea that I let clients, coworkers, family and good friends down, not to mention myself, reside just below the level of consciousness. I want to explore these feelings.
In 1997, I received acclaim for writing “Never Again” during my sophomore year at Richland College. I knew then that I could achieve my goal of working full time in a vocation that would be even with, or better, than my previous HVAC trade. I was 38 years old at the time. There was just enough time to train for another employment field and still have time to build up a good retirement.
Counseling was the field of selected interest, one within reach, despite my physical handicaps and communication impediments. Being a counselor, with the thought that I could be a good listener, would be easy—I could say, “Uh huh, tell me more,” all day long! Or so I thought. I did not realize how much energy it took to be a good counselor. Counseling requires engaging with the client on a very deep level. Employment counseling is a little better; it does not require as deep of emotional communication day in and day out. There is more room for errors that are not as devastating for the clients. Or to myself.
I attended SMU for my Bachelor’s in Psychology and North Texas to complete my Master’s in Rehabilitation Counseling. At my graduation, my family threw a party and invited everyone to attend. I thought I made it! I was hired to work as a Rehab Counselor for the TRC (now Texas Department of Assistive and Rehabilitative Services, DARS), office of my internship. I gladly gave up my Social Security Disability Income (SSDI) in order to make real money, a wage that I earned.
My first stint did not last long. I had no experience at running a 120-person caseload. I was soon overwhelmed; anxiety got the better of me and I resigned on my 30th day. I could not handle the emotional investment that I had with the clients as well as keep abreast with the large caseload. I cried when I turned in my resignation. I was frightened that I could not do the job I was trained for, fearful that I had wasted all those years chasing a dream, like Don Quixote titling windmills.
Oh, that’s just great! A man that comes back from a stroke and spends all that time and effort to earn his Master’s and has one month of employment to show for it? Good luck finding another job!
I felt that I had let everybody down, my family and friends, loved ones, plus all the people who had supported me in the quest for full time employment and self-sufficiency.
Well, I found work as an employment counselor shortly thereafter, thanks to the people who continued to believe. This job came with a smaller caseload, and I was working more closely with the clients. It better matched my strengths, desires and abilities.
But, it was all I could do to work the 40 hours required, leaving little time do anything else. Gone were the pre-stroke days of endless energy, when I could rise up at 7 and go until midnight each and every day. The energy demands of attending college do not match the energy levels required for working at a full-time job. College contained lots of moments of intense demand, with plenty of downtime between semesters and summer sessions.
After about 2 years of working full time, Charlie and I decided that I should go back on SSDI and work part-time (PT). The decision to go back on SSDI was excruciating, but it came down to this formula – time with family versus full-time employment and retirement. If I found working full-time difficult now, just think what it will be like when I turn 50.
I wound up working PT in the Supported Employment division of LifePath Systems as a job developer. I would cold call employers for opportunities to employ people with developmental disabilities or autism. It is a very rewarding employment. I was a good job developer mainly, I think, because of my inherent stubbornness that resisted taking “no” from an employer.
The reasons for my resignation from Life Path are complicated, but it came down to the fact that my family needed me—all of me. I knew that one day my parents and Charlie’s parents would need us, and that moment is here. Charlie’s mother is a widow, a stroke survivor and depends on a wheelchair for mobility. My mother is a widow, a stroke survivor and lives with dementia.
My mother had to go to an assistive living facility after she left the house, in only her nightgown, with her walker at 6:00 AM, to “ go to town.” A neighbor was outside watering her yard and prevented her from getting hurt on the country road. Mom still remembers that episode even though now she can’t remember if she ate lunch, yet alone what it consisted of. When I asked if she had any idea why she was in her nightgown, she will say, “How do you think I was going to get there? I was going to hitchhike with some trucker!” And then we both laugh….
With the help of my sisters and the assistive living facility, Mom gets good care. I get the easy part of playing chauffeur to her doctor’s appointments. I try to take mom out to lunch 1 time per week. Last year, I started out on visitations either 3 or 4 times per week, but that is so confusing for Mom. She waits every day for my visitations, whether I was scheduled to visit her or not. So, I try now to visit her everyday. Mom does better when I visit each day, even if I can’t stay long.
The lesson I learned about life in my first few years of rehab was that family and close friends are more important than money. Evidently, I tend to forget the lesson’s importance in my quest to better myself.
I realize Mom will not be around for much longer; I will not regret the time I spend with her now. I made the right decision--being married to Charlie helps. Charlie is my role model.
And, that is a good thing.
So now I work at a local gym. It is stress free. I fell in love with the gym and physical fitness sometime back. I run the cash register, answer the phone, check the members in, help with their bills, wash, dry and fold towels.
And, that is a good thing.
And, I have started to journal again. I have not journaled since 1997. To write, just for the sake of writing, no matter how difficult it may be. I have missed writing about my experiences, which are unique because of the stroke. And, now, I have time to share them. The sharing with others is thrilling to me.
And, that is a good thing.
Thank you spending this time with me--helping me to heal.
And, that my friends, is a good thing.