The Hitch: Part 2

Is preparing to go on holiday always a hassle? I got all the crazy put into place and found another crazy but not-so-crazy something waiting to greet me: my calendar! I think I need to travel more often. It could serve to keep me on my toes.

The above sentiment is healthy, and yet, I don’t like to travel due to what I wrote about in the first post; here I am poised to do this again. I know I’ll love it once I’m there; it’s the getting-there part that is annoying me. It’s also the fact that I’m self-employed, and the secretary/boss has to make sure all things are buttoned up before going. The hitch? People with low vision don’t do things fast; we do them slowly.

I can listen to stuff on audio that is at a faster speed than you might think possible. It takes time to learn to do it. When it comes to seeing, I look slowly to make sure I don’t see it wrong. So, clearing my schedule takes more time. Everything does. I wish it were not so.

The most frustrating thing I deal with is the “abled” who get bugged because I’m not doing it fast enough. Do your work, people! I am not your problem. Your inability to exercise patience with me is your issue, not mine. My independence is not up for grabs. Is yours?

Maybe the biggest hitch in our lives is people who aren’t willing to allow those of us with lesser physical abilities the opportunity to create our own ways of independent functioning. Those of us who have done our work know our limits. We ask for help when needed. The chances are high that in therapy, a rehab center, or somewhere else, we’ve had to come to terms with hard realities that haven’t broken us. If they did break us, it was only until we scraped ourselves off the emotional floor and got up again, knowing we could rebuild ourselves. We’re secure in what we need and don’t need. We don’t need others trying to feel comfortable for their own sake.

I spent fifteen months in a vision rehab center, learning how to do new things independently, without the use of my eyes. The two most essential skills I learned were how to talk to others about what I see and don’t see, and the ability to face the ugly truth about what my life really is. Simply stated, I learned to deal with messiness in constructive ways.

I spent one hour every week being confronted by the sweetest woman. She could match her clothes to a coffee cup and dish out confrontation of the highest caliber. She made me think, reframe, and understand myself as a person with disability. Most of the residents didn’t like the process; I inhaled it!

Our independence comes at deep personal growth, and often we pay a price for that growth. We lose friends who can’t deal with the fact that life is messy. We gain new friends who get that the messes of our lives encourage the roots we’ve planted to go deeper, to reach the water that is buried deep within the earth of our souls.

We’re strong; we can stand for ourselves. So, cut the worship narrative—we don’t need it!  We’ve dug down in places you may have not gone yet. You may have dug in soil we’ve not been in. Let’s learn from one another by offering up the needed insights we can give to each other.

I’ll settle into a slow, methodical clearing of my calendar this week. The days of fun, laughter with friends, eating, and discovery are near at hand! Time to move towards it. Hopefully there won’t be any holiday hitch.