She was telling me about her search for a part time job that would both meet her logistical criteria and be interesting for her. After years of working just a few hours each week from home, she wanted a change. Just listening, I got excited, and remembered the feeling of accomplishment I got when I worked. I started thinking that I should look for a job, too. Then I quickly came back down to Earth.
Of course I couldn’t work. She stopped working because she could: her part time work from home was lucrative, and her husband earned good money. She was in fine health and there was no reason for her not to get work if she wanted to. I, on the other hand, can’t work. I am too sick. Even my attempts to work part time from home have failed, resulting in worsening health and little money. My only success so far has been dog sitting. I love it, but it doesn’t cover my bills and it doesn’t use my brain the way my former jobs once did.
The strange thing is that this isn’t the first time I’ve forgotten I can’t do something. I had to stop working almost SEVEN year ago. This isn’t new. Yet sometimes I forget. Because I still feel like the old me sometimes, like someone who can go on dates and go out with friends and work full time and clean my own apartment. Maybe I didn’t always enjoying doing all of those things, but I did them. And now I can’t.
I struggle to reconcile who I was, who I feel I should be, and who I am. They’re all me, but somehow, they’re not. My abilities and disabilities alter my personality in ways I don’t expect, but then leave other parts intact, much to my surprise. So I forget. I forget that I can’t go on a hike or swim before heading to a party or get a job. And forgetting isn’t the problem. Remembering is the problem. Because remembering sucks. Remembering brings it all crashing back.
So I will try to support my new friend in her search for a part time job, while also trying to stay grounded in the knowledge that I am unable to do the same. Because right now, that’s my reality.