Life's funny, isn't it? We live it, for the most part, love it, all the
while, dealing with it. Recently, I took part in a driver's evaluation. The
counselor in me was prepared for it, whatever the outcome. Jessica Dineen, the
individual, was anything but prepared for the onslaught of emotion that came
after the evaluation: the tears, the anger, the despair, the frustration, the
anxiety, and the grief.
As I began the evaluation, I was grateful that at least I wasn't alone- there was someone with me who could offer the moral support I needed to get started- someone who has offered much support, both professionally and personally in recent months. I have a hard time even articulating what the relationship means to me, but nonetheless, I am thankful for it.
For so many, driving is a rite of passage, a natural progression in life. At 26, it seemed like the natural next step as I continue to work toward a greater sense of independence and freedom. Here I am- I have a great job, accomplishing much more than the average 26 year old, with or without a disability. At work, I can finally say that I feel more comfortable with what I need to do each day. I don't have a desire to leave because I am overwhelmed. Don't get me wrong, I think sometimes I still have more bad days than good- but, thankfully, they are decreasing in intensity, and I've been told that what I feel is still normal. At home, I am inching my way closer to accepting outside help, I am taking part in more leisurely activities, I can get myself to church, etc. These are small things to most, but monumental to me. Not to mention, I now have a new chair that is actually designed for me- slowly but surely, the kinks are getting worked out and it's making my life easier, both at home and at work. So, like I said, exploring the possibility of driving just seemed like the next logical step.
When I was younger, taking part in a similar evaluation for the first time, I was bound and determined to drive- I did not care what needed to be done, I wasn't taking no for an answer. I didn't want to hear that people with CP are the hardest to train to drive, that I may never be able to drive. By the end of that evaluation, I was so mad- I was told I may never drive, but it was never explained to me why that was the case.
As I continued in college, becoming more mature, and gaining more insight, I began to realize that there were worse things than not having the ability to drive. Winter after winter, I was reminded almost daily of my poor depth perception as I maneuvered from class to class. I was continually reminded of how nervous I became in certain situations. I remember the three times that I almost broke my ankles because of my slow reaction time which caused my feet to slam into doors. And let's not even talk about the many times my wheelchair went off the sidewalk, putting me in some dangerous situations at times, or the numerous times I misjudged where the doorway was in conjunction to where I needed to be to make it through. If you've known me for any length of time, in any capacity, you just know I cannot drive!
Still though, I felt like I owed it to myself to try one last time. Driving would allow me so much freedom, and I just wanted a taste of the freedom that so many others take for granted. Knowing I've matured, I was confident that maybe, just maybe, the outcome would be different this time around. But as the evaluation began, I was ever reminded of my weaknesses as it relates to driving safely. Thinking back on it, I don't remember much of the paper and pencil portion- it was a lot to take in, my nerves were shot, and I became overwhelmed, thus essentially shutting down. As I began the behind-the-wheel portion, my entire body tensed up. I relaxed only when the van wasn't moving. I found myself overloaded with it all: turning, braking, accelerating, it was too much for me. And I was only in a parking lot. But in those few minutes, I was already emotionally and physically drained. My apparent vision issues were suddenly very clear to me. Before I even finished, I knew that driving would never be for me. The counselor in me had the insight to recognize that it would be okay because at least I can recognize my limitations.
Jessica Dineen, the 26 year old person with a disability was crushed. As the evaluation came to a close, as I was left alone to begin to process the outcome, I just fell apart. How is it that someone so young, with such potential, must be dealt such a deadly blow? In those moments, life was not something I loved, it was something I hated and wanted to escape, not literally, but figuratively I just couldn't take it. Knowing that I would never drive, hearing myself say I couldn't do it, and hearing the evaluator echo my concerns, it was the final paragraph of a chapter I was not ready to close yet. I was desperate to escape and deny it- I was sure I was in a nightmare and soon would wake up.
After a while, I was finally able to share the outcome. All I could say was "It's not fair." I was so broken, so mad. As I sat on my porch, reviewing the day, I was suddenly numb. The counselor in me gave myself a pep talk, but it didn't help. Suddenly, I had this brilliant idea that I could return to work. I couldn't help myself, but maybe I could help someone else because being home alone was not a good idea either. It was a great idea, until I realized that there was no way I could get there as no one could pick me up in time for me to return to work to make it worth it. The tears came...again. Over and over, thoughts of how unfair my life was raced through my overloaded, pounding head. How is this my life? Why? And how in the world could I ever move past this, much less help someone else navigate through similar processes in the future?
As the tears flowed, my phone rang- thank God it did because I desperately needed to talk to someone. Little by little, I began to process it all, all the while being convinced that returning to work was not the thing to do. Later, I was convinced to go swimming which helped immensely. I think in life, disability or not, we lose sight of those in our life who genuinely care. Many of my customers have many of the same challenges I face day in and day out. I'm not sure though how many of them have the support I do. For sure, this whole process has given me new appreciation for the struggles that so many go through- often alone. Life is hard sometimes and we all need trusted people to vent to. I am so grateful for those people in my life- friends, mentors, family members, etc.- some filling voids I truly didn't even know existed, and checking in at just the right time.
It's been a little over 48 hours since this emotional roller coaster began. The counselor in me was sure going to work yesterday was the answer- not one of my brightest moves. As I came home, I was overcome with it all again.
So, today, here I am, taking a day for me- to process, to grieve, and to close this chapter, the dream that for so long has been a part of my life. Am I done grieving, processing, and dealing with all of it? Probably not, but I am in a much better place now that my thoughts are written down.
Never forget to take time for you. In all things, big or small, don't lose sight of your feelings- you are entitled to every single one. Perhaps most importantly, around every corner, if you let Him, Jesus will be there to wipe your tears.
As I began the evaluation, I was grateful that at least I wasn't alone- there was someone with me who could offer the moral support I needed to get started- someone who has offered much support, both professionally and personally in recent months. I have a hard time even articulating what the relationship means to me, but nonetheless, I am thankful for it.
For so many, driving is a rite of passage, a natural progression in life. At 26, it seemed like the natural next step as I continue to work toward a greater sense of independence and freedom. Here I am- I have a great job, accomplishing much more than the average 26 year old, with or without a disability. At work, I can finally say that I feel more comfortable with what I need to do each day. I don't have a desire to leave because I am overwhelmed. Don't get me wrong, I think sometimes I still have more bad days than good- but, thankfully, they are decreasing in intensity, and I've been told that what I feel is still normal. At home, I am inching my way closer to accepting outside help, I am taking part in more leisurely activities, I can get myself to church, etc. These are small things to most, but monumental to me. Not to mention, I now have a new chair that is actually designed for me- slowly but surely, the kinks are getting worked out and it's making my life easier, both at home and at work. So, like I said, exploring the possibility of driving just seemed like the next logical step.
When I was younger, taking part in a similar evaluation for the first time, I was bound and determined to drive- I did not care what needed to be done, I wasn't taking no for an answer. I didn't want to hear that people with CP are the hardest to train to drive, that I may never be able to drive. By the end of that evaluation, I was so mad- I was told I may never drive, but it was never explained to me why that was the case.
As I continued in college, becoming more mature, and gaining more insight, I began to realize that there were worse things than not having the ability to drive. Winter after winter, I was reminded almost daily of my poor depth perception as I maneuvered from class to class. I was continually reminded of how nervous I became in certain situations. I remember the three times that I almost broke my ankles because of my slow reaction time which caused my feet to slam into doors. And let's not even talk about the many times my wheelchair went off the sidewalk, putting me in some dangerous situations at times, or the numerous times I misjudged where the doorway was in conjunction to where I needed to be to make it through. If you've known me for any length of time, in any capacity, you just know I cannot drive!
Still though, I felt like I owed it to myself to try one last time. Driving would allow me so much freedom, and I just wanted a taste of the freedom that so many others take for granted. Knowing I've matured, I was confident that maybe, just maybe, the outcome would be different this time around. But as the evaluation began, I was ever reminded of my weaknesses as it relates to driving safely. Thinking back on it, I don't remember much of the paper and pencil portion- it was a lot to take in, my nerves were shot, and I became overwhelmed, thus essentially shutting down. As I began the behind-the-wheel portion, my entire body tensed up. I relaxed only when the van wasn't moving. I found myself overloaded with it all: turning, braking, accelerating, it was too much for me. And I was only in a parking lot. But in those few minutes, I was already emotionally and physically drained. My apparent vision issues were suddenly very clear to me. Before I even finished, I knew that driving would never be for me. The counselor in me had the insight to recognize that it would be okay because at least I can recognize my limitations.
Jessica Dineen, the 26 year old person with a disability was crushed. As the evaluation came to a close, as I was left alone to begin to process the outcome, I just fell apart. How is it that someone so young, with such potential, must be dealt such a deadly blow? In those moments, life was not something I loved, it was something I hated and wanted to escape, not literally, but figuratively I just couldn't take it. Knowing that I would never drive, hearing myself say I couldn't do it, and hearing the evaluator echo my concerns, it was the final paragraph of a chapter I was not ready to close yet. I was desperate to escape and deny it- I was sure I was in a nightmare and soon would wake up.
After a while, I was finally able to share the outcome. All I could say was "It's not fair." I was so broken, so mad. As I sat on my porch, reviewing the day, I was suddenly numb. The counselor in me gave myself a pep talk, but it didn't help. Suddenly, I had this brilliant idea that I could return to work. I couldn't help myself, but maybe I could help someone else because being home alone was not a good idea either. It was a great idea, until I realized that there was no way I could get there as no one could pick me up in time for me to return to work to make it worth it. The tears came...again. Over and over, thoughts of how unfair my life was raced through my overloaded, pounding head. How is this my life? Why? And how in the world could I ever move past this, much less help someone else navigate through similar processes in the future?
As the tears flowed, my phone rang- thank God it did because I desperately needed to talk to someone. Little by little, I began to process it all, all the while being convinced that returning to work was not the thing to do. Later, I was convinced to go swimming which helped immensely. I think in life, disability or not, we lose sight of those in our life who genuinely care. Many of my customers have many of the same challenges I face day in and day out. I'm not sure though how many of them have the support I do. For sure, this whole process has given me new appreciation for the struggles that so many go through- often alone. Life is hard sometimes and we all need trusted people to vent to. I am so grateful for those people in my life- friends, mentors, family members, etc.- some filling voids I truly didn't even know existed, and checking in at just the right time.
It's been a little over 48 hours since this emotional roller coaster began. The counselor in me was sure going to work yesterday was the answer- not one of my brightest moves. As I came home, I was overcome with it all again.
So, today, here I am, taking a day for me- to process, to grieve, and to close this chapter, the dream that for so long has been a part of my life. Am I done grieving, processing, and dealing with all of it? Probably not, but I am in a much better place now that my thoughts are written down.
Never forget to take time for you. In all things, big or small, don't lose sight of your feelings- you are entitled to every single one. Perhaps most importantly, around every corner, if you let Him, Jesus will be there to wipe your tears.
Face down
Having nothing else to cling to
But need of love that only You can give
Face down
Where I know that I belong
And I pray with grace that this world sees in me
Someone humbled and broken at Your feet
Having nothing else to cling to
But need of love that only You can give
Face down
Where I know that I belong
And I pray with grace that this world sees in me
Someone humbled and broken at Your feet
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