Waiting for Independence

There comes a point in time when you have to stop waiting. Waiting for the next happening to transpire is a never ending cycle. It’s holding your breath minute after minute, expecting something to come out of nothing. You wait and everything passes you by. People. Places. Moments in time. They all go on without you, whether you’re ready or not.

After being released from a rehabilitation center two months after my injury, I went back home. I wasn’t ready to be on my own, nor had the ability to be. I needed help. Needing is normal for a young twenty-something, but the assistance I required was far from normal for someone my age. Coming home I had plenty to practice, learn, and achieve. Since then I have succeeded in gaining my independence. Independence means so much more to me than it does for most others. It’s more than being self-sufficient or responsible or mature. For me, independence is survival. I’m now stronger, more stable, and more confident with both myself and my life as a paraplegic. All it took was a little time and a lot of trial and error. I became strong enough to transfer myself to the surfaces I need to be most days, like my bed, the shower, the couch, and the car. I now have the stability to navigate myself around a kitchen and prepare meals for myself and others. With ingenuity and patience I make my own trips to the grocery store. I do laundry. I clean. You name it, and most likely it’s something I’m capable of. I can go an entire day without asking someone for help. That is independence, and it brings me more joy than I thought possible.

Reaching this goal of independence was all that has fueled me the last ten months. Yes, it’s usually the ultimate goal for someone living with a spinal cord injury, and for some it takes years. I know that it was a combination of ambition, support, and luck that has allowed me to have this freedom back.

I’ve hit my fair share of obstacles along the way. Scars that seemed to take forever to heal. Emergency room trips. Muscles that proved too weak for daily tasks. And then there’s the physical obstacle of wheeling through a snowfall. The snow turned into rain, the grass began to green, and the days got longer. It was then that I knew my time for independence had arrived. As if living on my own would not be challenging enough, finding an apartment that was both affordable and accessible appeared to be near impossible. But, like any other obstacle, I overcame it.

I have been living independently now for almost two weeks. It’s not easy, and it may never be, but it will get easier with time. In the last two weeks, I’ve realized just how much I was forced to give up because of my spinal cord injury. Initially, you have no choice. There are things in which you just cannot do. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. A lot of what you give up you have to learn again, this time in a different way than before. My recovery is an ongoing process. A process, as it turns out, that can consume most of my everyday life. I forgot what it felt like to be myself. Ten months ago I felt that I held a certain ferocity and freedom. Being accustomed to receiving care day after day, however large or small, I forgot that. It at the very least put a veil over parts of what I was before.

Living independently, I can no longer hide. I would be lying if I didn’t say that there was an immense comfort in being at home. It’s something I’m incredibly thankful for, but I found myself not wanting to venture out solely because I didn’t want to experience the feeling of being differently abled in an able-bodied world. I couldn’t keep waiting for that feeling to go away. I couldn't just wait for independence to fall into my lap. Hiding away isn’t something that anyone who’s different should do. So, I did what I thought needed to come next and put myself out there, away from home.

At the end of the day, it’s me. That’s the only fragment of life that holds me back. Waiting will do nothing at all. Waiting doesn’t guarantee any outcome. I would rather be reaching, striving, living, and learning than waiting. I look at what I was, what I am, and what I want to be, and I see that I haven’t gotten anywhere waiting for something to happen. I may try and fail, but I may prevail.

The world will never normalize anyone different from the bubble of what’s acceptable and pleasant. But the reality, my reality, is that my life isn’t conventional and is often unsightly from an outside view. Nowadays I might be fragile, unfortunate, and damaged from that outward glance. Though looking in, I’m really the opposite. To say that I’m weak when the reality is that I’ve been strong enough to endure the unimaginable. To say that I’m unfortunate when the reality is that it’s luck, along with labor, that has brought me to this point in my life. To say that I’m damaged when the reality is that I’m healed, and am not broken. It’s a monumental misconception, but it is not one of my own, and it is not one that I will wait for others to understand.

Living on my own, I am not alone, but I am independent. I can only hope that my independence has an outward effect on the world, at least the small one I have created for myself. For hoping is different than waiting, and we should all aspire for something in life.