Acceptance Does Not Mean Quitting

(You can see the first part of this story, The Job of Acceptance, here.)

Despite feeling devastated and hopeless with being let down by my body, I got the job to which I applied.

Spinocerebellar Ataxia

A legacy passed down.

An affliction of the brain

that has stripped me

of physical abilities

over time;

those have been replaced with`

perseverance, determination,

insatiable curiosity.

Patience and confidence are tested

daily - sometimes I fall;

I have always risen.

That is the legacy I choose.

It was basically a Data Entry position at a lumber mill. It was actually pretty cool. I would add up types and numbers of logs brought in by loggers and enter those numbers into a spreadsheet. I was titled an Accountant. Not sure it had a lot to do with actual accounting, but whatever. The work was simple enough, but complex and interesting to me. It kept my over-thinking brain engaged. I used an adding machine and a computer; the job also entailed constantly fixing and setting up the dot-matrix printer, filing and inventory. Inventory meant moving boxes of paperwork down to an old basement.

The guys would lend a hand when there was heavy lifting involved and stairs, and they even sanded a pathway through the parking lot from my truck to the entrance when it became too icy for me to walk. Another of the office workers grabbed food for me when the guys decided to have a cook-out for lunch. The people were nice, accommodating, and I hardly had to ask for any help when needed. I was good at my job, reliable and they enjoyed having me around. I really enjoyed my time there.

One evening, I attended a work-related function held annually for the women of the office. It was dinner and drinks and an empowerment seminar. It was a nice time. I remember we spoke about it at the office the next day. One of the topics brought up by the speaker was a question – “Are you a pond, ocean or river?” I compared myself to being a river. I guess I was supposed to be striving to be a pond, as the other women patted me on shoulder, gave me a look of sympathy and said something like “Don’t worry, you’ll get there.” Get where? To being a pond? Why would I want to be a stagnant pond, ever? Why did they? I still don’t understand that. It’s been over fifteen years, and I still wonder.

I think I just looked at them, confused, and smiled. It’s fine if others want to be a pond. It’s good for swimming. I don’t like to swim.

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I worked there for over two years when I decided I needed to change course, and leave my job. My boyfriend and I had purchased a house, gotten married, and soon I became pregnant. Working really wasn’t even a consideration. I had always known that if I were ever to become a parent, I would be a stay-at-home Mom. My husband was always very supportive of that decision, and I am grateful I made that choice. Also, the boss/office manager I was hired under had left. The person she was replaced with, and I, did not really see eye-to-eye, so I’m sure she was not sad to see me go.

What I do miss, however, is the independence and autonomy. I have learned a lot about myself in the meantime. Mainly, that I’m a terrible housekeeper! I do like to cook, though baking is not my thing, and I do like the quiet of having the house to myself when both my husband and daughter are at work and school.

Working at the lumber mill was my last job outside of the home. I miss the job, but will never regret my choice.