That said, working this job has not only opened my eyes up to many of the abilities I take for granted. It has also opened my eyes up to some of my own disabilities. I don't always think of them using that term, but I do have disabilities. One of the large difference between the disabilities of some of the people I work with and my own disabilities is that mine are invisible.
Just because my disabilities are invisible doesn't mean they aren't physical. They just don't show themselves in obvious external ways. I have to know my own limits by knowing what my body is telling me. Unless I lay on the floor after a fainting spell, people aren't likely to know that I am having a difficult physical reaction to things.
Here are a few side effects, stories, and strengths that come with my disability. I would like to point out from the start that feeling guilt and exercising humility are NOT the same thing! In fact, they can be the opposite. I will get to the humility stuff.
1. I feel so much guilt when others do so much for me and then I can't even do some small act for them because my body is absolutely exhausted from fighting its own battles (sometimes to the point where it becomes difficult to breath or to walk or talk). For example, I feel so much guilt when my mom does my laundry for me and then I can't even put it away abruptly because I'm struggling to even get through the other aspects of my day. The feeling of guilt exhausts my body all the more. There is such a strain on it. Anger and sadness sometimes top it off.
2. Having to call up my supervisor once to say I couldn't come into work was one of the hardest things I have ever done, because I don't entirely believe myself. Part of my disability is self-doubt. I tend to think I must be faking things and/or that it would be unnecessary and selfish to ask for accommodations. (I also have a fear that others won't believe me or take me seriously.)
I can't be like others I see who are charging ahead taking all sorts of fancy tests as full time students on top of working so many hours per week. I feel ashamed, angry, self-doubting when I look at what others are doing and see that I struggle to till the soil on the little plot of land God has given me while they're tilling a big plot of land. I feel inferior as I look at them. It takes maturity to know your limits and to accept that.
3. This brings me into another sort of story/fable/whatchamacallit. At work I find that residents sometimes get frustrated when they see other people doing things they can't. They want so badly to do these things. Occasionally they'll lash out with anger. In such situations it can be hard to have patience or to not take things personally.
Yet, I have a certain upper ground in this regard in comparison to some of my coworkers. The fact that I can relate to their desire to do something they can't as well as to the feelings of frustration or inferiority that come with it help me to better empathize with these people. While my disabilities may be less obvious to the common eye (which is often a blessing but comes with its own difficulties), I have a special connection with the residents in this way, and quite honestly I think sometimes the residents see it or sense it.
4. Honestly, one of the biggest reasons I try to hide my disabilities from people is that...well...when you walk into a job interview, "has a disability" isn't usually at the top of the list of traits an employer is looking for. Yes, most places have rules against discriminating based on disability, but I still have fears. Especially considering that the type of work I hope to go into involves working with vulnerable populations and often in difficult situations, I sometimes fear that employers won't think I can handle the intensity of a job and won't want me.
The truth in this situation, which I think it is important to note, is that maybe I can't handle some jobs or situations...and it requires humility to accept that... however, it is also important to recognize that in some occupations my supposed "disability" can be a strength! So long as I am taking adequate care of my own needs and acknowledge and monitor my own needs and limits, I may be the exact person some of these patients/clients/etc. need. When they need someone to connect with them (not defying professional boundaries of course), I can do that. Sometimes I might have a special eye or ear for someone who is in need. I can note things that it might be helpful for other staff members to realize and to be sensitive or attentive to.
See, that's where the humility comes in.
To get to the title of this blog post: shame and doubt in these situations aren't humility, but what I have to recognize is that this situation does give me opportunities to exercise humility!
The best and most difficult way that I can allow my disabilities to enrich my humility is by accepting my limits: not just acknowledging they're there but actually accepting them.
This means having the maturity to tell others when something is too much for me.
This means accepting help from others (OUCH! It hurts to even say that!) even when that includes letter others so-to-speak "spoil me" in ways that other people might not be spoiled.
This means still loving myself.
This means embracing the fact that God may have given me a smaller (or at least "different") plot of land to till than other people all-the-while knowing that what God cares about is not doing great acts but rather doing small acts with great love. --Bringing Mother Teresa in there a bit;)--
Knowing that God love the little ones, the so-called "feeble," the hurting children.
For me, the fact that I can't do some things is a greater sacrifice than the fact that I can do some things. I tend to beat myself up for it and think I'm not worthy of that day off or that fresh breath of clean air or that walk in the park.
Why should I get to relax while they work? Shouldn't I earn my PhD first? Aren't I a financial burden? What do they mean they can do all those things and are busy and I say I can only do this much and I'm "busy"? -- These are all thoughts that go through my head regularly.
It's an opportunity to remember Mary and Martha. Jesus doesn't smile upon you when you wear yourself out to the point of breaking. In those moments, He cries along with you. Jesus smiles when you accept your little cross with humility (or rather than saying "little cross" perhaps I should say "invisible cross' in some cases?) and follow Him with love.
Jesus loves when you accept that you are small:
When you accept that you can, and when you accept that you can't.
He loves seeing those moments of humility in His children when they say, "I'm sorry, but I can't." He loves when you can still smile while working a part time job even while all of your friends seem to have two part time jobs or full time jobs. Jesus loves that! And I need to accept that to and remember that with a smile.
Because that is humility. Sometimes humility is in the acceptance of limits: of limits different from the limits of others. That's ok! That's good!
I have a fear that I'll live in sloth, but this is when I must remember humility.
DO WHAT I CAN,
AND
DON'T DO WHAT I CAN'T.
Jesus loves me just the way I am, and maybe you do to. Now hopefully I can learn to do the same.
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