The
other day I came across the following quote “Don’t waste your time
looking back on what you’ve lost. Move on, for life is not meant to be
traveled backwards” on the social network site Facebook. It struck a
cord with me, as the last few months I've been doubting myself, and
second guessing everything; from my attempt in writing fiction, to where
I’m going with my life. For the briefest of moments I was tempted to
throw in the towel, pack my toys and become that “poor little cripple”
that society expected of someone like me.
After
all, I have felt like I’ve hit a brick wall after a decade of tertiary
study, where the next step of being gainfully employed seemed to have
eluded me since even before graduating with a Masters in Social and
Community Work. It just stalled. Regardless how many job applications I
sent out locally, nationally and even far afield as Australia and the
United Kingdom, and how many avenues# I approached to gain employment,
it just never eventuated.
For a while I started wondering if it was me that’s unemployable. Maybe I had a sucky personality?
Or maybe, just maybe, I looked funny or had bad body odour?
Okay,
I understand that we’re experiencing a bit of a economic topsy-tervy,
and that jobs are scarce. But I had a social work degree, and a Masters
to boot, for crying out loud. Not only that, people were telling me that
I’ll be snatched up like nobody’s business by every social service
provider. Figuring that this would be the case, I endeavoured to network
with fellow graduates and veteran practitioners alike. Then I graduated
in May of 2010 and things just -- well -- they just came to a grinding
halt.
The
truth is, it wasn’t just me in this situation. I knew of another
disabled person who had graduated with a teaching degree, and she too
found things come to a grinding halt.
Oddly
enough, she went through the same questioning cycle of self doubt. The
truth however is different. It wasn’t because of me that I couldn’t find
a job, and still can’t by yesterday’s letter all the way from Auckland
telling me that despite being thoroughly impressed with my resume
they’ll be hiring someone else. It is just the luck of the draw. Some of
us get the job, and others don’t. Add to it all that other stuff, like
the Recession and peoples kneejerk reactions to seeing a person with a
disability, and you’ve got yourself a nice recipe for remaining
unemployed.
Admittedly,
that can suck big time, as being gainfully employed meant being a
contributing member of society and the like. In turn, being the opposite
meant you were a useless twat with a lazy bone the length of the
Mississippi River. That is how I felt society view the two. Besides,
it’s not as if I was unwilling to work. I was. Am still, honest. Really
I am. Okay, it may require a little bit of creative thinking on how to
have me answer the phone, but technology has advanced so much that a
solution to the “how” would be easily found.
Then
I started thinking that I ought to retrain, as I wasn’t obviously cut
out for social work, regardless to what I have been told. Maybe I
should’ve been an electrical engineer like my parents, or an accountant
turned business mogul like my brother. Clown college unfortunately has
no campus in Dunedin, but I did see several in America after googling it
one day. For a while, I even contemplated becoming a counselor. Still
might down the line, but it won’t be via a university qualification.
Then again, one shouldn’t really say they won’t do something, as it
tends to be a self fulfilling prophesy. So let me amend: becoming a
counselor via means of a university qualification is one possible path
to take.
For
a while I wanted to go elsewhere. Anywhere was good, as long as there
will be an opportunity of employment and the hurdles present would be
not so much. Australia seemed like a good place to go to, and I had
friends there too to boot who would help me out. Family too. Then there
was the idea of going to England, as have friends and family there.
Ditto for South Africa.
But
then I came to accept that running off to all those places wouldn’t
solve anything. Oh, for sure there would be the whole novelty of moving
to another place going on, and there’ll be the welcome distraction of
getting to know my new surroundings, get to know people and all that
jazz. Thing is, the idea of moving would be akin to applying a band aide
of sorts to my problem, a temporary fix at best. Who is to say I would
have ended up in a worse off situation. No, there was no point in
running away. It was time to face things.
Correction, it is time to face it.
