after the joy

I felt like I was given a scond chance at life after I survived the car wreck. 

I had a compressed rebirth.  For awhile in the hospital, they had me in diapers, and I think of that as my "second infancy".  (Of course they also had me tied into bed for awhile, but that doesn’t fit the "re-birth" scenario, so I tend to ignore it)

Moving from the hospitals to the Foster Home, continuing the second birth scenario, was akin to young and mid-childhood, and is certainly not far fetched- I was still "new" to the world, again, and was re-learning all kinds of things that I had once known.  I worked with vocational Rehabilitation after I finished "Comunnity Re-Entry" with the hospital and tried various jobs to see how I’d do.  This was my second adolecence.

I moved from the Foster Home into my own apartment, something like a kid moving out of the home for the first time.  I was still working with VocRehab, going to the St. Vincent de Paul office training program, but they eventually told me not to come back, and that my idea of finishing college was a pipe-dream, that I wouldn’t be able to do it.  That was in late spring of 99.

Summer school at Portland State started that June, with me as a "new" student.  On purpose and with lots of thought, I avoided any of the programs that were to help the "disadvantaged".  I never considered myself to be "disadvantaged" or disabled and frankly, did not want to be seen as such.  I wanted to do it "my way", on my terms.

I had never failed a college class before this experience.  Since I was on a grant, I didn’t know whether or not I would lose money by dropping a class, so rather than drop and get out of two classes I was doing badly in, I took the F’s in those classes and said oh well.  In 8 terms out of 9 at Portland Community College, I had been on the honor roll at least, and twice on the President’s list.  My high grades made up for the F’s I got at PSU and did not drop my GPA too far, but I am not overly proud of failing classes.

On my profile page, if you’ve looked, you’ll see that I say I feel like I’ve been given a second chance at life, and that I think I’m doing well at it.  This is the public statement.  Privately, I think that perhaps I am not living anywhere near my potential, that I could be capable of so much more.

I ignore these thoughts for the most part as a symptom of my nature – the one that finds a touch of grey in every sunny sky.  I do not feel that I am living up to the second chance quite as fully as I could, but I also feel that I am waiting for…

For what? 

Waiting for my moment?  Waiting for my purpose to reveal itself?  Waiting.

I don’t know, but in the meantime, life goes on and the daily drudgery has to be dealt with, with the hope that this ain’t all there is.

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I took what you might call fiendish pleasure in sending my graduation announcement to St Vincent de Paul’s.  "You thought I couldn’t do it?  Whaddaya know? – I did".

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