Fear and Hope

Some days, I'm really normal. Strangely enough, today started that way. Some days, I start out with an almost normal gait, and I walk short distances just like any other person. Today, I started out that way.  Some days, I feel perhaps we'll be OK. Today, I felt that way. Some days, the fortune cookie is spot on and I can expect a big change for the better in my future.

Today started on Friday though. I saw the ad posted on a job website during my lunch break at free work. The job coach called me about a job and asked me to go into her office. I declined and told her to email the details to me. She hates that, since she thinks I'm not taking her seriously, which frankly, I'm not. Since I'm being frank, I didn't want her even in the same time zone when I prepared that application to go out. It was a job I wanted. The kind of job that if I were still living on our former, comfortable, middle-class income, I would still want it so dearly I could cry. The kind of job that makes my heart skip a beat. I wanted it.

I waited. Fear and hope mingled together and I wanted to jump up and down, or crawl into a den and hide. I mentioned it to my husband, but even then I downplayed my feelings. Saturday, I wrote the cover letter and checked the resume. I waited. Finally, I submitted the application and said a little prayer. It would be waiting for Monday morning, if it made it through an application tracking system. Please let me win this round of "buzzword bingo." Then, the emails started. Not just the automatic replies, but a real person. We set up a phone interview.

I adore phone interviews. They are a chance to avoid face-to-face, which is nice when you've been told that you just don't have the face for a job. Or when the interview is more about your inabilities that have very little to do with your abilities.You learn to appreciate being judged on the words that fall out of your mouth.

An invitation to meet in person. A short test on style. A day of normalcy. An interview that felt less judgmental and more conversational. Always the hope and fear growing and mingling, until I admit to my husband that I want this. The high of feeling OK still coursing through me, I celebrate with a bit of hope, maybe even a tiny nod toward joy. And then the phone call--the call that terrifies and excites, and unleashes so many questions, worries and hopes. 

By the end of the day I'm back to my trusty crutches, worn down by the agony in my knee. But for a day--for such an important day--I didn't lose to the disability. I beat it.