You shouldn't be driving

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”

― Rainer Maria Rilke

 "You see this right here? This is where your visual field is reaching to and you need to be at least to here to drive legally in this state." The Dr.'s eyebrows were furrowed with her mask covering her mouth and nose as she looked up at me from the chart she was pointing at. The now familiar crease in-between her eyebrows seeming to soften just a bit. "But you probably saw this coming."

"Actually, no. I didn't see this coming. This is a surprise." I respond. "I've known what my visual field is and it has been the same for the last 5 years, at least. No one has ever told me to stop driving."

Eyebrows raised, the Occupational Therapist sitting across from me at the table said, "You're kidding me. Did they refer you to us?" 

"No," I replied. "I sought you all out so I could do future planning for my life to avoid this entire scenario." The OT dropped her eyes to the table silently shaking her head in disbelief. She seemed to be disappointed by the lack of referral and perhaps lack of communication regarding the severity of my visual field and it's implications. 

I was sitting in this small room they had led me too after a series of testing. After telling me I was below the legal limit to drive in the state of Michigan, the Doctor walked out of the room, leaving me and my hoard of children who were busy watching YouTube on the small screen of my phone. At this point of the entire appointment, they were distracted enough that I would consider them almost quiet. Two other bodies filled the room- presumably students, also wearing masks to cover their mouth and nose, matching the sterile whiteness of their lab coats-, standing awkwardly by the door, their presence sucking up the little space left in the room with myself, the OT and the huge stroller holding my 4 and 2 year old boys and my 11-year-old daughter sitting in a chair next to them, holding my phone for their viewing pleasure.

"I am so angry," tears streamed down my face as I spoke to a close friend 3 days after receiving this life-altering news. I had found myself in the situation that I had been trying to avoid. No one had told me. No one had said anything. For the last 5 years I have been attending graduate school, getting married, having babies, working and driving the whole time. And now, in the blink of an eye, I am supposed to stop driving. There were so many moving parts in my life and how am I supposed to function anyway if life isn't going to carry on as normal. How can I make sure my children can experience the joys of childhood? How are they getting to child care; to school? How am I getting to work, the grocery store, the coffee shop for a much needed mom break? Is my spouse now going to have to shoulder the work of 2 parents, driving everyone to and from their activities and responsibilities? The time, the effort, the energy, the mental stamina, the planning, the pieces needing to all line up and create the picture we called our family life. 

Something else hit deeper, though. Something personal and private. The image; the picture I had created; the kingdom I had built. I could see it crumbling like the seasonal gingerbread houses made with sticky frosting and too many gumdrops piled on the roof. The identity that I had carefully created to show myself competent and worthy of respect and of acknowledgement had begun to crack. I could feel myself frantically scrambling to pick up the pieces to shove them back into place only to see another piece slide off. I feel my heart beating fast and heavy and the tears are hot in my eyes. My skin in tingling as if the blood in my veins are moving with frantic energy to keep up with influx of input. I am thinking to myself,  "What if they find out? What if the kingdom falls and they all see the truth of who I really am? Will this be the end of any semblance of dignity that I have- any lingering self-worth. Am I now the poor and needy adult who can't do a thing for herself? Always asking for a handout and always needing a ride? The inconvenient friend that doesn't get invited because she won't have a way to get there and "I don't want to feel guilty about not wanting to give her a ride and bring her home?" Am I the one who will be pulled aside by her boss to have the "talk" about how this might not be the best job for her anymore and I need to be let go? Will I be forced to earn minimum wage and sequentially lose my house and the life I have built for us? Will I be forced to live dependent on the government, using up the tax money of my friends and family? Will I be able to provide opportunities for my kids? I won't be able to take them to swim lessons, camp, soccer practice, the beach, on road trips... 

I could feel my heavy heart, sinking into my gut. I felt paralyzed with uncertainty and a new burden to navigate this life-altering change in my world. Already I felt the shame of having to tell my boss I needed to change my schedule due to not being able to drive. Already I felt the heat on my neck thinking about when mom-peers realized how dependent I was, not being able to drop off my kids or meet up for a random play date. 

Where does it go from here? Can I still love and accept myself in this place? Will I ever regain my confidence? Will I still receive respect from my professional colleagues? Do I still have worth? Do I still bring value to my work, my family, to my community? 

And here I am. In a place of pain with no clear answer and walking on unstable, rocky surfaces that threaten my balance and sense of security with every tentative step. The heartbreaking realization that the state that I am in is that and nothing more and nothing less. The state that I am in is a loss that could not be given back. I can not fix it.