Spring is here and it shows

I've had a stressful couple of weeks. My Big Project that I plan to announce soon seemed to be coming apart. The original excitement of people who decided to join me seems to be dying down. The longer we wait the further we are from what we planned. The DC Bar gave me a month to produce evidence to their satisfaction that I have Cerebral Palsy and use a wheelchair. I was able to get a doctor to assist me in that, but with a deadline a week away, I still don't have a note to send off and I'm very nervous. I've had a lot of things happen to me but never did anyone claim that I'm not "disabled enough". I have videos, articles written about me, some speaking engagement but a scarce medical file. I've only lived in this country for nine years, never treated for anything serious I'm still trying to look up the documents from the university outlining my accommodations just to have a back up, but I guess I lost it three apartments ago. Over the Eastern weekend I was working on the application to the Leadership Academy- a new program within the Florida Bar to promote professionalism, integrity and diversity. 40 young attorneys will be picked every year and have their skills brought to a new level. I felt stressed, pulled in multiple direction. The cold weather made it worse. Getting out of bed was not an exciting perspective at all. I felt heavy, tense and tired. The weight of all my problems seemed to press down on  my wheelchair. But today was a wonderful day. I figured I need to clear my head and change perspective. I've contacted the Florida Bar to make sure that they got all my documents and from that point on a burden was lifted. I've decided to go for a walk. It was warm and sunny. You could smell Spring in the air. I was not even nervous when I was crossing one of the Gainesville's busiest street. The sun was out, trees and plants were vibrantly green. And I remembered how much fun I would have making it a weekly effort to go downtown. The fun I used to have with my friends. The restaurants and little venues I would go into and explore, some that are no longer around. And I thought about how much I grew to like this place, Gainesville, how much it became mine over the years. And then I wanted to celebrate spring with having a nice dinner. I felt joy. I felt so content that I didn't even mind that I left the money I've set aside for drinks at home. I've had scallops, because it's been a while and I did go for a dessert  - their new choco flan. I was celebrating with absolutely nothing in particular to celebrate and I decided to spend the night at karaoke while checking out other places. The smell of the season I just can't explain. Winter is over, Spring is here and it shows.

Nobody's perfect

There's a scene that I see from time to time riding the Gainesville bus system. A middle aged, I assume homeless man tries to board carrying a few plastic trash bags with him. His shoes are falling apart, the bags seem heavy and stuffed. The drivers often tell him that they are not allowed to take him unless he leaves them behind. But sometimes they take pity on him and let him get on, even getting the wheelchair lift out him so it'd be easier for him to take his belongings. I've heard that he collects  actual trash. People have seen roaches coming out of the bags he carries. When he is told to throw them out not much later he replaces them with a different set. Just as stuffed and as heavy as the ones before. If you've lived in Gainesville long enough you probably know him by name. And you get used to seeing him as he says hello passing by. You never know when and where he's going to pop up next, as I've seen him trying to get on buses going in all directions. He is quite a fixture and he likes to talk to random students he meets on the bus. Most of the time they respond, engage in conversations, probably curious who this strange person might be. Where's the story in this you might say?  The uplifting part is that most of the riders and respectful, kind and softspoken when talking to him. They even do small things for him like call someone on their phone when he asks. He seems and is harmless, but his attire and yes, smell is off-putting to some. Many are kind enough not to notice, but on one occasion I saw a girl cry as soon as he got off the bus. They were having a nice conversation. She was polite, he wanted to know as always, what she was in school for and told one of her stories. But then he left. As soon and she started to cried I turned to her and asked what was wrong. She explained that as much as she wanted to focus on him as a person, his needs, stories and problems, she couldn't get pass the way he smelled. She was very disappointed with herself, that she couldn't ignore it completely. Sadden, angry and surprised by her own reaction she started to cry. I guess she felt like a failure, because she couldn't separate the body from the spirit. Although we are told that beauty is on the inside and the outside doesn't make a man she couldn't bring herself to do it. She wasn't disrespectful- but she wanted to be better than all of those that would judge him. For all that we are told about loving others unconditionally, helping those in need, she couldn't unconditionally accept him, because of something as trivial as smell. I told her she was being too hard on herself. I thought it was amazing that she would even have an afterthought like this, but we really can't help how we react to certain things. It doesn't make us bad people. Yes, it's good to have an ideal in our head about how we are going to be relating to other people. But we are not perfect. And we don't control how we feel. Perhaps sometimes our own behavior surprises us. Maybe we don't know ourselves the way we did. Maybe how we see ourselves doesn't always match how others do and the image in our head is different from what we project.  I think we all like to think of ourselves as most open, most accepting, most giving, most loving. We'd like to think of ourselves as evolved. But we are all flawed. And I think part of the process of learning who you are comes from accepting that you are only human. Humans make mistakes.

Context

We were lucky. Our Warsaw apartment ended up being in a building with an elevator. No steps leading up to the front door and relatively close to the ground floor. We were lucky, because my parents had absolutely no say in the matter. During communism, housing was assigned based on the size of the family. Millions of families waited for many years to get their own four walls. And they were happy to get it, whatever it was. I remember hearing that my mom originally didn't like the neighborhood. It was new, everything was getting built and for quite a while it didn't look like much. My mom was used to the pace and the noise of downtown. The people, the cars, the theatres, the cafes she grew up there. From what I understand the apartment buildings were new and getting a three room unit was mostly unheard of, but they were in the middle of nowhere and my mom missed her life. I guess she didn't even think how much having a functioning elevator will become a factor when she had me. I decided to bring it up for a reason. Not too long ago I received a response on Twitter. I guess I mentioned kids with disabilities that were stuck in their apartments on the top floor with no elevator and how in Poland it wasn't uncommon or unheard of. The message was a simple question. How is it that they couldn't leave. And I understood I've made I mistake. I didn't communicate the problem well.  When I write a piece I sometimes skip a step. Sometimes I assume that certain issues are clear or self explanatory. But I forget that not everyone comes from a background similar to mine or at least can easily figure it out. But I failed to provide perspective. These days in Poland you can buy any real estate of your choosing, provided you have the money for it. But not 30 years ago. Back then you were lucky if you got an apartment of any kind, anywhere, and you'd thank your lucky stars when the wait was over. Decades later some of the same people would still be living next to each other. Some richer, some poorer, some doing better than others, some renovating, remodeling and investing a lot into making their house as pretty and comfortable as they could lived few doors down from the heavy drinkers, the excluded and the unemployed. All under one roof. All under one building. And many never moved. Some because they could never afford it, others because they never had the need or they invested too much into the place to let it go. Every now and then I read an article in a Polish newspaper. It's usually about a young man and a woman who live on a top floor of a building just like ours.  They rarely leave the house because they don't walk and are to heavy to be carried 12 floors down every day. They didn't choose their apartment, but it became a barrier that they could never defeat. To a person who walks it must me odd how big of a deal a flight of stairs can become. A difference between going to school and being home schooled. Between being able to go out and play, to the store, to the theatre, the post office and being stuck. They didn't choose it, likely it was chosen for their parents. That's how it worked- the state enjoyed the role of power to provide anything to anyone. Not that it was free, but everyone depended on it. We were lucky because back in the day in Poland stairs were common.   My aunts and grandmother's apartments had nothing but stairs, at least half a flight to the half floor. If my mom had her wish we would have ended up struggling every day. How about the 3 step, 5 step entrances, that you never  sign up for but many people still end up with?  Yes, the elevator wasn't perfect. It would be out of service a lot, get stuck between floors and a few times some kids I imagine, set it on fire . The door was heavy, yet what mattered was we had an elevator (most of the time) which was more than a lot other families with disabilities could say.  Years go by and you don't hear much about it.  And then you read an article in a cheap sensationalist tone. Oddly enough it's always written to make you feel sorry for the person and not ask how silly it is that they have to deal with those absurd conditions to begin with and how little it takes to improve someone's life                                                                    

Cold

I woke up yesterday with a scratchy throat. My bedroom felt incredibly cold and all I wanted to do is grab some extra covers and go back to sleep. But I had a meeting I needed to get to and with no one to make me hot soup and nurse me to health I rolled out of bed. It sucks being a grown up sometimes.  Winter is back in Florida, with temperatures going as low as 0 C. It is not just cold outside. It's chilly and windy. As I was getting lunch across the street today and the cold seemed to have been getting to every fibre of my body I kept asking myself why I was out. But I had places to be and things to do and something as simple as weather was not about to  get in my way. Part of the reason I like Florida so much is that most of the time all I need to wear is as simple as t-shirt, jeans and shoes. Putting on bulky jackets, sweatshirts and layers make it much harder for me to move around in a wheelchair. I feel heavier and less mobile. I need to make sure no piece of clothing get caught somewhere or dirty from my wheels. And as I'm sitting down all the time I need to make sure I'm evenly covered and no skin i showing. It's harder than you might think from this position. I'm not a homebody. It's difficult for me to not be able to go out and socialize and on Tuesday and Thursday not to be able to grab a drink with some of Gainesville's it crowd. Between all the stress and all the delays of my new, exciting secret project I really need to maintain my routines and hold on to some me-time. But when the wind feels like it will it blow you off the sidewalk, my bed feels like the most enchanting place on the planet where I can hide with a cup of cocoa. I wish I could tell you that something amazing has happened this week. Between the things I really can't talk about prematurely and all the things I have to do, my day to day chores and tasks, I've been mostly keeping warm. Some days are better than others, but I have high hopes for Spring. And I don't mean only the weather.

Non lawyers

" Can you like my Facebook profile?- said a message I got a few months ago- "I've decided to pursue a career in comedy instead of law". And it got me thinking: A law degree is good to have- we were told during our first year orientation dinner- Even if you decide not to practice. Many see it as a source of recognition and prestige - something people respect and respond to me. But it's an education. A time consuming, ultra expensive endeavor, that requires far too much dedication and too great of an investment to be something you only keep in your back pocket. Americans end up tens of thousands of dollars in debt just to get it, with loans that paid for their lifestyle through their undergrad days still hanging over their heads. Foreigners and non-Floridians pay as much as three times more for the experience of going to law school. The question always remains: was it worth it. I'm not sure how many of my friends actually practice law. Most of them are American, bright, motivated, able-bodied and eager. And yet they struggle. Out of the friends who practice, I'm not certain how many maintain a regular office. I know a few who, like myself, grab a client here and there, occasionally.  But this is no way to have a career or to plan a life. What really struck me is when I attended the ethics mandatory workshop in Tallahassee was how many people do anything but practice law for a living. Some because they're still trying to get their foot through the door, some because they're still waiting for the door to even crack open for them, others because they discovered they have no to very little interest in law. Few write books with professors, volunteering in hopes of recognition. Few give their time helping others in hope of getting experience. So many people frustrated and lost, hoping for their moment to come. To what end? I have the benefit of going through law school in America twice. While my recently graduated friend have not been practicing for too long, my other class has been at it for a bit longer. While the younger ones are frustrated with no opportunities to get started, the older ones often tell me that they are not happy with how and what they do, how their days and tasks look like and would much rather do something with more purpose and meaning. Tired and burned out.  Part of it is that what we think our life would turn out, what our strengths and weaknesses are and what actually happens are completely different things. I have a friend who was convinced he's meant to ne a trial attorney when he first started. Now he does taxes. I have another friend who never sat for the bar exam. After school he decided simply that he doesn't need it. A different friend became a policeman and put the exam on hold for I want to say five years. It doesn't stop to amaze me how many started off thinking they really don't want to practice law. And good for them. Florida Bar has  statistics that they use as cautionary tales for young attorneys. Suicide rates for the profession are much higher than the general population. Depression is common. Many people don't see purpose in their work or any future for themselves. But these are just numbers. Statistics. My friends are real people. And amazing ones I might add doing things that makes them happy. I have a friend who's a California DJ and wouldn't imagine a day behind a desk. I have a different friend who makes and sells a cottage cheese substitute for organic food outlets. You can see her in her apron at a local farmer's market on Wednesday. Perhaps one day she will be a lawyer again, she says. But not today. And I understand it. What is the point of  going into something if it doesn't make you happy? What is the point of doing law if not to benefit other people. A lesson learned perhaps sixty thousand dollars too late?

The law office

There I was- waiting for my ten o'clock appointment with a Very Prominent Gainesville attorney to tell him about my Very Important Gainesville project and see if he would be willing to help me with it. He was on the phone, so the receptionist asked me to make myself comfortable in the conference room. For a few minutes, I was by myself looking around. The long table, the cherry wooden bookshelves on every wall. A quite space. A safe place. Just me and my thoughts. It didn't look like much from the outside, we live in a small town after all, just a simple one-story building away from a busy street. But if I closed my eyes, I could have imagine it to be a Manhattan law office. Everything inside screamed tradition and competence. And I thought about what it must be like to practice law for twenty, thirty years, to have that kind f experience and respect. My lawyer friends rarely have physical offices anymore. The  cell phone, the laptop, the Starbucks is our office. And law is something that we do, not something that we are. What it must be like to dedicate yourself to your career, jump both feet in. And I could imagine myself being in an office like that one day. Perhaps in a big city. The books. Nobody uses books to research cases anymore. It's faster, it's easier. But there's a lot to be said for reading things that are printed. Our legal education didn't really go into much detail on how to use an actual library to do the work, that's why back in school I've taken an extra class on advanced legal research. The professor made us work hard, but she taught us something as well. And gave us more respect for them and the profession. I wanted to be better about finding things traditionally   I thought one day I may need it. There is something about a wall full of books that commands respect. It's one of those things you see in movies and TV shows about attorneys. Always reading, always bettering themselves. I was really caught in that moment. I didn't even mind the harsh reality of that law firm. As much as I could imagine myself in that place I could never work there. I was fighting two set of double doors, heavy doors I might add just to get in. Tight squeeze. Then, all through the lobby and throughout the room, my wheels were sinking in a very deep carpet. This wasn't a place I could easily move around in. Everything else about it reminded me about my wheelchair and limited liability. But the conference room reminded me that I'm an attorney. One made me focus on things I can't do, the other on all the things that I can.  And will.

Hopeless

People who read my blog often get the impression, that things as they happen to me affect me in some profound fashion. Sometimes that's the case, but more often than not I simply can't afford on every single thing that happens to me, because things happen to me every day. I reflect on some of them here, mostly so you can get an idea what it's like to be me. How my disability tends to complicate my life, but then I overcome it. How it pushes me, puts me in new situations, but also teaches me new things. About me, about others, about how to change what I can and want to and accept what I can't. Defying some limitations, while coming to terms with other. Consider last Wednesday. I was coming from a meeting with a Very Prominent Gainesville Attorney discussing a Very Important Idea I cannot yet discuss. I was very tired as I had to be there in the morning, but still on cloud nine. The world was my oyster. I took a bus to go midtown, carry on with my day. I needed to grab lunch, I had things to do and people to meet before the evening movie on campus. And then the unexpected happened. As I was getting ready to roll off the wheelchair ramp I lost the grip of my wheels. My hands became stiff and I panicked. As my chair came at an angle it got stuck on the side of the ramp. I needed to straighten it up to go  down, but it wasn't moving. The bus driver was on a schedule, the patrons were staring, everybody was waiting for me to get off the bus. I tried to pull myself back up  by the grab bars on the door to maneuver my front wheels. As I did, the chair lost balance and flipped. So here I was, on my back, with my legs stuck in the chair, not really sure how to proceed. I was on a ramp- no room to rollover or move my chair out of the way. The commotion around me made me panic even more. I was tense, I was stuck, I was on a bus ramp on my back and the bus was on a schedule. It was the driver who reacted swiftly and professionally. He pulled the chair from under me allowing me to move. He then grabbed be my my legs and a woman who sat in the front raw grabbed me under my arms. At this point, coming from a meeting that gave me all this positive energy, I was hopeless. And I was embarrassed. Mot only for being in this position, not only because I relied on others but also for creating all this inconvenience, a situation in which they had to help. "Thank you. I'm so sorry. I'm so embarrassed- I said. Don't be- she replied- we are here to help one another. I could have spent days dwelling on the emotion, but I have long accepted that sometimes things just happen. I learn from them, yes, but at some point I just need to move on. Not focus on every little thing. I still had places and people to meet that day, that needed my attention instead. In the longer perspective I was left with a good feeling... What a nice woman. What a great philosophy.