What Ifs

I have been pondering on the words “What If?” on and off all day. A variant of the theme for me is, “What would be different if (fill in the blank)?” And this topic came to mind because of my blog entry yesterday. What would I be doing for volunteer work now if I didn’t have this disability? Followed by the question, would I be doing volunteer work at all?

I wonder if everyone asks themselves these kinds of questions as much as I do. I hope not, because sometimes it does feel depressing. You feel like you are focusing on your losses. It must be part of my personality, though I wouldn’t call myself depressed exactly. I don’t feel sorry for myself either. Still, I often do wonder how my life would have been different if I hadn’t been shot, the question is never far from my mind.

I imagine that most people at some point in their lives ask What If questions. What if I had taken that job in Toledo? What if I married my first love? What if I had pushed myself to finish college? You generally don’t ask, What if I had different parents? Or what if I had been born 10 years earlier? Well, once in a while I do ask these things, but not with the same feeling behind them. The latter group are curiosity type questions, perhaps with a little annoyance with an arrangement you are used to, but that’s not ideal. The former group have to do with consequences of your own decisions and actions.

Oh, I have quite a few of the What Ifs about my own decisions, for I made a few questionable choices in my life, and even some that were decidedly mistakes. What if I had made an effort and saved my first marriage? What if I had followed that one lover back in college? What if I had the courage to live alone for a while? What if I had finished my psych PhD? All of these were my own decisions then, influenced by my own psychological makeup of the time, of course, but my own decisions all the same.

How do I handle the other questions though, related to the act forced upon me, not of my choosing – What if I hadn’t been shot? What if I hadn’t become a paraplegic? How would that have affected my education, love life, family, career? I suspect things would be quite different. This is not the same as saying it would have been better or even easier, but definitely different. Who knows, I might have been a brilliant scientist, but with no kids. Or I might have gotten mixed up with drugs and alcohol, like an un-named family member of mine. Or perhaps I would have travelled to India and stayed there. I’ll never know. It’s possible I’d have made the same choices even if I hadn’t had a disability!

The problem with these questions, isn’t a lack of answers. The problem is that being shot wasn’t my choosing. Is this how victims of violent crime feel in general? Robbed of something, deprived of something? Damaged? Is it the violence that generates this thinking, or the disability itself?

I have had a good life. I’ve been lucky really. I live well now, with someone I love. I enjoyed raising my kids, being a stay-at-home mom and I think they’ve turned out ok. No regrets. But this doesn’t stop me from feeling like I’d rather pet the kitties than do paperwork, and wonder whether I’d be doing either if were walking.