When I write, I try to be honest and realistic, but also ultimately
to convey hope and a sense of possibility.
That's really how I try to approach living with invisible disorders. I don't believe a positive attitude causes
miraculous healing, but I DO believe a hopeful attitude helps. There's a ton of research about health and
attitude, but regardless of research, I know that feeling hopeful, even
optimistic helps me cope. That said, I
don't think you can get to the other side of feeling down or angry or whatever,
if you don't let yourself feel all of that; that's definitely how it is for
me. I feel like the trick is not to hold
on to, get really stuck in those hard, painful stretches. I have to let myself feel, and then I can let
it go. Sometimes it takes a conscious
effort, but for me letting go needs to happen. After I move through and let go of all the
tough stuff, I step back and take a look at where I am.
Once I let go, I can think more clearly, see where I am,
and if there is anything positive to hold on to. I sent an e-mail to my parents recently
talking about Feldenkrais, and what it's done for me. I still don't completely understand how
Feldenkrais works; I certainly can't do on a neuromuscular level what Joyce
does for me. But I think I finally get
some of the basic principles, and I know it works and is helping me. All my small steps really do add up, just
like toddlers learning to walk. Dr. Glad
always says that baseball players never have perfect batting averages, and if
the rest of us could adopt those same expectations, we'd be a lot better
off. I also was messaging a new and
wonderful FB friend who is really suffering, and wished I could help her. It made me realize that even with all the
difficulties, real though they are, I have to really pay attention to what I
can do.
When I don't feel good or I'm frustrated, I tend to jump
to worst case scenario conclusions way too easily, as I think a lot of people
do. This tends to head me down a road of
worry and anxiety. As I often remind my
daughters, life is not black and white, one extreme or the other. Even though my situation is not a best case
scenario, that doesn't necessarily mean it's a worst case scenario either. There is a middle ground. In my middle ground there is stuff I can
do. I'm not talking about what I'm
grateful for, although that's important.
I'm talking about giving myself credit for what I CAN do, for what is a
direct result of the work I do, the effort I put into rehab.
So here is some of my "I can do it" list:
My body recovers now from working really hard - a
definite result of doing rehab.
I am physically able to do basic cooking. This results in healthy meals, which adds so
much to my well-being and that of my family.
I can write this blog - this is a big deal for me.
I can listen to articles online, and yes, I need to use
Google Translate, but being able to process the info is a big plus.
I'm able to listen to more audio books than I used
to.
I can read some of the Sunday Comics.
I can read the headlines and small bits of articles from
part of our local paper so I know the basics of what's going on in my own back
yard.
I'm able to play my flute, and listen to music.
I can walk our dog with my daughter, hold the leash
myself, and talk with her while we walk.
This is huge.
I can watch a movie on our smaller screen TV, with an
intermission.
I'm able to do some basic housework in addition to
cooking. An example of viewing this
positively instead of negatively is that I'm choosing to think about the
housework I CAN do, not the tasks I need our cleaning service to do.
I was able to celebrate Chanukah with Ron and Leena and
Cara. This meant singing two short songs
with them, and not having trouble with the sound of my own singing resonating
in my head.
I'm thinking about what I will do when Ron and the girls
go to the Field Museum. Not just the
regular stuff, but about what I can do - with writing or music - that I'll
enjoy. Regular stuff is necessary and
fills up time, and I'm glad there's regular stuff on my "I can do it"
list. I've said before and I still
believe that it's good to be fundamentally functional, but no one wants to fill
time with the basics, all the time.
Though not an accomplishment, it's worth noting that I do
feel fortunate to live in an area where the medical care that I need is
available to me. Also that I have
health insurance and financial support to cover all the expenses. My situation would otherwise be vastly
different. I truly feel for those who
struggle with these two pieces. Knowing
what you need, but not having access and/or not being able to cover the costs
is terrible.
It's easy, very easy, for me to dwell on my limitations, what
I still need to work on. I don't know, maybe
it's human nature to notice what you're not happy with, what needs to be
improved upon. In our incredibly fast
paced world in which change seems to happen at warp speed, it's hard not to
compare myself, my life, to others, whoever the others may be. People like me, who are working to regain their
health in some way, have to be careful who we compare ourselves to. Everyone, I think, measures and sometimes
judges their personal success, individual accomplishments. It's easy to forget
that success can be measured in so many ways.
I remind myself that for me it's about the effort and progress I make, and
I know my daughters have, and continue to learn from me on my journey. I'm going to mentally hold on to my list of
what I can do, and keep it close at hand.
For me, and anyone in a similar situation, success isn't about speed, it's
about continuing to add to my "I can do it" list.
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