For Everything There is a Season

"In order to write about life, first you must live it." ~ Ernest Hemingway

Category: disability (Page 1 of 2)

Being Visible With An Invisible Illness

September 10, 2014 / / 2 Comments

This week is National Invisible Awareness Week and I figure it is as good a time as any to get back to writing since apparently, my last post was a month ago. I have no good excuses. Life has been busy, and I have been enjoying living it.

I won’t get into all the details about why I have been busy; some of it has been simply having fun and some of it has been being there for other people or personal obligations. Whatever the reason, the past week or two has been more of a struggle physically than I am comfortable with. That’s the thing about an invisible awareness: I struggle every single day, almost no exceptions. I have done a pretty good job at working those struggles into my life and accepting them, but the problem with that is, I appear completely fine most of the time on the outside. When in actuality, my body is falling apart bit by bit on the inside.

It’s a double-edged sword for most of living with an invisible illness. For example, I do not want to be known as or come across as a “sick person”. I try to take care not to complain too much on social media and I make a very noble effort to not cancel out on plans when I am not feeling well. However the problem with this is that people forget that I do have limitations. Because I am trying so hard to make the life I do have count for something and to not waste too many of my days, I even forget that I have limitations.

As I have written about previously, I went back to work last Spring in an attempt to get back into the nursing profession. I work in a school as a substitute school nurse and had the summer off. Once I am back to work, I absolutely have to back off on all non-work activities and watch my stress in order to avoid a flare-up in my symptoms. My experience with working thus far is that for every day I work, I need at least two days to recover. Between the joint pain, muscle pain, eye issues, fatigue, and brain fog, sometimes one day of work feels like three or four days. And to be honest, it is worth it. I enjoy being back to work that much.

That is a huge reason why I have been so busy lately; because I knew I would likely be getting called soon to go into work and I wanted to do some quality living before that happened. Not that I don’t enjoy myself the rest of the year but like I said, it needs to more limited and thought out.

So this past weekend, I knew I wasn’t doing all that great; the fatigue was overwhelming, to the point where I would cry in the car on the way home. And the fatigue felt much worse than what I’m used to and I knew something wasn’t right. But, I followed through with my commitments, had some fun along the way, and sure enough, all hell broke loose: migraines, sinus pain, ear pain, joint pain, and chills. I forced myself to go to my water aerobics class Monday morning and almost passed out. I started treating myself with decongestants, acupuncture and a neti-pot, with some relief, until my asthma acted up the worst it has in years, on Tuesday night. Two times using my rescue inhaler and I knew I was doctor bound first thing this morning.

What is wrong with me in itself is not a big deal. I have something viral (if I am not better by Friday, I go on antibiotics) that is affecting my sinuses and subsequently, my lungs, which were not moving as much air as they should be. Any type of infection always flares up my autoimmune symptoms, especially the fatigue, and it gets more complicated for me than for many other people. A steroid nasal spray and a steroid inhaler should hopefully fix me up quick. I am really hoping to stay off oral steroids as I just passed the six month mark of being off them and let me tell you, that is a rare occasion indeed. Granted, my life might be easier on them, but since I have already started to develop some minor long-term complications from them, they are a last resort.

To be honest, I wasn’t being as careful as I should have been. Not just because of my schedule, but because this time of year is ragweed season and I have a severe allergy. Despite my symptoms, I was depending on one allergy supplement (which apparently wasn’t managing things) and allergy shots, and hence the sinus/lung issues emerged. But isn’t that almost a good thing in a way? Instead of spending every day thinking, worrying, and dealing with every little physical symptom that crossed my path, me and my invisible illness were taking advantage of opportunities in a very visible world.

There is something very important I have learned from all this. Nope, it’s not about balancing your life with a chronic illness. Believe it or not, I already learned that lesson a while ago, even if I don’t get it right some of the time. I have learned that since I have to live with this illness the rest of my life, and most likely will not see a cure in my lifetime, that I have to make sure to do this one thing:

I have to live my life.
Now.

I have to take advantage of all the days where I can get out of bed more easily. I have to stop worrying about when the next big autoimmune crisis will come. I have to stop worrying about how clean my house is, especially when there is some better way to spend my precious energy. While I cannot ignore my illness, it is important for me to sometimes act “as if”…act as if I am not sick…act as if I can do anything. Because honestly, sometimes I think having this illness is more mental than physical. I see that in myself and I see it with others who battle this illness every day.

So if you are reading this and you do have some type of chronic illness, try to be more visible, Do something, anything. Educate people around you about your illness. Sit in a library and read a book rather than by yourself at home. Talk to people while you are waiting in line at the Social Security office. Take a risk and go away from home overnight without ruminating over all the “what ifs” that can happen.

If you are reading this and you do not have some type of chronic illness or health issue, I will admit, I am a bit jealous. I get especially jealous of people who are healthy physically and mentally and then don’t take advantage of their good fortune. Stop wasting time over the drama around you. Get outside. Volunteer to help those less fortunate.

Live!

To Scoot Or Not To Scoot, That Is The Question

September 4, 2013 / / 7 Comments

I have had a difficult decision to make ever since my husband and I booked our honeymoon to Disney; which is in less than three weeks. To the average person it may not seem like a big deal but to me, it has been this gut wrenching decision that has taken me months to make and come to terms with. The decision I was struggling over was whether or not to rent a scooter to use during the eight days we are down in Florida at Disneyworld.

Most people I have talked to regarding this decision do not understand why I would even consider NOT renting a scooter considering the physical issues I have with arthritis, fatigue, and the difficulty I have with extreme heat and sun. To them, it seems like a no-brainer. And in some aspects it is a no-brainer. If you Google “scooters” and “Disney”, you will see that the use of scooters in Disney is rampant. A whole other topic for another day. It’s not like I would be doing anything unusual. Rent the scooter and just use it. Disney is huge. Why stress out over it?

I have never used an assistive device during all these years that I have battled extreme pain and fatigue. Not once. I have been on vacations and day trips. I have struggled at times to even get through a short shopping list at Stop and Shop where by the way, they do have scooters. I am not against scooters, wheelchairs, canes, walkers, or any other assistive devices. I know people who need them and use them. But I do not use them.

It is not because I do not physically qualify to use something like this at times because anyone who knows me knows that I certainly have had periods of time over the past five plus years where an assistive device would have been most helpful; especially a scooter. At first I thought it was just a pride thing or that I was worried what people would think when they looked at me using a scooter. I have this invisible illness which means that I typically look well on the outside and feel horrible on the inside. But then I realized that it is so much more than that. My desire and determination to intermittently not use an assistive device is due to one emotion and one reason: fear. I am scared to death.

I am scared to death that this autoimmune illness I have will progress. That someday I will be dependent on an assistive device to be able to go out into the world or even to function in my own home. I am scared to death because I have had so many different body systems affected by this illness that someday, it will get the better of me. I fear that I will end up in kidney failure or with neurological impairment that will prevent me from walking. I fear that I will be one of the Sjogren’s patients who develops Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Or pulmonary hypertension. Or end-stage liver disease. These are not unrealistic fears. Although not as common as some of the other Sjogren’s symptoms, they do happen. People do die. So to me, needing to use a scooter at Disney feels like I am giving in to my illness.

To be honest, this position I have taken for myself about using assistive devices has served me well over the past several years. Has it caused me more pain? Sure. Has it sometimes limited what I can go out in the world and do? I don’t think so. But I do believe with my whole heart that pushing myself in terms of my mobility has made a positive impact on my lifestyle. I am a big believer in using what you have and also in the idea that you lose what you don’t use. I know there are people who have no choice in whether they use an assistive device or not. I have that choice. And I believe that if I had made a different choice, I wouldn’t be as active as I now am on some days.

This decision has been complicated by the fact that I got a sense from my husband that he was not on board with this whole scooter at Disney thing. And before anyone goes jumping down his throat about this, it has taken some heart to heart discussions between us to get to why I was getting weird vibes from him about it. (Disclaimer: I have his permission to publicly blog about this.) Of course I don’t need his permission in my decision about whether to use a scooter or not but I do value his opinion and it was important to me to hear his thoughts. I also felt like I needed his support on this. Come to find out, the weird vibes I was getting were accurate. My husband eventually told me that even though he wants me to do whatever I feel I need to do, that he felt like renting a scooter would be giving in to my illness. Same exact thoughts I was having.

But here’s the thing and this I know with absolute certainty: I’m a fighter. I have never given in to this illness. There are times where I have been accepting of the illness and the limitations it has imposed on me but I would not call that giving up or giving in. I also know that many, if not most people reading this, have no idea of what I go through on a daily basis just to function. Although my husband has a pretty good idea, he still cannot physically feel what I feel. He does not know every single instance I have pushed through when I should have been home in bed. Nobody does but me. And that is how I prefer it to be because I don’t want my life to be a series of verbal complaints coming out of my mouth about how lousy I feel.

I remembered a similar decision I was trying to make a few years ago regarding applying for a handicap parking placard. Similar thought process. A good friend told me that I should get the placard and if it made me feel better, only use it when I absolutely had to. She must have told me this on several occasions and finally I got one. And as I was making my scooter decision, I thought about all the times I got myself to the store, the doctor, or to a much needed social event just because I could use that handicap placard and park closer to my destination. I thought about how during those times, I had more energy to complete my errands or enjoy my time out with friends because of the placard.

Why would Disney be any different? Say for example it’s Day Two of our trip. It’s 5pm and we have spent a majority of the day at Animal Kingdom and we are now resting back at our hotel. And my husband and I want to go Downtown Disney to try one of the many restaurants there that we have been talking about for the past year and a half. But my joints hurt so bad and I am so exhausted that I cannot fathom getting out of the bed and leaving the hotel room. But wait, there’s my scooter. So my choices are, postpone Downtown Disney until a different day and hope that I am feeling better or not give in to my fears and take the scooter to dinner.

Have I mentioned that this is our HONEYMOON?!?

So I have rented a scooter for the week that we are at Disney. Why? Because I have decided that the possibility of enjoying our honeymoon more fully AND making the experience better not only for myself, but for my husband, is much more important than giving in. I’m not talking about the giving in to the illness, but rather the giving in to my fear. Because not renting/using a scooter and then not being able to do what I (we) want to do IS letting the illness win. It is taking a gamble on letting this thing called Sjögren’s dictate how we are going to enjoy this precious time together. That is not acceptable to me. Because like I said, I’m a fighter.

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If anyone out there has any experiences with using a scooter in Disney, please share your experiences in the comment section below. I am open to hearing about both good and bad experiences because your experiences could help me to have a better one. Thank you.

The Smell of the Sheets

March 20, 2013 / / 10 Comments

I went to lie down on a stretcher this morning and as I got comfortable on my back and waited for the radiology technician to come back in the room, I was struck by a smell. A familiar smell. One that prompted my brain to flash various images through my head, one right after the other. Images of different procedures, some painful and some not. Images of myself sitting in a hospital bed in various rooms throughout this particular hospital where I was having my test done. Images of  emergency rooms where I have sat.

What was this smell? I finally realized, while laying on the stretcher this morning, that it was the smell of the hospital sheet covering the stretcher. All of a sudden, I realized that the smell of the hospital sheet is as commonplace to me as the smell of fresh baked cookies or bread to someone else. It is very distinct. The smell was representative of all the stretchers I have laid upon in the past several years. There are too many to count. The sheets have laid below or on top of my struggling body as I have tossed and turned in the middle of the night in my hospital room, while I have vomited on an emergency room stretcher, and while a tube has been put down my airway and into my lungs during a procedure. The smell of the sheets symbolizes my life as a patient.

I realized as I was laying there this morning that I had not smelled the sheets in exactly three months, which is when I had my last procedure or test done, excluding laboratory tests. This particular test on this morning was an ultrasound of my kidneys and bladder and was painless, as well as easy for me. Basically a walk in the park. No needles, no gagging, no fear of the unknown, as I have encountered with so many other tests and procedures throughout the past few years. But the smell of the sheets reminds me of those times and the struggles I have had.

Last fall I made a very thought out decision to see a therapist/counselor who has a specialty in seeing people with chronic illness. I was at the point where I felt like I needed some help in learning how to cope with my illness and the multitude of issues surrounding being forty-one years old and disabled. I did not like the fact that my illness seemed to consume most of my conversations with my fiancé, friends, and family. I was finding it harder and harder to discuss anything else besides my symptoms, treatments, fears, and anxiety. I wanted more out of my relationships than that. Easier said than done when you have an illness that you are physically aware of almost every minute of the day. It wasn’t that I did not want to learn more about Sjogren’s, continue my book about it, or socialize with other Sjogren’s sufferers, but rather I wanted to find a way to have Sjogren’s be a part of my life instead of the focus of it.

I was also starting to struggle with significant anxiety in relation to upcoming procedures and I was having nightmares about them as well. Not surprising considering what I have gone through in the past couple of years and even before that with my lymphoma diagnosis, both in regards to procedures and medical experiences in general. I have had incisions made in the tops of my feet and had thin wires threaded up along the lymph vessels of my legs. I have woken up during a bronchoscopy because I was not properly sedated. I have had scary experiences with my heart in the emergency room and honestly thought I was going to die. The list goes on and on.

So I have been working diligently with this therapist. I have not mentioned, previous to this posting, this fact to many people. Actually only my fiancé, parents, and minister have known. I have not kept it to myself because I am embarrassed about seeing a therapist, but I guess I did not want people to know exactly how much I do emotionally struggle with having this illness. I want to be viewed and known as a warrior; a person who can handle all this illness business without much difficulty.

Yeah, I know. That’s crap. It’s the people who know they need help that are the warriors.

I have realized recently how much working with this therapist has helped me. Many times when people have trauma issues of any type, there are certain triggers that can bring back memories and feelings surrounding the traumatic event. For me, sometimes it is the smell of the sheets. The smell that brings back those images and reminds me of the pain, fear, and uncertainty that surrounds each difficult medical event. But this morning was much different when I recognized the smell of the sheets. When the smell prompted me to play back some of the difficult procedures and medical experiences I have had, mostly over the past year, I did not have the anxiety. Rather, I remembered them just as events that took place. Events that are a part of my journey. Were the events unpleasant? Yes. But the memories no longer haunt me while I sleep.

Therapy has also made a difference in my interpersonal relationships. Sjogren’s is still a part of my conversations at times. It needs to be as it is part of who I am. However I have recently found myself able to consistently focus on other aspects of my life in conversations and dealings with others. Because despite my continued physical struggles, I no longer think of myself primarily as a sick person. Instead, I think of myself as a person who has an illness. There is a huge difference. That difference actually made me realize something about one night last week. I had attended a social event with my fiancé and five friends that lasted about four hours. Not once in that time of conversing and socializing did the topic of my health come up. That is a very good thing. Not because I don’t ever want to talk about it or have people ask how I am doing but because it means that I have been able to have a life outside of Sjogren’s.

The smell of the sheets this morning transported me back in time to my struggles, but not to my anxiety and fear. This time the smell was a strong reminder to me of my strength and my ability to endure. It reminded me that yes, I am a patient. But that is not all I am. And so I have chosen to share this experience with you. To remind you that you don’t always have to be brave and you don’t always have to be strong. It is OK to ask for help. It is OK to be human.

“What Do You Do All Day?”

August 6, 2012 / / 12 Comments
“Disability is a matter of perception. If you can do just one thing well, you’re needed by someone.”  ~Martina Navratilova

What do you do all day? A question that I have been asked many times by a variety of people. For those of you who don’t know me, the question gets asked because I have not worked at a job for approximately three and a half years now due to a medical disability. I am forty-one years old. I have no children. In a society where most citizens work, stay home and raise children, do both, or are retired, I am an anomaly. And yes, I am very well aware of this fact.

I will be honest here. Up until recently, anytime this question was asked of me, I would get angry and defensive. The question gave me the impression that if I was not working a job outside of the home or raising kids in the home, what else was there to do in life? It made me feel that because I could not do either of these things due to circumstances way beyond my control, I was no longer useful. And that is why I would become defensive. Because for a while after I became disabled, I did feel useless. But that was MY issue, not the other person’s issue. I was in my late thirties when I became disabled and I felt like my life was over.

But my life was far from over. I started over and built a different type of life for myself and made my days productive and fulfilling in ways I never thought possible before I got sick. I don’t know what my future holds medically and maybe the routine of my days will change again someday. Although I am very realistic about the nature of my illness, I also hang on to the hope that maybe there is a chance that as insidiously as my work life was taken away from me, maybe someday it will eventually be returned to me.

Very recently, someone whom I respect and care about very much asked me “what do you do all day?” I had not been asked the question in quite a while and something in me clicked. Because it came from a person who I knew genuinely cared about me, I knew the question was just one of curiosity. It was at this point that I realized that maybe people just did not understand that there can be more to life than going to work every day or raising children. That someone like me can go through their days without being bored. Or even go through their days feeling fulfilled and with purpose. Maybe people just don’t understand how much is involved on a day to day basis in managing a chronic illness.

And because of those thoughts, here we are. Instead of getting defensive when the question was presented to me again, it made me think of how I do spend my time and I would like to share that. Not because I feel like I need to justify how I spend my days or my life but because I hope that this blog entry may help bring awareness and understanding to those people who may be curious what it is like to be in my situation. And trust me, I am not alone in my situation.

First off, none of my days or weeks are typical. Sjogren’s syndrome is a very unpredictable and sometimes progressive autoimmune illness. I can have a week or even a few months without any major issues and then suddenly be unable to function for days, weeks, or months. This is the part that keeps me out of work because you cannot hold down a job when you could be out sick several days a week or even several months at a time; not to mention that you actually have to work several hours at a time, in a row! Even when I am not having a major issue that requires immediate intervention or concern, I have daily issues that need to be dealt with that have become an accepted part of my life. An example of this is the dryness issue. Not necessarily something that would keep me from working a job but it is something that requires regular medical follow up care and daily attention.

OK, so what do I do all day? It greatly varies depending on how I feel. One of the biggest considerations is that I cannot do a full day of activity for several consecutive days due to pain and fatigue so I have to plan accordingly. Due to physical issues and limitations on some days, many activities can take me a lot longer to do, such as housekeeping. Before I got sick, I could have cleaned my current home top to bottom in about three hours, scrubbing floors and all. Now it can take me several days because I have to break the work up into sections. Keeping up the house, shopping, and cooking is my responsibility for the most part. I have made it my responsibility. I have a fiance (Chuck) who works about 55 hours a week and I do not. Although I do have a disability income, I feel that this is my way to contribute more to our household. Now of course this all goes out the window when my symptoms flare up but I do the best I can.

I sit out on an open field on a sunny day and watch my dog run free with elation. I have never had as much appreciation for the good moments in my day as I do now.

When I am physically able to, I get myself involved with worthy causes and other people. I volunteer with my church. I volunteer for whatever comes my way when I am able so that I can make a difference in this world, even if I am not getting paid for it. Sometimes I cannot do something like this for six months at a time and sometimes I can do something helpful several times in one week. I make it a point to never commit to anything on a scheduled ongoing basis because I have done that in the past and it just does not work out due to the unpredictability of my illness. I help out my friends with their children when needed. I also help out friends who are also facing their own health struggles.

Unless something very catastrophic is going on with my body, I try to get to the gym five to six days a week, even if it is just to go and float on a noodle in the pool or swim a few laps. Exercise has been a salvation for me. My hope is that as I take better care of my body, it will become stronger and this will help my illness.

I am constantly doing something to sustain and nurture my personal relationships. Because I have had to slow down, I have the distinct advantage of being able to give my relationships the time and attention that they deserve.

I have been blessed with several passions that I pursue during the week when many other people are at work and they are activities that are especially helpful when I am confined to the house or laid up in bed. Learning to cook and experiment with different recipes has been wonderful; especially since starting a gluten and dairy-free diet seven months ago. And I have also pursued my passion for writing. I truly believe that during the past several years writing has been my other salvation. I can easily spend several hours at a time writing for either my blog, a book I am working on, or for a variety of places that I send submissions to. It is through my writing that I have been able to connect with the world and help people in a way that I can no longer do as a nurse.

I spend time in a library or online learning something new.

Last, but of course not least, I have made a part-time job out of being a patient. This is by far my least favorite thing to do but quite necessary. As I was driving to Hartford last Thursday for an appointment, I did some rough calculations in my head. In the past seven days leading up to the appointment I was driving to, I had spent approximately seventeen hours in the previous week managing my illness. I know there have been weeks where maybe this was a bit less, although not by much and I know there have been weeks where this amount has been MUCH greater. This includes: driving to appointments, hanging out in waiting rooms, the actual appointments, blood work, phone calls to doctors, getting lab results, a support group, picking up prescriptions, calling in refills, calling insurance and disability companies, dealing with social security, taking medication, managing my dry eyes/mouth, saline rinses, setting up/cleaning humidifier, and preparing medications and such for travel.

Seventeen hours.
Like I said, never bored.

I truly hope that this essay has shown that it is possible to have a life outside of a 9-5 job or raising a family. There is more than one way to define yourself as a person. I used to think that if I wasn’t a nurse or if that I wasn’t anyone’s wife or mother, that I could not be of value to this world. Although there are great values to being all of those things, there is also great value in being many other things as well.

A friend.
A mentor.
A daughter.
A dog mommy.
A godmother.
A writer.
A human being.

As people with disabilities, we may not always be able to get out into the world every day to define ourselves. We have physical, mental, and emotional limitations that we need to work around on a daily basis. Most of our days may just be spent trying to meet our physical needs. But I also think that it is important that we allow ourselves, as much as possible, the opportunity to spend some of that time doing something in our day that allows us to define ourselves.

Not just our sick selves.
But as our true authentic selves.

Photo Courtesy of Chuck Myers http://myerscreativephotography.zenfolio.com/

“Why Me?”

April 4, 2012 / / 8 Comments

Every hand in need that reaches for me

is a piece of my salvation.
The troubles they have mirror mine.
In acknowledging their demands.
I help heal their wounds, give them hope.
What I want is to be selfish and sit in the dark.
I want to scream… WHY ME!
But with the Grace of God, I cannot.
I sympathize with the pain and sorrow.
My compassion is the light by which I walk,
it is what heals me.
~ Cyndi Lamacchia
This is an excerpt from the poetry that was read during our Easter Cantata at my church last Sunday. This particular part was written by another member of my church and in the moment that it was being read aloud by my minister, the words grabbed me. It seemed to echo how I had been feeling about my life over the past several weeks.
I think it is a great piece not only because it sang to me, but also because it can be interpreted in many different ways; both religious and non religious. My first interpretation upon hearing it is that it is about Jesus. But then I realized that it could also be about many of us; those who are facing huge obstacles in our lives. Sometimes one obstacle right after another in a relentless fashion.
This particular Sunday morning found me feeling lousy and I was questioning whether I should get up and go to church at all. I was battling a sinus infection on top of dealing with some of the same ongoing neurological issues and I was also recovering from a nasty fall the week before. Not even to mention that I was weaning down my dose of steroids, which typically causes my body a lot of grief until my body readjusts to the new dose. The assault on my body just seemed to continue week after week. And honestly, I was sick and tired of it.

As Chuck was getting dressed that morning and I was debating in my mind whether it was wiser to get up and go or stay home and rest, a statement that is very atypical for me came blurting out of my mouth. I said that maybe I should get myself to church if for no other reason than to ask God why he keeps throwing one health obstacle after another at me with no respite. Why can’t he just give me a break? I thought I was half kidding when I uttered the words but the thoughts and words came so fast that I think there was some truth to them. Because looking back at the past three months, it really has been one issue after another and let’s face it, I already had a full plate to begin with.

“Why me?”

I don’t do the whole self pity thing too often and to be honest, I don’t think that God is up wherever he is plotting different ways to torture me. I believe in a loving God. Not one that punishes us. I like to think that there is a reason for most things that happen in life but lately, I am not so sure about that. Am I being tested? Do I just have terrible luck? As you can tell, I have been doing a lot of questioning lately about why I am in the place I am with my health. I don’t blame God necessarily but I do sit back and wonder about it. Am I experiencing this in order to appreciate the many blessings that I do have in my life? Is it supposed to make me a stronger person? Or is it just the way it is?

Regardless, the onslaught of physical problems over the past three months has all led to me wanting to selfishly, as this poem mentions, spend more time than usual in the dark.

Stay in bed. Stay home. Let the illness win.

But I do not.
I keep going.

I keep going for many reasons:
For the family and friends who love me and have cheered me on day after day, week after week.

For all those affected by Sjogren’s syndrome and other chronic illnesses I have met online and in person whose hand in need has reached for me. At times they have been MY salvation.

For myself because I like to believe that someday the light by which I walk will be much brighter.
It is very easy to fall into the “why me?” trap. Although perhaps a perfectly natural response, it is a futile one. The time and energy spent in our self pity over events that we may not have control over leads us to make less than optimum decisions. Decisions are something that we DO have control over. Instead of making the decision to give into our crisis or illness, we can make attempts at avoiding the dark place. Like deciding if we truly need to stay in bed and rest versus making an attempt to be in the world. Or like the decision to push ourselves on a difficult day to get outside and walk; even if it is just a very short distance. Maybe making a conscious decision to replace “why me?” with “how can I help you” to another person. It is not always easy to make these decisions as sometimes we should rest or not take that walk if it will do more harm than good.

This is the point in my blog entry where I wrap it up with some heartfelt opinion or realization but truly, I have none today. And that is not a bad thing either. It means that I still wrestle with the issue and like is implied in the poem, I am not alone in this. I would like to know what my readers think about this topic.

Do you ever sit back and say “why me?”

What do you do to avoid getting sucked into that dark place?

Do you feel that it changes the way that you think about God?

Photo Courtesy of Google Images
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