Tuesday, September 3, 2013

The Distraction Of Blame

With a flood of consciousness I became aware of a fundamental flaw in my thinking. As much as I blame my illness for my problems, I don't. Because I place far larger emphasis on my behavior than I ever do my diseases. Yes, I may give up in a huddled heap of despair with my angry fist shaking high in the air at Fibromyalgia. But that is only after I have emotionally beat myself to smithereens for allowing it to happen in the first place. For not being stronger, more disciplined, succumbing to pain and exhaustion. Being unable to rise above the aches and fatigue that envelope me. Natural stress on a life force is what inspires survival of an organism in the first place. Shouldn't I, a being with intelligence and a soul, be able to find a way to survive most anything that can happen on this planet? By using my intelligence and soul to override the worst of circumstances? This is the expectation I set forth. 

And this is the expectation that has contributed to a significant amount of my heartache and anger. Somewhere lies the middle ground which represents reality. I do live a life of diminished capacity. However, many choices along the way shape the quality of this life. By choosing to place the majority of the burden of my quality of life on my behavior, not medical conditions, I've done two things. First, made myself nuts with how short I fall of these expectations. Second, and this is the big one, completely avoided accepting that this is just my reality.

Of course few things in life are ever so simple. Somewhere in the middle of all this lies the simple fact that if I hadn't fought back with everything I had I wouldn't be standing today. The difference that comes from regular exercise, good sleep, a healthy diet and respecting my limits is astounding. The work it took to get me here is all the more so. But somewhere along the way I stopped fighting the illness and started fighting against myself until it got so bad I couldn't keep going. No matter what I did it all seemed to backfire. I can only conclude it is because this illness is real, really hard to endure and not going away just because I've dotted every i and crossed every t.

Thanks for joining,
Leah