Feeling driven and suppressed, motivated and defeated in simultaneous waves. What exactly can I call this place I’m at in life?
With a running list of “to dos” I come home to defeat. “I’m done for the day,” I think to myself as my body grapples with fatigue, moving like sludge through my apartment. “Just a quick sit down and I’ll be ready ‘to do.’” But my mind rummages through its material and surfaces suppressed thoughts and I’m quickly engulfed by my obsessive need for answers to what I’m facing in this world of mine.
Am I too accommodating? Do I care too heavily for the convenience of others and repeatedly resort to placing myself on the back burner? Have I forgotten some passion? What on this earth am I searching for; wanting what I do not have, no longer and never had? Why do these thoughts even come to question? Perhaps it is a lack of certainty. Perhaps it is a lack of esteem. Perhaps it is a lack of security. Perhaps it is some derivative combination.
I feel a constant reminder, just as I’m occupied with fulfillment, of my MS and that I may never be without. Fievel’s friend sings, “Never say never” in the film An American Tale, and I reprimand myself for the mere thought of the word. Does using “may” previous to it make the word any less potent? Is that my excuse to stating what I will or will not do in the future? I wish I knew. But I do think that, though simple, what a valuable lesson to live by.
I believe that the mind’s power of thought can be both nurturing and depleting; a gamble, with hope to avoid the latter. So easily we can tear ourselves down or build upon the wants, the needs, the desires we possess. Today we are surrounded by quick-fix, self-help, be-happy strategies to incorporate in our daily lives. And to answer, of course I’ve succumb to reading these experience-based writings with their quick wit 5-step solutions and their catchy selling titles. It’s fascinating how easily you can access the inner workings of one person’s mind and what it took for them to come out on top of their own suppression. And you learn that though we are all so humanely similar, our biology is all so personal and heavily dependent on whether we’ve ourselves chosen to change.
To change. You fall in love with the idea, thinking of the endless possibilities, the enormous potential for “better.” But to change? You then feel the pressure of defeat; what a dangerous, hefty journey to tackle without complete certainty of the end result. Change would unequivocally disrupt the equilibrium you’ve arranged at present for yourself. There’s no doubt that it would. And here is where I find the beauty in change. Life is forever moving, forever growing, forever changing. No matter how we push to prevent it, the world will not stop and we will go with it – without choice, without attempt. I can say with certainty that we’re never stuck for eternity in one spot, because that spot will sink and we will sink and the world as we knew it will have changed, developed, and reshaped into a more workable state. The same goes for disease, the process, the progression, the reversion. It is forever changing. It can be stable; where activity ceased to engage. But the life around continues to bustle and there is no telling of what direction change may go.
So back to where I sit in my apartment, weak in my rest fretting over my worrisome fatigue. My body will never be the same. But then again, it never was the same as any day prior. I admit I worry without end about what the future looks like until I come to realize the distance I’ve come since the summer of 2015 (even earlier than 2014). And I must say that I have changed – grown for the better, in no way wishing I was back at that point in my life. So why do I keep thinking “my body will never be the same,” when in reality I will always be me, though not the exact same because I am living and with that growing and changing.
It seems as though I’m searching for some past feeling and I cannot for the life of me be patient enough to figure it out and make it happen. I guess that is why many change careers, move to new cities, and follow new and exciting relationships that all provide a rush of life into their souls. I suppose that’s part of the purpose of life; get lost in your world, embrace the change, and go forward into the maze your mind has constructed. An ever-working masterpiece is this world of mine.