Observing the world around me lately I noticed a reluctance by people to accept the inevitability of change. Now, it’s not like I’ve been oblivious to this reality – and it is a reality no matter how liberal you think the world is – but the truth is that whenever you think you’ve found its limits, there’s that little bit more that kind of catches you off guard.
Before you come down on me, smiting me for being all idealist and a dreamer (“You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one,” said John), I myself am not a very big fan of change. I am not one of those people that need to go somewhere new every time they leave the house, or need to buy something new simply because I can’t go with the product I am already happy with. I like stability, nay, I seek stability – I think we all should.
But at the same time, I am willing to try new things. And I do accept change as it comes, embrace it, and try to adjust according to it. At the very least, I will not fight change, pretend it is not happening and hope for the best. Isn’t change and progress what defines us as the human race, after all? (Playing semantics here, change does not necessarily imply progress)
Here comes the personal bit.
Over the past nine years I have accepted my MS diagnosis and my new life reality. I actually think that the initial shock from the diagnosis wore off within 30 minutes. I know what I need to be doing to maintain my body, I understand and accept that the way I do things, or that the things I do, will need to change. That I need to adjust to the reality that I can not do all of the things I used to be able to do, or could potentially be able to do. At least on a physical level, sometimes even on a cognitive level (that is the fog reference in my blog title).
But I also refuse to accept these changes. Try to take on more than I know I can handle. Repeatedly. Often with disastrous results for both my health and my – for lack of a more suitable description – emotional serenity. Because I want to fit in – which I am told I don’t need to do, because I want to feel normal – although I am repeatedly told I am (what is normal after all), or because I feel like I need to prove myself – although, once again I am told I don’t need to prove anything.
And even if my best man keeps telling me that this is very subjective, and I was bound to become less capable as I age, I can’t help but feel that I am no longer on par with my other friends – I get tired too easily, can not concentrate, hate the unpredictability and uncertainty of my life.
The end result of this tag of war between the rational and the irrational, or the exaggerated if you like, as MSers know all too well, is depression. Depression that could last for a couple of hours, or a couple of months, it’s all the same. Depression that could have short spells of joy. Depression that you just need to let go away on its own.
Those short spells of joy however could become prolonged, extended periods of joy, and define a person’s life. Make depression the exception. In order to do that, I myself at least, need the people I consider the closest to me around me. To be supportive. To be understanding. To be accepting. To once again reaffirm that change happens to everyone. Something to bring you back to the stability. Stability between two states of mind that disagree with each other.