When I was 2 years old, we had a fish tank. A mama fish had given birth and my parents put the babies in a small bottle inside the tank to separate them from the bigger fish (so they wouldn’t get eaten).
My parents were having a “discussion” in the kitchen one day. I wanted a drink and tried to interrupt their conversation. My parents heard me peripherally but didn’t stop to get me a drink. So I left the room.
I returned a few minutes later with the empty bottle from the fish tank declaring “Got my own dink!”
That’s me – I can do it all by myself. Or at least I used to could (improper use of the English language intentional).
The last 13 years have taught me that sometimes the “I cans” have to be prioritized and maybe put on the back burner for a bit. The last 5 years, that can-do attitude has been a curse and a frustration.
I want to. But the reality is that most things I want to do are too much for me to realistically do.
We were talking this morning about making a few changes to our motorhome. One of the things we want to do first is replace cabinet handles and drawer pulls. My first response is “I can do that – all by myself”. Then I’m reminded that I have a hard time holding my arms up long enough to brush my hair. So how can I replace 46 handles – especially the ones that are overhead?
I can’t. And that kind of breaks my heart a little.
My family has been in this battle with me and they would graciously do anything I ask. The problem is – I don’t want to ask – I want to do it myself. I am becoming a better patient and accepting their care more and more. I have been asking more for help and they make me feel so loved in giving it. But it doesn’t change the desire to do it myself.
I know there are many chronically ill people who are desperate for help from friends and family. I know their lack of help is isolating and lonely. Maybe the fact that I have help waiting in the wings makes it easier to cling to the can-do mentality. Maybe I’m just stubborn.
Either way, holding on to the can-do attitude is a critical component of holding on to hope. But how do I do that when there is so much “I can’t do”?
I won’t pretend to have this mastered – I am learning and it is taking lots of practice and patience – along with the freedom to forgive my body when it fails me. I think it starts with focusing not on what I can’t do but on what I did do.
Today – I wrote this post. In fact I’ve been writing a lot lately. I haven’t been able to write for a while. My brain hasn’t been able to turn my thoughts into words. But today – I CAN write.
Today – I went to church. I wasn’t able to go to church for months. I wasn’t able to go the store, out to dinner, over to visit friends, I couldn’t even make it to the living room for a while. But today – I CAN go to church.
Small feats for most people – huge successes for me and others with chronic illness.
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PhilippiJoy 