June 28, 2006

• Variable Limitations

  In my profession, I was exposed to a lot of the New Age YCYOR (you
  create your own reality) dogma, and to the idea of affirmations (saying
  it not as you see it but as you want it to be).  In 12-step
  programs there’s an idea that’s expressed as “fake it ’til you make
  it,” or just pretend you’re all spiritual until you magically become
  spiritually evolved.

  

  The reality I have observed appears to be only partially of my own
  creation.  It seems to me that the only people who truly create
  their own realities are psychotics.  The rest of us affect our
  realities to some extent, while living with effects created by
  others.  The “no-limits” philosophies of people like Wayne Dyer
  work for me in some areas and not in others.  As for
  fake-it-till-you-make-it, I’ve observed that those who fake it are the
  ones least likely to really make it.

  What I  have been doing is testing my limits.  I don’t assume I can’t do anything, nor do I assume I can
  do everything.  My father trained me not to say, “I can’t.” 
  It’s self-defeating to think that way.  It can also be
  self-destructive to act as if I can do things of which I’m not capable.

  The variability of my M.E.
  symptoms from day to day, and even from minute to minute, make the
  whole subject of limitations problematic.  It would be sweet to
  have a little gauge, say on the back of my hand, that I could look at
  and see how far I can walk before I fall down, or whether it’s safe to
  try and stand up, climb stairs, etc. 

  I have been trying to learn to tune in on my physical condition to get
  some idea of where the limit is before I start a task, but so far, I
  haven’t a clue.  Oh, sure, if I can’t get up from a seated
  position, I can be pretty sure I shouldn’t try repairing the roof or
  going to the laundromat.  But when I’m getting around the house
  okay, I really don’t know whether I’ll be able to make it to the end of
  the block and back, much less whether I can handle a trip to town.

  Yesterday, I had been thinking about what Greyfox has said lately about
  enjoying every day.  The weather was beautiful and I wanted to get
  out in it.  After some initial trouble getting out of bed, I was
  navigating around the house okay, so I hung my camera around my neck
  and set out for the end of the block and the road out to the cul de sac.

  I wasn’t thinking ahead.  Just living in the moment, walking at my
  normal pace — the old “normal” for me, long strides and fairly rapid
  rhythm — I was feeling the warmth of the sun and listening to
  birdsong.  About halfway to the end of the block I felt a wave of
  weakness and slowed my pace.  I made it around the corner and
  maybe twenty yards along that road before I had to sit down.  I
  rested until too many mosquitoes found me and were swarming me so thick
  I couldn’t help inhaling a few.  Then I got up and shuffled back
  home.

  I don’t know if I learned anything useful from the experience. 
  Maybe if I have enough of those experiences, I will begin to get a
  sense of what I am capapble of doing before I attempt to do more than I
  can.  Thus far, I have overestimated my capacity more often than I
  have underestimated it.  I do get tired of hitting that damned
  wall, but it is still better than just sitting around wondering where
  the damned wall is today.

  Some of my male readers have suggested lately that I may need to see a
  doctor.  I do have one.  I must make an appearance at the
  local clinic every six months for renewals of the prescription meds I
  take for dyspnea, to keep breathing.  Mary, the M.D. there, is
  attentive and intelligent.  She admits that I know more about my
  condition (both my personal
  condition and the disorder I am living with) than she does.  With
  that acknowledgement, she has earned more of my respect than has any of
  the other medical personnel I’ve had to deal with. 

  Some of my female readers have expressed approval and even admiration
  of the way I handle my disability and nutrition, etc.  I don’t
  know what this says about differences between the sexes.  Although
  I appreciate the guys’ concern, I am reminded of the recently published
  research showing that men think with only half their brains.  I’m
  doing my best to use all the brains I’ve got. 

  That’s really my only viable option, since the medico-pharmaceutical
  establishment and government agencies such as CDC and NIH generally act
  as if they have their metaphorical heads up their figurative
  arses.  Many of us with M.E./CFIDS believe there is a conspiracy
  involving the insurance industry and big pharma, to promote the idea
  that this disease doesn’t exist.  If they are correct, that
  situation will probably change as soon as someone develops a diagnostic
  test and/or effective treatment for it.

  Personally, I don’t know if the problem is ignorance, fear, malice,
  greed or all of the above.  I’m too busy trying to have a life
  that’s just a little more than mere survival, and I don’t have enough
  energy to spare to try and figure that one out.

  

  • 5:49 pm
  • 4 Comments