Over the last few days, I have learned some valuable lessons.
First and foremost, I was reminded this week that I am extraordinarily blessed to have a diverse cadre of superior friends and family members.
I also learned a valuable lesson about ladders, not to mention a very painful experience that drove home the importance of why access to affordable and quality health care is so important for our national security.
But having so much down time has also allowed me to reflect on at least two other subjects: balance and perception.
During this presidential election season we have all heard a bunch of rhetoric about “self-reliance” and about “being in this together.” But which philosophy is correct?
Just like working with a ladder, the most important lesson is too often forgotten: it’s all about balance.
And we lose our balance when our perceptions become too narrowly defined.
A week ago, I broke my left arm in two different places while helping my sons with their landscaping business. The injuries, although significant, will eventually heal.
These last few days have been tough. It’s amazing how much you take for granted the use of two working arms. For example, try zipping up your pants with one arm. Or opening a bottle of pain meds; typing or driving a vehicle with a standard transmission.
Most people understand those limitations. They instantly empathize, and are quick to offer assistance. After all, my injuries are very obvious. My arm is either in a sling or set into a wrap-around corset to keep it in place. I have visible wounds on my legs and my elbow.
Strangers ask what happened with sympathetic voices, and they often share with me their own similar experiences. My friends laugh with me about how the accident happened. It’s okay and acceptable to make jokes about it.
We are comfortable with physical injuries. They do not frighten us. Shit happens.
Anyone who has ever smashed their elbow into a 3-inch-thick slab of stone knows that it is a painful injury. They know why you need to take it easy and sometimes need the use of medication to cope or just sleep through the night.
I say all this because these experiences provided me with a very stark contrast to my much less obvious injuries; the disease that is invisible to the eye, that is masked by perception.
On balance (no pun intended) my mental illness is far more painful than a broken arm. But you can’t see it, and I am reluctant to show it to you.
Imagine a disease that rarely allows you to sleep through an entire night. A disease that constantly impacts your perception of the world around you; a disease that clouds your judgment, alters your reality and makes it almost impossible to get out of bed.
Imagine an intense level of pain that without medication would have you think every hour of every day about ending your life; a disease that inhibits your ability to maintain relationships and function as a productive member of society.
Imagine having a disease that is commonly ridiculed and often dismissed as nothing more than “feeling sorry for yourself.”
I live with the challenges of that disease every day. I fight it with every fiber of my existence, only to know that it will never go away; that there is no cure or remedy.
I refuse to allow my broken arm to alter my life. This last week has been one of the busiest and most challenging weeks of my professional career, and I have risen to each and every challenge.
Am I bragging? Yes, but only to make a point. This is the way the overwhelming majority of people who suffer from a mental illness operate. They struggle through each day. They go to work. They mask their pain. They pay their bills. They follow the law. They take their meds and follow their doctor’s orders.
They wince when they hear the words “sicko, whack job and nut case,” but they swallow and stay silent for fear of being labeled, judged or excluded.
They are just like you. They are your neighbors, your friends and your co-workers. They did not choose to become sick any more than you would choose to fall off a ladder. They are some of the most self-reliant people you will ever meet. They have abundant courage and determination.
We all have limitations. The trick is learning to balance and to expand your range of perception. With those tools, you can fix just about anything.
LESSONS IN MEDIOCRITY 
Randy, well stated, my friend. I think I’ve mentioned/suggested Paulo Coelho’s “Veronica Decides to Die”? Here’s an excerpt for you. 🙂 Thanks for sharing yourself with us!
“Have you ever been to Florence?” asked Dr. Igor.
“No.”
“You should go there; it’s not far, for that is where you will find my second example. In the cathedral in Florence, there’s a beautiful clock designed by Paolo Uccello in 1443. Now, the curious thing about this clock is that, although it keeps time like all other clocks, its hands go in the opposite direction to that of normal clocks.”
“What’s that got to do with my illness?”
“I’m just coming to that. When he made this clock, Paolo Uccello was not trying to be original: The fact is that, at the time, there were clocks like his as well as others with hands that went in the direction we’re familiar with now. For some unknown reason, perhaps because the duke had a clock with hands that went in the direction we now think of as the “right” direction, that became the only direction, and Uccello’s clock then seemed an aberration, a madness.”
Dr. Igor paused, but he knew that Mari was following his reasoning.
“So, let’s turn to your illness: Each human being is unique, each with their own qualities, instincts, forms of pleasure, and desire for adventure. However, society always imposes on us a collective way of behaving, and people never stop to wonder why they should behave like that. They just accept it, the way typists accepted the fact that the QWERTY keyboard was the best possible one. Have you ever met anyone in your entire life who asked why the hands of a clock should go in one particular direction and not in the other?”
“No.”
“If someone were to ask, the response they’d get would probably be: ‘You’re crazy.’ If they persisted, people would try to come up with a reason, but they’d soon change the subject, because there isn’t a reason apart from the one I’ve just given you. So to go back to your question. What was it again?”
“Am I cured?”
“No. You’re someone who is different, but who wants to be the same as everyone else. And that, in my view, is a serious illness.”
“Is wanting to be different a serious illness?”
“It is if you force yourself to be the same as everyone else. It causes neuroses, psychoses, and paranoia. It’s a distortion of nature, it goes against God’s laws, for in all the world’s woods and forests, he did not create a single leaf the same as another. But you think it’s insane to be different, and that’s why you chose to live in Villete, because everyone is different here, and so you appear to be the same as everyone else. Do you understand?”
Mari nodded.
“People go against nature because they lack the courage to be different, and then the organism starts to produce Vitriol, or bitterness, as this poison is more commonly known.”
― Paulo Coelho, Veronika Decides to Die
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With my family’s long connections to Sweetser, I have seen first hand what you are talking about. Kids and families with mental illness and learning disabilities need a helping hand. We are lucky to have organizations like Sweetser and CSI in our community. Politically, we must stop sweeping the issue under the rug and pretending it doesn’t exist and begin to really deal with the root problems.
And all this time I thought you were whacked because you worked with me!!
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Craig: CSI literally saved my life; and Sweetser did amazing things for people very close to me, including my son. You are right, of course…but people don’t sweep these issues under the rug because they are indifferent, selfish or uncaring. They ignore these issues because they have a false belief it can’t happen to them and they are afraid of dealing with something so frightening and real/
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A very thoughtful and brave observation. When I read stories like yours, I am humbled by the enormous courage it must take to expose to others the part of you that you must prefer to keep to yourself. But then I get this wave of happiness and optimism that maybe, just maybe, somebody who lives in the shadows of whatever ails them might read it and find some relief.
When I was my daughter’s age (15) in 1971, the intolerance and ignorance in the world was suffocating. Except we didn’t actually realize it at the time. We didn’t know then what mental illness was. We didn’t know what homosexuality was. We didn’t know what learning disorders were. We didn’t know how to look at or speak to a physically handicapped person. And we didn’t know how to look at and speak to a black person.
Look at the levels of tolerance and understanding we’ve achieved since then. My 15 year old daughter has an openly gay uncle – she doesn’t find it odd. There is an openly gay couple who are seniors in her high school – and not one kid thinks that’s odd. There are 2 mentally challenged kids who are beloved by the student body. They went to the prom as a couple last spring and everyone danced with them – and not one kid thought that was odd. The high school is 100% handicap accessible and not one kid thinks it’s odd. We have a black First Family and these kids don’t understand what the fuss is about.
All of this came about during the last 40 years, in my humble opinion, one conversation at a time. One newspaper article at a time. One story at a time. One confession at a time. That’s why I’m applauding what you wrote here. If it benefits one person, it will have been worth it.
We still have too many people living in the shadows of fear and intolerance. My pet peeve right now are the Dream Kids. It’s not their fault that they’re here but they live in abject fear of deportation every minute of every day.
I hope I’ve chosen my words carefully enough. Nobody should have to fear being labeled, judged or excluded for any illness, or for anything. We have come a long way, you know, but our dialogue isn’t finished yet. We have to do it for our kids.
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Karen: Spot on commentary! Thank you for sharing!
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I have bp as well. I have often thought it would be easier if I had a broken bone or some physical ailment people could understand. Lola
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Incredibly well said my friend!
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