Tag: emotional adjustment after disability

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Pause For A Cause

I don’t talk much about my problems or the disheartening ramifications of my SCI. I take them to God. That’s where I vent my frustration, cry, and fuss. Then miraculously, I can suck it up, redo whatever, or start over. I believe ‘start overs’—second chances—begin in hope. It’s the pauses that make it possible to start over or to cut a new trail in the actualization of new dreams. Let me use the comma as an example.

A comma is a punctuation mark that represents a pause to the eye of the reader. Whether used to delineate a list, give emphasis to a word, separate words and phrases of words, the comma gives clarity of interpretation. Like in the saying, “Life is just, not fair.” the comma clarifies that happenings in life conform to some fact or reason, although they may not be fair.

For instance: My car ran off the road, up an embankment, and flipped back down onto the road, landing upside down on its roof. The wreck was caused by the fact that my rear tires had a blowout. My SCI is its result. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t something I deserved. It happened.

As with the saying example, I used a pause—the comma after “just”—to accept it, re-evaluate, and clarify my options then, reconfigured my old dreams and created new ones.

WITHOUT the comma/pause, the sentence reads: “Life is just not fair.” Have you omitted the pause that could give clarity to your situation/disability/illness? In belligerence or bitterness, have you ricocheted off every hopeful course of action offered to you to better your life, to adjust to disability? Do you find yourself repeatedly boomeranging back to the same bad attitude of ingratitude and self-pity? It’s a self-fulfilling prophesy only you can change.

We ALL experience dashed hopes and broken dreams, but is that any reason to quit hoping, to stop dreaming, or to punish others because you have? Since we’re promised nothing more than today, why not begin today with a clarifying pause.

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In recognizing there is a problem, you open the mental windows for fresh ideas to circulate. The desire to do something about the problem(s) is the door to your freedom. Then, the choice to make the changes puts you on the path to fulfilling your purpose.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             My

My first book, Views From My Chariot: A Wheelchair  Oddity http://booklocker.com/books/6235.html , is a beginner course for you to recognize fresh ideas that will revive your hope after a SCI, resuscitate mental clarity for strength to push forward, and encourage you to open the door to a promising future that awaits you.

Once you make the choice to open the door to your future, my second book, HOW TO BE THE BEST YOU-from A to Z, coming SOON http://booklocker.com/books/6811.html,
is somewhat of a follow-up—a how-to find yourself, rediscover your heart, change your ‘stinkin’ thinkin’, and take a detour around the roadblocks to fulfill your destiny.

My hope is that you do. Let me be a part of your turnaround, your start-over, your happiness, and your life’s fulfillment. Then, please tell me about it.

We’ll all benefit from your success!

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Happiness Is A Choice

It’s no secret; I’m as much of a shut-in as you can be. Not as in being a hermit, because I love having friends and family come for visits in my home, but predominately from repercussions of disability. In light of my circumstances, someone recently asked what keeps me happy; what brings me happiness?

There are a myriad of things that bring me happiness. (You can enjoy many of my other delights in Views From My Chariot: A Wheelchair Oddity http://booklocker.com/books/6235.html .) But today’s happy topic is my cats.

I’ve had all three of my cats since my SCI, so they think it’s totally normal to live from a wheelchair; although, only two of them take advantage of 24/7 lap privilege.

They make me laugh many times a day at their crazy antics, cute faces, quirky behaviors, and expected responses. They are so-o-o predictable. Aside from the mere joys of having a pet, they’re also good for my health. Laughter is always good for what ails me, and stroking my pets lowers blood pressure.

Did you know that animals provide us with similar social support as people do? Although just like people, my cats sometimes make me cuss!

I know. I know. I’m trying to quit. But I promise I’m making progress. Recently, I was telling my sister about something frustrating that had happened. I don’t remember if it was something I had dropped, broken, or spilled OR if it was the day my 21½ year old female feline pranced, with intention, into my bedroom, raised her fluffy tail, and peed on an antique oriental rug.

Anyway, as a response to my dismay, she asked if I cussed. When I proudly remembered that I hadn’t, she said, “Wow, that would have been the right time to.” So much for my support system!

In my sixty-odd years of loving and observing animals, I know they have the capacity to understand and obey instruction (and disobey), retain good and bad memories thus, make associations, communicate with each other and us, if we choose to listen and observe.

For example, one day when all three of my felines were in the same room with me, I said something to Ciati, my only female. She looked at me, as usual, but the boys looked at her. I already knew that each knew their own name, but I hadn’t witnessed them knowing each others’ name. This new data called for a name-recognition survey.

I addressed Fred by name and said what a good boy he was. As usual, Fred looked up at me then, Ciati and Laptop looked at him. Oh-h-h!
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I took my experiment all the way. I called Laptop by name and told him he was also a good boy. Laptop looked at me, and Fred and Ciati looked at him. So-o-o cute! How smart! But then, why shouldn’t they know each other’s name. I call them by name a dozen times a day:

“My boy, Fred.” “Fred’s a handsome boy.” “Fred Astaire!”

“I love my Laptop.” “Laptop’s a good boy.” “Bad behavior, Laptop!”

“Ciati’s a pretty girl.” “Ciati’s my best girl.” “Ciati!”

A secondary reason for my happiness is from a choice to forget offenses, forgive, and look for rainbows during the rain. Sure, there are occasional disability downers, but they pass. I don’t let bad memories spoil my happiness. I’ve chosen to cast them to the wind. In fact, I’m a firm believer that Saturn’s rings comprise bad memories, the other sock, and ALL my unintentionally deleted emails, articles, messages, and manuscripts. I’m a very, very, VERY happy girl!

What’s your ‘happy pill?’

 

 

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Blue Bird Days

For several years after embarking on my chariot (wheelchair) ride, I experienced a brooding sadness. No one knew about it, only me. After the second year, I pinpointed it to occur for a couple of months in the fall. It dissipated as subtly as it appeared.

In the third and final year, I realized it was a mild depression. This sadness resulted from my association with the month of my SCI, September, and the loss of participating in favorite fall activities and exhilarating winter sports. This realization began my resurrection.

I had already grieved the death of sojourning the remainder of my life via feet (although I do believe in miracles). Now, it was time to bury old dreams and resurrect new hopes.

I leased an apartment in a newly completed complex. I recall the prediction of a possible evening snow. With the late-night news came the announcement that, indeed, it was snowing.

I threw on a shawl, wheeled out to the sidewalk, and laid my head back as silent snowflakes sifted softly onto my face. I lingered there for the longest, drinking in the peaceful beauty, and praising God, out loud.

Yes, I remember wondering if my neighbors thought I was crazy; but my joy trumped worrying about what they thought. I missed the snow. Just because I couldn’t ski or cross country in it, didn’t lessen my delight. I was in heaven. (A “crippling” half-inch accumulation of snow caused all schools to be closed the next day. What?)

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In recognizing my sadness, I could open the mental windows for fresh ideas to circulate. My desire to do something about it, to find happiness in other ways, was the door to my freedom. Choosing to make the emotional change adjusting to disability, put me on my healing path.

My first book, Views From My Chariot: A Wheelchair Oddity http://booklocker.com/books/6235.html , is a beginner course for you to recognize fresh ideas that will revive your hopes for a promising future after disability, resuscitate mental clarity for strength to push forward, and encourage you to open the door to the productive, fulfilling future that awaits you. It’s your choice.

Still, snow is rare in Alabama, but that doesn’t limit my experiencing it. Warren Miller Entertainment provides me vicarious thrills “catchin’ air” around the world. Mostly, they film heli-skiing and backcountry skiing, WAY beyond my expertise. But this way, everyday is a blue bird day on champagne powder for me!

“On your left!”

SWUSH!

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Dear Family,

I don’t have many disabled friends, although time and again, friends and friends-of-friends give me numbers to call of people adjusting to a disability, disease, or illness. In addition to living with a disability, my counseling experience seems the perfect fit. I can listen with an empathetic ear, answer personal questions, and offer practical solutions for daily living. Before moving away, one of these women became a dear friend.

She was a go-getter. Obstacles were met with determination. She thought of tomorrow as the result of what she made of today. She was, and I’m sure she still is, a trooper. We lost touch after she and her husband moved. It was fun with the both of us rolling around together in our homes. I hadn’t been in a room full of wheelchairs since rehab!

From all the conversations getting to know my comrades-on-wheels, with the exclusion of my friend Julie, this is what I’ve found: Most succumbed to disability.

Understandably, they were faced with the drastic lifestyle change. And, the added stress of dashed dreams, the uncertainty of tomorrow, and pressure to adjust before the impact of the new reality had sunk in, brought an emotional tailspin—depression. This is when family is most important, although it was their families that seemed to be the insurmountable barrier to their emotional freedom and physical independence.

Caustic remarks fueled emotional eruptions. Innuendos, hints, and sarcastic tones of unspoken resentments from care-giving family members were destructive to all; particularly, the ones with broken wings. They couldn’t fly away to safety, and healing. They were sentenced to flop around and be pecked by unkindnesses.

The saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” is untrue. Words wound, as well.

Family should be a safe environment nurturing us back into a productive life. Even so, it’s difficult for you who love us to stand back and watch the struggle—dressing, feeding, wheeling ourselves—when you could easily do it for us. But, we must be allowed the struggles. This not only increases our endurance but also our confidence toward independence.
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Independence requires we care for ourselves, apply make-up, or shave. Adjustment asks for time for our doubts and confusion to settle. In time, we gain confidence on the slippery slope of acceptance toward a healthy adjustment. Please encourage us to hope, to make plans for a new future. When the time comes, we will have learned we will be okay on our own. After all, this is true for anyone.

We don’t like feeling helpless. We don’t like feeling we’re a burden. Help us be neither.

We are aware that it’s a difficult adjustment for you. We do know you’re suffering, as well. Your dreams for and with us have been altered. You miss the way we were. You feel guilty because you do. It’s natural. It’s okay. You have your own adjustment. Together, we can do it.

Once we gain emotional freedom, prove our independence, and begin to laugh again, you can push us around.  We’ll accept a freebie, any day.

THANK YOU!

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Soul Soaring

What weighs 110-115 deadweight pounds and is shackled to the earth by 30 pounds of metal? ME!

I used to love leg wrestling; and I was good, weighing in at only 105 pounds. I never studied or was trained in wrestling techniques; I just knew how to take another off-balance. It’s at the waist—the center of gravity. As long as I could get one of their legs from under their center of gravity, it was my match. Whether scuffling in the yard or in water (pool, ocean, lake, or swimming hole), it made no difference, except for the landing; which brings me back to deadweight.

Thefreedictionary.com defines deadweight as, “The unrelieved weight of a heavy, motionless mass.” Yes. Motionless? Yeah, except for my Scream 5-ish open-mouth/empty eyes, ghostly white face go-i-n-g  d-o-w-n. THUD! Early on, I even did a “motionless” face-plant into my dinner plate, stimulated from a back spasm. I’m sure a couple of you resemble that.

Let’s, for a minute, cast our deadweight aside, lift-off in our weightless imaginations, and go soul-soaring. Let’s

…silently hang glide with eagles aloft cool mountain currents over verdant valleys below. Listen to the whistling wind as it strokes your hair and kisses your face.

…swish down steep powder trails on air-spring knees with ski-pole’s rhythmic propulsion and metronome timing as silent ice crystals melt on your face and crown your toboggan.

…glide silently beneath the frigid water’s surface gently tossed in its oscillating ebb and flow. Soak in voyeuristic vistas of fish’s synchronized movements as you fluidly float among them, hearing only your Darth Vader-ish breathe in surround-sound.

…with tight grip, slalom on a tranquil mornings’ smooth-as-glass cool lake waters, whose only ripple is the boat’s wake.

…take a running leap off a crusty lichen-covered boulder into the still lake thirty feet below, dropping deep, and deeper into its black abyss. Feel your chest swell as you pull the waters down to propel your body up. When you finally burst through the liquid cocoon’s surface, you gasp in depleted air!

…rise up from sweltering beach towel sunbathing to bolt across blistering foot-scorching sands. Dive into the shimmering ocean’s cooling waters.

…meditatively sit on a smooth protruding rock along the seashore. Close your eyes as crashing waves explode their exfoliating salt on your already sticky skin. Tune in to squawking seagulls soaring above the ocean’s roar. Open your eyes. Watch as they dive-bomb through the water’s surface for their favorite fare.

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…lay back on a fallen tree trunk within an autumn leaves-blanketed wood. Shhh! Listen to the rustlings of scampering squirrels playing chase, the distant call of a hawk for its mate, and the watchful doe with her fawn.

Or, feel

…the heat of summer’s sun on your skin,

…the soothing warmth of bath water or its sting on your sun-burned skin,

…melting ice cool your overheated body,

…chill-bumps,

…a mosquito bite.

Now, go back to one of these never experienced sports, a long forgotten sensation, or your favorite activity. In your mind, dwell there for an expanse of time, as the morning sun rises or evening’s sun sets, in your favorite season, alone or with a special someone. It’s your story. You’re the writer, director, cinematographer, and star.

Let your soul soar, often. It’s good for you.

 

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Wheelchair Derailment

As with any permanent disability (even a temporary impairment, illness, or disease), the path we were traveling diverges into an unfamiliar one. We don’t plan on, nor are prepared for, these life interruptions. So, what to do?

Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and David Kessler’s book, The Five Stages of Grief is a recommended read for understanding the emotional processes we journey through in order to reach the stage of acceptance. Whether it is death, disease, disability, illness, or a disaster, these stages are for anyone going through a significant loss.

Not everyone dealing with a life-altering or life-threatening issue will experience all five stages, and the stages may not occur in this particular order. As a “one-up” for anyone confronted with a traumatic event, I will vastly condense these five stages until you can read it for yourself.

1.Denial                                                                                                                                   “I’ll be fine.” “There’s been a mistake.” Something overwhelming has happened and a state of shock ensues. We’re uncertain if we can cope with this new reality, if we want to, or even why we should. Denial helps us pace our grief. As we ask, “Why?” and “Why me?” we begin the healing process.

2.Anger                                                                                                                                    Pain is disguised behind anger. Because we feel separated from normalcy by our predicament, anger connects us to something or someone—no matter how misguided. Some direct the anger at themselves; others may verbally abuse loved ones, even lash out physically. If you are family or a friend, wear an emotional bullet-proof vest or helmet for the duration. It isn’t personal.

3.Bargaining                                                                                                                               “If only” and “What if” lock us into the past where we were once safe; this allows us to time travel, back and forth, in our hurt. Bargaining is not sustainable.

4.Depression                                                                                                                               Sadness is a natural response to a loss, and the emotional detachment from life is evidence that we are looking reality in the face; but, this is not the time to try to cheer us up. However, with prolonged hopelessness, irrational or unrealistic thoughts, loss of appetite, and excessive sleep, professional intervention may be needed.

5.Acceptance                                                                                                                               Accepting a temporary or permanent condition does not mean that we believe it is an okay reality. It just means that we realize we must readjust, reorganize, and relearn to live life in a different way.

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Once we’ve made it to acceptance, there will be occasional sadness and frustration. That’s being real. Then, it’s time to think about the future. Can you do something now to get back on the track you were traveling before? If so, go for it!

I went back into speech and language pathology, with a twist. I worked with the regular population before my disability; afterward, I worked in special education. An added benefit during my adjustment was that the workplace was accessible.

If that part of your life is over, try new things. In our PC world, there is a multitude of home-based opportunities. Just don’t allow a rut to form—physically or mentally.

After ten years, I began counseling and writing. After that, I used my interior design to start a business and kept writing.  Early this summer, my first book is coming out! My life is still under construction, and my ideas continue paving new roads to travel.

Pay attention to the pop-ups on your mental screen. Is it something you regret passing up, or something you sacrificed? Is it on your bucket list, or is it a pie in the sky idea you dismissed and never reached for? They could be trying to tell you something.

“Don’t be pushed by your problems. Be led by your dreams.” (Proverb)

It’s never too late to get back on a dream’s track.

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Passionate Beauty

In my youth, beauty was a non-issue and definitely not my focus—whatever focus I did have. In the past, my life decisions were made without-a-thought, out-of-the-blue, riding-a-whim.

By the time I entered my first beauty pageant at fourteen, I was a full-blown misanthrope–I disliked and distrusted people. Their opinions carried little weight on my self-image, thoughts or actions. I did what was right in my own eyes.

This philosophy freed me from taking pride in, or credit for, others’ labels of my physical attributes. This belief system also shackled my emotional development. (I discuss these in my book, Views From My Chariot: A Wheelchair Oddity)

I gleaned from both my parents to be true to myself, to the best I understood at the time. Though, I don’t believe either of my parents read Ralph Waldo Emerson. He was of the same opinion when he said, “Insist on yourself. Never imitate.”

At sixteen, I remember my mother coming to me with an anonymous letter. The letter contained the warning that because of someone’s “rumored” lifestyle, I was going to ruin my reputation if I continued spending time with her daughter. That’s one of the hazards living in a small town. I had heard untrue rumors about me, too.

Mother read the letter aloud to me, then asked, “What do you think you should do?” My answer was that it was no one’s business what I did or who my friends were. I was going to remain her friend. Mother tore up the letter.

This was the girlfriend who informed me, as I returned from walking the ramp at a rehearsal for a pageant we both entered, “You have a big ass, but it looks good.”

It wasn’t that I really had a big butt. It was my twenty-one-inch waist that emphasized my thirty-five-inch hips filling out my red pencil pants. (It was the sixties.) Anyway, I knew she meant it as a compliment, and I didn’t take it as an insult. We were friends. She was expressing her thoughts. And, even if I did have a big butt, she thought it looked good.

The point being: I knew that people thought I was beautiful. These were the first words crossing their lips upon our meeting. Whatever part of the anatomy being appreciated, I was aware of people staring, even of strangers walking backward to get longer looks. Remember: I didn’t think people had much sense so I interpreted it as silly, just their opinion—not the absolute truth. My critical eye zoomed in on characteristics I considered problematic.I didn’t consider myself beautiful. I considered Elizabeth Taylor, Grace Kelly, and Dianne Carrol beautiful. Today, I consider Selma Hayek, Heidi Klum, Gong Li, Mellody Hobson, and Laila Ali as beautiful.

SCI is hard on the physical body. Though I would like to look as I did in my forties, even my fifties, I’m not an advocate of needless surgeries, drugs, and injected poisons. I love and respect my body’s faithful service these many years living from a wheelchair. Although the physical fact of beauty has faded, I can honestly say that I am beautiful. I now know what true beauty is, and I behold myself from a totally different standard, from a totally different perspective.

Photo MOON fullBeauty isn’t only a physical attribute. Yes, it can be seen in a human face or body and, in addition, it can be seen in the majestic full moon or a promissory rainbow, in Santana’s rock guitar and Latin percussion, or in Yo-Yo Ma with his cello. I believe the secret of beauty is in excellence—in doing or being your best.
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In being at the right place at the right time, the moon does what it was created to do; it reflects the sun. At its most glorious, it’s full. Its other phases may not be as spectacular, but to reach its splendid fullness, it waxes. Hmmm. Are you in a new phase or growing toward your fullness?

For a rainbow to form, an alignment of three things must occur: There must be water droplets in the air in front of you, the sun must be shining, and the sunlight must be behind you. As the result, as the sunlight penetrates into the front of the droplet, it bends or refracts for the first time; as it exists the back of the droplet, it bends the second time. (Double rainbows occur when the light makes a return trip through the back and out the front of the water droplets. How breathtaking is that?)

Hmmm. The beauty of a rainbow can only be observed when sunshine peeks through the clouds, after or during a rainy day.

For the virtuosos in their fields, it took passion, and practice, practice, practice. I believe the moon passionately reflects the sun, and that the rainbow is God’s passionate promise.

What makes you stand out? What is your passion, your beauty source? As a rainbow, it may be shining through a struggle making you so.

Today and tomorrow, look yourself in the mirror; behold the beautiful you. Find a feature, a mannerism, an inherent gift that you like. Whether it is the color of your hair, eyes or skin…an artistic, mathematical, musical or rhythmic talent…height, health or humor, say, “Thank you_______ (don’t be single-minded; mention a few. None are jealous.) for serving me. I love you. I AM beautiful.”

Trust me. It’s true.

Let’s talk…about you. I’m listening.

R.S.V.P.