i'm a broken record- aren't i? either i'm overwhelmed by the same zoe issues again and again, or i'm finding some piece of peace, or i'm amazed at some insight i gained from hearing the stories of peoples lives. or i'm commenting on the weather. sorry.
80 degrees sunny, little green and red buds, fragrant viney flowers, each day showing a little more of themselves.
today i'm not overwhelmed- i do feel at peace-and can i say it is scrumptious outside?.... truly scrumptious- (like the character from chitty-chitty-bang-bang). and it is going to be a story about something i learned from another person's life.
yesterday in clinic i saw a man with lung cancer- he's now oxygen dependent. in case you don't know what that means, he has to wear this plastic tubing in his nostrils that stays there by looping around each ear and then trailing down his neck to the canister that he can carry like a bag or pulls on wheels. being in the medical business i barely notice them- i don't think of it as a big deal- i don't attach particular meaning to it.
but he does. to him, it symbolizes weakness, change, illness, identity loss, dependence. it came up because he was telling me that he doesn't go to church anymore, and on further questioning, he doesn't go anywhere anymore-except to the VA- except for treatment. it turns out that he is so embarrassed by those plastic tubes, that he can't leave his house. the thing is- he's not a home-body. he's not that guy who likes to say home- but he can't go to the next room without the oxygen or he can't breathe. so this poses a problem - this- for him- is suffering.
i can understand it. it's not new. it's walking around with your underwear showing. it's what happens when you are stuck not being able to hide behind a perfect exterior, behind the illusion that everything is OK, that it is well with my soul, that we're not damaged, that we're not handicapped.
handicap- an impediment- a limitation- a disability- not being able to perform because of being unfit- to put at a disadvantage.
we all have them, but for most of us, they're invisible. it's the emperor's new clothes again.
i reminded him that he is the same guy with the oxygen. he tells the same jokes, he loves the same woman, he sings the same songs, the same things make him smile, his eyes tell the same stories. i told him that i know it's hard. that i have a child who sometimes does things or says things that make me feel that feeling- of belonging to a club i didn't mean to sign up for. that i sometimes see the world through her eyes- eyes that wear glasses and see her left shoulder sticking up, or her inability to get the joke, or not be able to refrain from flapping her arms when she's excited. i imagine that as she goes on through her life- she will have more of these moments. we are always our own biggest critic- we see caricatures of ourselves- too skinny- too fat- too short- too goofy- large swallowing oxygen tubes. we don't just see ourselves as mildly broken people who are trying. people who all have struggles- challenges- limitations- disadvantages. the thing is - the handicaps you can't see- those can be the most damaging. the weakness of the soul- the neediness- the selfishness- the vanity of our focus.
there have been times and i've written about them, when i've not gone somewhere out of fear. i've made decisions to avoid places or people because of how i might feel if zoe has a meltdown- to avoid that feeling of being ashamed. but it's still a bad feeling. because you're home, knowing you're hiding out, and you feel badly, but you're now feeling badly and isolated. but when you can take the plunge and embrace your differences- when you can take the risk of the world having to acknowledge that you are in fact, not perfect- you are then free. and even if you're embarrassed- even if people see her do the wiggly dance and scream because there is a surprise attack from a vacuum - even if you're now the tough marine vet who wears oxygen- you're free. not alone. not isolated. not assuming. you're connecting- you're reminding the world that life can go on- even when our picture of normal changes.
i told him it was his choice- but it was a choice. isolation or dealing with an altered image. isolation or taking a risk. i hope he chooses being free.
earlier that day, one of my old favorites, an avid motorcycle rider- had told me he just converted his bike to a trike. he added another wheel so he could ride safely- because his balance is off- he can't ride his 2 wheeler anymore. i was so proud of him. he values his riding- he values that freedom- but he acknowledges the reality that it wasn't safe anymore. he could have chosen to hang up his helmet- but he didn't.
so i'll try to remember to take the risk. to be bold. to not avoid. and to grow that in zoe.
and i'll try to remember my many handicaps that hide themselves so well inside of me- but are none the less- handicaps.
80 degrees sunny, little green and red buds, fragrant viney flowers, each day showing a little more of themselves.
today i'm not overwhelmed- i do feel at peace-and can i say it is scrumptious outside?.... truly scrumptious- (like the character from chitty-chitty-bang-bang). and it is going to be a story about something i learned from another person's life.
yesterday in clinic i saw a man with lung cancer- he's now oxygen dependent. in case you don't know what that means, he has to wear this plastic tubing in his nostrils that stays there by looping around each ear and then trailing down his neck to the canister that he can carry like a bag or pulls on wheels. being in the medical business i barely notice them- i don't think of it as a big deal- i don't attach particular meaning to it.
but he does. to him, it symbolizes weakness, change, illness, identity loss, dependence. it came up because he was telling me that he doesn't go to church anymore, and on further questioning, he doesn't go anywhere anymore-except to the VA- except for treatment. it turns out that he is so embarrassed by those plastic tubes, that he can't leave his house. the thing is- he's not a home-body. he's not that guy who likes to say home- but he can't go to the next room without the oxygen or he can't breathe. so this poses a problem - this- for him- is suffering.
i can understand it. it's not new. it's walking around with your underwear showing. it's what happens when you are stuck not being able to hide behind a perfect exterior, behind the illusion that everything is OK, that it is well with my soul, that we're not damaged, that we're not handicapped.
handicap- an impediment- a limitation- a disability- not being able to perform because of being unfit- to put at a disadvantage.
we all have them, but for most of us, they're invisible. it's the emperor's new clothes again.
i reminded him that he is the same guy with the oxygen. he tells the same jokes, he loves the same woman, he sings the same songs, the same things make him smile, his eyes tell the same stories. i told him that i know it's hard. that i have a child who sometimes does things or says things that make me feel that feeling- of belonging to a club i didn't mean to sign up for. that i sometimes see the world through her eyes- eyes that wear glasses and see her left shoulder sticking up, or her inability to get the joke, or not be able to refrain from flapping her arms when she's excited. i imagine that as she goes on through her life- she will have more of these moments. we are always our own biggest critic- we see caricatures of ourselves- too skinny- too fat- too short- too goofy- large swallowing oxygen tubes. we don't just see ourselves as mildly broken people who are trying. people who all have struggles- challenges- limitations- disadvantages. the thing is - the handicaps you can't see- those can be the most damaging. the weakness of the soul- the neediness- the selfishness- the vanity of our focus.
there have been times and i've written about them, when i've not gone somewhere out of fear. i've made decisions to avoid places or people because of how i might feel if zoe has a meltdown- to avoid that feeling of being ashamed. but it's still a bad feeling. because you're home, knowing you're hiding out, and you feel badly, but you're now feeling badly and isolated. but when you can take the plunge and embrace your differences- when you can take the risk of the world having to acknowledge that you are in fact, not perfect- you are then free. and even if you're embarrassed- even if people see her do the wiggly dance and scream because there is a surprise attack from a vacuum - even if you're now the tough marine vet who wears oxygen- you're free. not alone. not isolated. not assuming. you're connecting- you're reminding the world that life can go on- even when our picture of normal changes.
i told him it was his choice- but it was a choice. isolation or dealing with an altered image. isolation or taking a risk. i hope he chooses being free.
earlier that day, one of my old favorites, an avid motorcycle rider- had told me he just converted his bike to a trike. he added another wheel so he could ride safely- because his balance is off- he can't ride his 2 wheeler anymore. i was so proud of him. he values his riding- he values that freedom- but he acknowledges the reality that it wasn't safe anymore. he could have chosen to hang up his helmet- but he didn't.
so i'll try to remember to take the risk. to be bold. to not avoid. and to grow that in zoe.
and i'll try to remember my many handicaps that hide themselves so well inside of me- but are none the less- handicaps.
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