I'm old enough to have earned the right to be comfortable in my own skin, and I had a few good years of doing just that. They were the best years ever. Then came Parkinson's Disease--that burglar, that thief, that enemy!
PD broke in uninvited, and is in the process of taking what it wants, and I feel helpless to stop it. Every day I watch it walk out the door with something that belongs to me. This week, it was my confidence, and it just makes me so mad!
People can tell me that I'm still the same me, and I should still be confident all they want to, but it simply doesn't work that way. It's just so much jibber-jabber from well-meaning people who want to help me feel better. (If that's you, by the way, thank you -- I really do appreciate the good wishes. I'm just on a momentary rant tonight. Bear with me...)
The fact is, my self-confidence walked out the door with PD. I watched it going and I couldn't stop it. When I am in new situations, trying to present myself professionally, my first prayer is that I won't stumble or fall. My next concern is about tremors showing, and about my leg visibly shaking. And, of course, I'm always concerned that I don't limp, and that I'm too slow. These are the years I'm supposed to be comfortable and confident -- I specifically remember earning that right. This week, I am particularly angry that PD stole it away.
If I have to walk across wide open spaces, I am self-conscious about being slow or limping. If I have to step into a small space, I look for something to grab onto in case I lose my balance. If I have to do something that requires coordination, or fasten something small, I am not certain I can accomplish it. If I have to write something, I try to hide it because I know it looks atrocious. (I used to have teacher handwriting, so that makes me especially mad.)
I may someday say that I am glad God gave me PD because ____________, but I am telling you right now that I will never make friends with PD, and it will never cease to be the enemy. I don't want to get used to it. I don't want to accept it. I don't want to learn to live with it. Maybe that's one of the steps of grief, I can't remember, but it doesn't matter. I don't want to get to that point. I'm not okay with PD.
While I'm never going to make friends with it, at the same time, I DO want to someday be able to stand up and say, "Thank you, God, for using this physical infirmity to develop XYZ characteristic in my life." I know that's a fine line to walk, but it's one I'm going to try to find. Can I be thankful for what develops in my life based on an infirmity, while at the same time declaring the disease to be the enemy? I think I can.
In the meantime, I feel confident in saying, "Parkinson's Disease, you're not welcome here!" And I know my cat agrees with me, even if no one else does. Thank you, Molly!
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