“Do you take pride in your hurt? Does it make you seem large and tragic? Well, think about it. Maybe you’re playing a part on a great stage with only yourself as audience.”
— John Steinbeck, East of Eden
The streamers are coming down, the balloons have all been popped. And I’m nursing a sugar hangover.
The pity party is over.
While there is probably a legitimate, blinking in big Broadway lights reason for me to be angst-ridden, unhappy and the nervous kind of sick, I refuse to dwell in this negative place where I feel sorry for myself and harbor anger toward others.
I’ve been dragged kicking and screaming into accepting multiple sclerosis as part of my life. I’ll never like it. But I can live with it, this game of sabotage from both sides.
This doesn’t mean I’m putting a cork in all of the kvetching. I’m still me, after all, and will have those moments where ranting and venting just feels so damn good.
As it’s been mentioned before, this MS war is fought on many fronts — physical, mental, emotional, societal, medical. Here lately, it seems mental/emotional battle has taken center stage over the physical, probably because I am relatively symptom-free (as in, I can walk and feel most of my limbs most of the time — that is a degree of success).
So while I can’t control my emotions all the time, I can try to shift my outlook to one of positivity.
The impetus behind my attitude adjustment is the particularly nasty way I reacted to others’ problems with depression, even if it wasn’t all that public and more just an angry swelling in my chest.
What do they know about depression, I thought. What about their circumstances is so awful? They don’t know from awful.
They aren’t going through what I am.
Bitterness and self-pity are such sweet poisons that it became all too easy to keep feeding myself a daily dose of negativity.
But is it satiating? Does it change my circumstances? Is there anything beyond getting that momentary sugar rush of indignation?
Doubtful. So I’m changing my diet.
Enough with the unhealthy.