What Is Being Done For You?

I looked down at my 13 year old son at my feet, tying my shoelaces. The weather had turned cold, and I could no longer wear slip-on shoes without socks. I had avoided this for so long, knowing I couldn’t bend over to put on or tie my own shoes. I was slightly mortified, but more so, I didn’t want my kids to see how much pain I was really in; they were too young to be worrying about a parent’s health.

We made eye contact briefly. I could tell my son was uncomfortable by how quickly he looked away.

“Don’t worry mommy,” said my 9 year old daughter, who was standing nearby, ready to go. “The doctor will fix you and you will be better soon.” She smiled at me hopefully. She was always optimistic, always the cheerleader.

My son finished tying my shoelaces up, and I sat down on the top step so I could get out the door. Walking down even three small steps had become impossible. Somehow, we made it into the car and were on our way. I put the music up to avoid questions and distract my thoughts. Things were getting worse and I wasn’t sure what was going to happen.

I’m not sure the doctor can fix me this time, I thought to myself.

Years before I had been diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder. I had managed fairly well but about nine months before the shoe-tying incident, my health had taken a sudden turn for the worse, and I couldn’t get ahead of it no matter what I did. I went from believing I could get healthy again to thinking my life as I knew it was essentially over.

I knew I didn’t have a terminal illness and that there were other people out there suffering a lot worse than I was. I knew that. But here I was, suddenly unable to put my own shoes on, stay awake past 8 pm, button a button, or walk up the stairs. And it terrified me. That fear eventually led to sadness and anger – and hopelessness.

I was confiding in a friend about how I was feeling, and she (gently) suggested to me that I was acting like a victim rather than seeking ways to get well. “I’ve tried everything,” I protested. Which was true: holistic medicine, natural remedies, chiropractors, acupuncture, traditional medication, changing what I ate. You name it. I looked fine and was tired of explaining how horrible I felt, how much pain I was in. How very sick I was feeling. And how nothing was helping.

“Did you ever think,” she continued cautiously, “that maybe this is being done for you, rather than to you? That there is a reason for this?”

I sucked in my breath. No, I hadn’t considered that. Why would I? I could barely move most days, and I was trying to hide it from my kids and anyone I came into contact with. I had no time to think that this suffering could be a gift. How could it?

But what she said to me niggled at me for days. In my most quiet, desperate moments of pain in the middle of the night, I would hear her voice . . . what if this is being done for you?

I prayed to understand where – exactly – was the gift in all of this?

Desperate to feel hopeful again, I tried to change my thinking. Instead of hiding how sick I was or complaining about how hopeless I felt, I started to share my story. I started to feel my feelings instead of burying them. And I was simply amazed at how many other people were silently suffering – not just from an autoimmune disease – but from different sicknesses, both mental and physical. Suddenly, through private messages, texts, and phone calls, there was a small but mighty community of support – and hope.

Suddenly, a lot of us weren’t so isolated anymore.

The anger started to dissipate. The depression and hopelessness started to lift. It is very (very) difficult not to feel like a victim when you can’t perform daily tasks, or when you lose a loved one, or even when you feel that you are not on the right path to your life’s purpose. It’s easy to fall into the victim mentality, to feel sorry for yourself, and to think that things will never change.

But things can change – in a day or in a week or even a year. And transitions lead to transformations.

Nothing is forever. And I’ve found that how we approach our situation gives us more control than whatever we perceive is being done to us. Many times, these trials and tribulations are being done FOR us. They are a gift. It’s almost impossible to see that, and it was my challenge for a full year to adjust my perspective. And, truthfully, this challenge remains daily.

I certainly don’t have all the answers, but there were a few things that helped me change my thinking and move through the challenges:

1. Redefine Success. Sometimes, just getting up and getting your kids dressed, fed, and to school is an accomplishment. Acknowledge that, and don’t think about all the things you “could” be doing or “should” be doing. Tomorrow will be here soon enough.

2. You Can’t Pour from an Empty Cup. Taking care of your mental and physical health is paramount if you are also going to be a good partner, parent, employee, or friend. There is nothing selfish about putting your health first. In fact, it’s critical to being your best self.

3. Compare and Despair. Looking around at what other people are doing or accomplishing is a sure recipe for further mental and physical angst. Shutting off the TV, radio, and social media may be necessary to just focus on you and what you need to move through the day or the week. Put the blinders on and just take the next step.

4. Your Journey Matters. We all have a different purpose in life, and each one of us will step into that purpose at the right time. Just because others may have found their purpose earlier doesn’t mean you won’t ever find yours. And sometimes, we have to go through the trials in order to better understand what our gifts are and what we are meant to do while we are here on this earth.

5. Know What’s Right for You. Prayer, meditation, exercise, eating a certain way, being outdoors, playing music, reading – whatever it is that makes your soul happy – do it. Ignore the noise around you. Many times people want to give advice, and even though it usually comes from a good place, only you know what works best for you at that moment. And even that may change the next day. Be fluid, be flexible, and listen to your inner voice as you work toward healing or toward your new normal.

Transitions are hard, but I have found that there are gifts along the way. Through my journey, I have learned patience and compassion toward myself and others who have physical limitations. I have found courage and grit I never knew I had. I have taught my children perseverance through example.

I have become less judgmental toward myself and toward others. I have become so much more grateful for the littlest things – simple things like being able to turn over in bed without pain, bending down to put on socks and shoes, buttoning my daughter’s school uniform, and standing at the stove to cook dinner. These were things I absolutely took for granted before.

I don’t know where the next few months or years will take me, but I do know this: we are not victims. Although life can be cruel and unfair, these trials and tribulations can have a meaningful purpose in our lives – and the lives of those around us – when we are ready to embrace them as gifts.

That in itself is a journey, albeit a difficult one at that. But transitions lead to transformations, and there are gifts along the way.