One of the hardest things for friends with debilitating illness is to accept its limitations. Inspirational writer Oriah Mountain Dreamer graciously allowed me to share this post from her blog, The Green Bough, about a day last year when she came face to face with her denial. And turned it into a lesson. More on Oriah after the post.
By Oriah Mountain Dreamer
Today, is the shortest day of the year. I think of the dark as a place for rest and dreaming, but it can also be the place where we confront or are clobbered by the shadow- those aspect of self and life we try to ignore or bury.
Last week I was confronted by my own denial. My insistence that I could do something beyond the physical capacity of a body with a chronic degenerative neurological disease resulted in a precipitous drop in blood pressure and an extended period of tachycardia with a heart rate around two hundred beats per minute.
Yeah. Not fun. And that was before I was informed that the situation that made my apartment uninhabitable would not be corrected for six full days.
I broke down. I knew I couldn’t do what others were telling me had to be done. I knew it was not physically possible.
I was conditioned from an early age to look and sound “fine” even when I am not. To do otherwise risked violence from my mother. My ex-husband once pointed out that I could be lying on the floor in pain, unable to walk to the bedroom, but if someone called and he put the phone in my hand, I would sound just “fine.” It’s my default setting, a survival strategy.
So, in some ways, not sounding fine- and really, it was a full tilt meltdown in the lobby of the building- was a breakthrough. In response, the kind couple who are the supers in my building went into action, offered support, and advocated on my behalf so my apartment would be habitable within one day.
Having seen my denial, the challenge is to accurately see and accept the changing limitations of my body, and still maintain my faith in the goodness of life. Sounds simple, but it’s not always easy when there is pain and immobility. Living in the present moment deepens our lives. But, people’s lives are busy and we are social animals, so we make plans- to meet for lunch, to share Christmas dinner, to take a trip. The truth is I cannot know what I will or will not be able to do tomorrow. This is simply what is.
We all have stuff to work with, and this- the disease, the unpredictability of what I will be able/unable to do, the periods of pain and prostration- this is what I have to work with.
Tomorrow the days start to get a little longer as the light returns. My prayer is to take what I have seen in the darkness with me into the growing light. And I offer that prayer for us all individually and collectively. May our eyes be open to see what is. May our hearts be open so we can hold what is with a fierce love that chooses life fully even as we refuse to look away from that which hard.
Oriah is a writer, a storyteller, and a brutally honest first person essayist. You may have encountered Oriah as I did in 1994 through her fierce (and famous) prose poem, The Invitation, that begins “It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living, I want to know what you ache for…” You can find it on her website, here, You can buy it or her other books on Amazon. Subscribe to the Green Bough, her blog, here.
I love everything about this post. Sometimes facing our limitations is one of the strongest things we can do.
I was raised in a family that basically said “we all have problems, keep yours to yourself” so I internalized a lot of things and it wasn’t healthy. Even when I was married, everything was “fine’ and it really wasn’t. When my son was born I tried to change, but some habits are hard to break. Now it’s me and my son on our own and I’ve started working on it, and I’ve definitely taught him NOT to internalize and to talk to me, which he does. I may not be able to full break my habits, but I’m working on breaking the pattern my family has carried on for so long
I can only speak for Americans since I am such, but it is like a saying “how are you doing” and people expect you to say you are “fine” because even if you tell the truth we dont believe people will empathize. So its like a conditioned response but its ok not to be fine sometimes but it is also ok for our own self to try to make ourselves better when other just want to just be “fine”.
I moved to Germany over 25 years ago and in the beginning I used to go around and asking friends and colleagues “Hi there how are you?” just like we all do in the US. They kind of looked at me strangely but would always reply honestly. “Ok but you know I am not 100% fine!” or something along those lines. I was taken aback as in the US we are kind of trained to always give the impression that everything is fine and here I was faced with blunt honesty. 25 years later I still ask people around how they are doing but I take the time to listen to them as i know it is ok not to be fine all the time. Great post!
I feel so much pain in every words while reading this story. It is very painful losing someone you love. And it is a long process of recovery.
I think “I’m fine” is our go to answer when there’s nothing to be gained by thrashing through it all time after time. It also comes in handy when what is wrong with you isn’t really a pleasant topic of conversation.
I feel so strongly for those who have to go through this for years – even a short dip into chronic illness or sadness is too much at times, long term takes so much courage.
Nobody is always fine, all the time! It’s a myth that we have to be happy and fine all the time….It’s important to acknowledge that and embrace those moments!
What a real and raw post. I always question my siblings when they say they are just fine when I know they are really not!
I wonder if we just say “just fine” for others, in fear of being impolite or a burden if we speak the truth. I have so often said “I’m fine” just to brush off a topic that I know my friend wasn’t actually comfortable talking about.
That would be pretty terrifying. It is good to know your limits, I think you are learning that!
In this society it is very difficult to appear vulnerable. Your post gives a voice to people who need one.
Many people say they are fine, I believe in some cases it’s because they’re private, or feel they might be bothering the person asking if they reply truthfully. Everyone needs to break down once in a while.
People will always expect you to answer the same thing, that’ you’re fine and that you have no woes. This is why it’s so difficult to others to open up about how they truly feel and what they’re going through. We should start changing this.
It’s actually freeing to find that others are like me. Or I am like them. Not always fine.
I am still down about some new i recently received. Denial is in full swing right now.
Sometimes things change us. My mother passed away 10 years ago, and I haven’t been the same since.
I think I am fine but you can always be better. People ask how you are but don’t really want to know the gory details so we say “I am fine”. I will feel better when it warms up and we have more sunlight.
“Look and sound fine…To do otherwise risked violence from my mother.” Yep, I know that one too. We are conditioned from an early age and aren’t prepared for when things really aren’t fine. I wish you joy and strength and as much healing as possible. Thanks for a great post!
I think with dealing with something major, we always say “fine” because we assume they are asking to be polite. Not because they really care.
Nobody is always fine. It was a stigma in my family to acknowledge we were not ok …. And we´re not alone in feeling all is not fine!
I think that we all have trouble with telling people that we are not fine. In this society when you asked somebody how they are doing your knee-jerk responses “fine”. I think it’s better to be honest so that people do know how you feel and how your day is going because sometimes you just need help.
I think that’s why the question “how are you” is so flawed. There’s really no way to answer it honestly because it’s asked as part of small talk. We should be asking more open ended questions of our friends to truly see how they are doing.
As always, Oriah gets to the heart of the matter, our hearts. We hide behind our shields, when maybe, we should be lowering them.
I think this is very well written. It’s not easy to express how we truly feel when we were raised to hide behind a smile even if we’re breaking apart inside. I definitely know how that feels.
I can’t even imagine what it’s like to go through something like this. I would always hope that if I had a family or friend going through an illness that they’d be honest and not just say they are fine.
I love this post. I love that you continue to persevere using what you have. We all need to remember that it’s important to push ourselves to be better, but we can only do what we can do. To try to push ourselves to something that we actually cannot do only leads to frustration and bad feelings.
Everyone says just fine. Honestly most people don’t want to hear the real answers. Just what we say.
I’m not fine. I haven’t been since my mom passed last year. I honestly doubt I will ever be the same.
No,we are never the same after a huge loss…my heart goes out to you.
Oh Robin, I’m so sorry. I lost my Dad almost eight years ago and I don’t think I will ever be fine again. It is comforting to know that others understand the struggle.