When you’re ill, you get a lot of advice. Good, meaningful
advice. You get advice because people think you need it. And they are one
hundred percent correct. Ironically though, I suspect that when we need advice
the most, we are able to take it in the least. Or maybe this problem belongs to
only the stubborn some like me.
Like most good advice, you know it is good for you. And like most good advice, it is hard to follow.
And like most good advice, I hope I will remember it when I need it most – when I lack energy and enthusiasm. For the momentum of today is always the momentum of today and I hope I will always live it… even if it is only to the extent I can...
Whether or not I have followed the advice, I have always
listened carefully. And whether or not I have followed the advice, many wise
words will stick with me forever. And I
am grateful for those words. And I am grateful to those who have taken the time
and cared enough to share those words with me. Perhaps something inside me has
changed. Perhaps I value advice more. Perhaps, I’m able to take it in better.
And perhaps I shall write another piece on our inability to
take in advice. But for now, I want to share a sound piece of advice my friend,
who is a cancer survivor, shared with me some years ago. It surprises me that I
took it to heart and even tried to live it - despite the fact that it came
early in my illness, when I mostly tried to deflect all advice.
My friend’s advice was to not wait to get healthy to start
living my life; but to do everything I could whilst I got better. Sure there
would be limitations to the things I would be able to do. But she advised me to
not feel so crippled by illness that I should put my life and living on hold
altogether. Waiting for a golden day in the future when all the pieces would suddenly
come together and when I would feel as good as new seemed elusive and it would
be foolish to remain miserable or limited till that golden day arrived. If ever
it arrived even. (Remember she dealt with cancer? This was certainly not stuff
I wanted to hear, but thankfully, I was unable to deflect it.)
So to the extent possible, I have tried to do that.
Sometimes it is successful. Sometimes it is a bust. Sometimes it gets me into
trouble (for doing more than I can). But I am grateful to my friend for
sharing these wise words with me.
And illness or not, I think we need this advice no matter
what. For very often, we put things on hold deciding to do them when the
situation is better, or altered, or different. I’ll wear that dress when my
tummy is flatter, or wait till my child is off to college to do that… are a
few lines I have heard that have reminded me of my friend’s advice. Like most good advice, you know it is good for you. And like most good advice, it is hard to follow.
And like most good advice, I hope I will remember it when I need it most – when I lack energy and enthusiasm. For the momentum of today is always the momentum of today and I hope I will always live it… even if it is only to the extent I can...
Dear Ruta,
ReplyDeleteIt isn't just you who can't take advice when you need it most. Every time Akhil or Amrit or I have an outburst/tantrum/big feeling, I've noticed that. Have you heard about the disconnect that happens between the higher brain/cerebral cortex and the lower/reptilian brain/limbic system when one is under stress? Of course I heard about it in the context of relatively short duration stress - such as pain/fear/hunger/anger - but I can only vaguely guess at the stress that a chronic illness brings and how it might impair one's ability to engage the higher brain. When I lose it and later look back, I realize it felt like I was observing myself from outside. As if there was this raging monster and then there was me just looking on. While I take responsibility for all I said/did when I was angry, I try not to be too hard on myself. Instead I am trying to learn how to recognize that moment of "snap" before it happens and try to reduce my stress level to avoid it entirely. Of course easier said than done, and much easier in my low-stress, short-duration-stress case than yours.
Good luck sister! I hope you'll remember that how you react isn't all "you". The real you is the same sweet, enthusiastic, Ruta I've known. The Ruta who'd believe that "there is good beneath the mess". (Can you tell that I read both of your latest posts just now and am responding to both in a sense.)
Sorry! Don't know why that went out as unknown. It was moi.
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