My new favorite Brazilian reality show is “Mom Knows Best?” where mothers and children compete for prize money based on how well they know each other. Two of the mothers have LGBTQ+ children. One of the mothers says she accepts her lesbian daughter, and in the next breath says she prays that God will change the daughter. The other mother is visibly hurt because of the perceived non-acceptance. How can you say you truly accept your child, if you pray they will be changed? I was equally upset by the “yes, but” attitude of the first mother. Then, I realized how I had the same lack of acceptance in my own life.
Struggling with my autoimmune diagnosis, I realized I have a “yes, but” of my own. I know I need to accept my diagnosis and the state of my body. There is no cure. This is my reality now, and in all honesty, it has been my unrecognized reality for decades. I mentally accept the diagnosis. I am making changes in my life because of this new reality. Yet in the background lurks my “big but” that things will change.
This past Monday was a great day. I had energy. I was able to drive to the mall and back. I was able to have a business meeting in Spanish at the bank. I walked the marina with my dog. I had a full day out and I felt good. I thought, “Awesome! My body is changing. I am getting better.” Then Tuesday came. I couldn’t drive. I couldn’t think. I was a blob on the couch. Along with exhaustion came anger. I want things to change. I want to overcome this illness. I want to have consistent energy. I want a different reality than what I have.
To get to true acceptance, I need to first accept that this is not going to be over, and second that this is not going to be resolved to my liking.
This is not going to be over. This is not a phase or a season. This is my reality now and in the future. We are in the middle of hurricane season in Mexico. For a few months, I can watch the forecasts, seal the house, buy extra food and water, and I can be in the mindset that this too shall pass. The rainy season will be here for a few months and then we will be back to paradise. This is not the case with my body. My illness is not for a season. My illness will be with me for the rest of my living years.
This is not going to be resolved to my liking. My entire life I have strove to be better, to improve myself, to overcome. I could see a new way to be, and I fought to let go of unwanted behaviors and adopt new positive ones. This is not possible now. Exercise, diet, medication, meditation, yoga, QiGong, and a host of other tools can help my symptoms, but none of them will change my diagnosis. None of them will stop flare-ups from happening. There is nothing I can do to make my body be what I want it to be.
I wondered why I could not accept this new reality. Logically I understand that this is how things will be from this moment forward. On a deeper level, I could not accept it because I view my worth in the things that I DO. I believe I am only valuable in what I can accomplish. I am valuable because I am independent and don’t need help. I am valuable because I help others. I am valuable because I can manage a business. The new reality is that I can no longer accomplish what I used to, I need to ask for help, and I can not always help others. To truly accept my current situation, I need to accept that I am inherently worthy no matter what I DO.
For years I helped others with this challenge. Many of the mothers I worked with could not see their worth. I would ask them if their one-year-old was not valuable because they were not earning a living. Of course, the mother would say no, yet they could not see themselves as inherently valuable in the same way. Now I find myself in the same situation. Over the years titles and professions were stripped, and I learned my value without outside recognition. Now my ability to DO is being stripped and to find true love and acceptance of myself, I need to embrace my inherent value without outside efforts and outcomes.
When I wrote my book, From Type A to Type Me, I focused on letting go of things I thought were necessary but unpleasant. In becoming Type Me, I needed to uncover and embrace what makes me me and to release all external obligations and expectations. I chose to stop doing what was not mine. I learned how to “Stop Doing” things that were not genuine to me, things that felt like joyless obligations, things that were solely societal expectations. I stopped doing and I stopped doing until all that was left were the things I wanted to do, I chose to do, I found joy in doing. I also learned how to put myself and my relationships above the act of doing.
The last few years, my life has focused on the second half of my book’s subtitle. I began exploring what it looked like to truly “Start Living.” What is life like without the concept of doing? What does it mean to actually LIVE each and every day? To learn how to live, I had to learn how to be in the moment. Spending time regretting the past or fearing the future is not living. Living happens in the present. To live we breath, we feel, we taste, we smell, we hear, we love. Living is a state of being, not the state of doing. My illness is helping me stay still and be. My illness is helping me be in the moment. My illness is washing away all that is not real. Ironically it is not easy to live because, like all of us, I am coated in the constructs of societal and familial expectations. Part of learning to live is releasing everything created by society. Living is becoming a free child again, playing, creating, being.
Take five minutes today and live. Put down your phone. Slow your heart rate. Release your thoughts. Sit in nature. Listen. See without judging. Smell. Notice. Perceive life as it is in the moment.
