Sunday, 11 November 2012

Strength: Day 11 #NHBPM

                                                                                            Source: gubernatrix.co.uk via Baby on Pinterest

For the past 11 days I have not only been typing away furiously (or incoherently, depending on my pain and brain fog levels) but also reading till my eyes hurt. This blogging challenge has lead me to discover a raft of other blogs on a variety of conditions. Some are written by patients, others by their family or carers. Some are humorous. Some poignant. Some leave me in tears and other educate me about disorders with which I have little to no experience. But throughout all of them the overriding theme that jumps out at me is Strength.

People with chronic illness and those who care for them, are strong. Even when times get tough they pick themselves up and carry on. They share their voice and intentionally or unintentionally share their strength with those who read. For every person who reads that post a little of their strength rubs off. It transfers to the reader and helps them carry on. It tells them they are not alone. That what they face, even if a completely different diagnosis or life circumstance, they too can make it through. Because we all share the same fears, the same thoughts. Specific details may vary but the shared experience binds us. 

The shared voice of this event has been raw and honest. Every person who has shared a little of their world has claimed their voice and all those collective voices roar. 

There is a Japanese proverb that I came across the other day on Twitter

Fall seven times. Stand up eight.

At the time I thought it was the perfect Dysautonomia proverb. Apt literally and figuratively. But after reading all these different voices I think it is apt for all those who share the path of chronic illness. Illness isn't filled with rainbows and unicorns. It's not permanently perky, nor permanently pessimistic. It's a roller coaster that can throw new and unpleasant obstacles in your path at any time. It can be scary and painful. It can challenge who you are and how you relate to the world around you. But there is also light and joy and laughter. It's choosing to accept and manage the reality as well as knowing that life goes on and you can pick yourself up, dust yourself off and smile. It's also daring to share that truth with the world.

That is strength. It's dirty. It's gritty. It's raw and it's honest. And it's beautiful to behold.

Cheers
Michelle :)

Love the lyrics to this Foo Fighters song. Sometimes I'm in the mood for this acoustic version but I also love to play the belt it out rock version.

5 comments:

  1. I'm sitting here in tears - you say it so well. I know I don't recognise the strength in myself very much and I know I need to do it more - it's hard to think you're strong when your illness makes it seem like you're really weak.

    I'm really proud of everyone that has been taking part of this challenge. Such a constructive idea.

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  2. Moved by your post. Actually thought of that quote today. You are a beautiful writer. xo

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  3. Never ever stop writing, even if some days it just stays in your head. You have a gift at transforming experience into words that strike a chord. I have a son with POTS and you have done a striking job of helping me understand his life. Grateful mom.

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  4. Just wanted to thank you for your blogging. I have been out of work do to my dysautonomia and it's nice to know there is someone out there who can relate and put light on the situation.

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All who are lovely enough to comment should be showered with cup cakes, glitter and macarons. I promise to use my spoon bending mind powers to try and get that happening for all who are lovely enough to share their words. Those who go the extra step to share posts should really get a free unicorn. Or at least the gift of finding the shortest and quickest line at the supermarket on a regular basis. xx