Diagnosed with Parkinson’s and suffering from the judgement disease.
{Photo: Tara Lemieux}
By Tara Lemieux.
“Every sickness has an alien quality, a feeling of invasion and loss of control that is evident in the language we use about it.” ~ Siri Hustvedt, The Shaking Woman, or A History of My Nerves
I needed to take some time for me yesterday — it was the first time in over a year that I have felt the need to stay quietly tucked away.
I love to write, as many now well know — but more so, it is so very important to me to stay connected. In an odd sense, I have grown accustomed to the energy of writing and the feedback from my readers, which has more than once uplifted me on even my most challenging of days.
In many ways, the energy shared with me each day has become the cornerstone of my gratitude. It is that very gratitude that holds my connection so firmly to hope and hope is something we all need along the way.
I do not care how tough you think you might or ought to be. Hope is just as necessary as the air that we breathe.
And, I have done a hell of a lot of breathing lately.
Suffice it to say, and back to my earlier point, for me, not writing is generally an indication of something awfully big going on.
And, awfully big it was. So much so, that I turned my energy inwards to a space that I felt needed me more. I think we very much need to make these special allowances for ourselves — to offer our spirits the same care we might share with others, so that in the end, whatever ‘it’ is, we can brush it off, breathe again… and soldier on.
We need these moments, that space… to assess our circumstances and to make adjustments so that we may remain grounded in even the most unsettling of chaos.
This is what I did with my yesterday.
I often view my life as one big, long, endless meditation — applying only those pieces of my practice that most support a softening and settling in.
And, it has nothing to do with walls or barriers or preconceived notions of acceptance and tolerance. It just is.
I was recently diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease, which is a progressive, and incurable, neurodegenerative disorder, affecting primarily my interaction with the rest of this world. Because scientists are not yet sure about the cause, treatment can prove to be quite tricky at best, and as evidenced by this travel bag of medication I now carry with me each day.
Want to know where I was a little more than a year ago? Drinking green smoothies and popping an occasional aspirin.
Life can certainly come at you fast. That is why it is so very important to slow down, to breathe, to relax.
I mean, how do you expect to soften when your body is pulled so tightly to tense up?
But I digress…
My dears, as part of this settling in, I have had to make a few very important decisions. Some, I suppose, were much easier. For example, “How will I keep up my beautiful garden?”
And others were a little more difficult…
Who will take care of my kids?
How will I continue to make ends meet?
What happens next?
You see, there is an aspect of balance that never gets taught on a yoga mat. It is learned by way of living our lives. Falling hard and getting back up again. Learning to let go and move on from even our deepest of wounds.
And, you have to tend to those wounds.
My tending included whittling down my personal Facebook page to only those closest to me, and so that I might have the means to communicate more freely all of these things that they are asking of me.
In doing so, I inadvertently stepped on a few toes. One set of these belongs to a writer who posted an article about the ugliness of my actions. In this article, she referred to my actions as immature — attaching only her perception to the reality at hand.
She reacted without ever knowing. As a result, I feel obliged to share these details of my life with all of you right here.
To some, my actions may be viewed as ‘self-ish’… but I rather like to think of them as ‘self-nurturing’ instead.
‘Self-ish’ implies an inability to look outside of ourselves and at the needs of others — to see that we are all part of one human family… and to lose sight of this most sacred connection.
I promise you, my dears, no matter how great the challenge, your most beautiful spirits shall never be diminished in meaning. And, I promise you for the rest of my time here on earth, I shall continue to give my love unconditionally.
Likewise, I may sometimes need a little rest. My only hope is that you will understand.
And, to the person I have most certainly unsettled: my dear, this is my life, my disease, my decision, and, I get to choose the best way to handle it.
That does not make us aggressive, hate-filled ogres. It simply means that we are human.
And, in the end, I’d rather be a stumbling, shaking mess, than to suffer this disease called ‘judgement.’
*****
Tara Lemieux is a mindful wanderer, and faithful stargazer. Although she often appears to be listening with great care, rest assured she is most certainly ‘forever lost in thought.’ She is an ardent explorer, and lover of finding things previously undiscovered or, at the very least, mostly not-uncovered. Just like a butterfly, she is ready to spread her newly painted wings and fly to wherever the universe may carry her. But most, and best of all — Tara is a writer, always in search of a faithful ear. If after all of this, you still wish to seek Tara out, you can find her rambling on at TaraLemieux.com, blogging happily at Mindful Musings, or blissfully connecting on her personal Facebook Page. Whichever path you may choose, Tara will greet you warmly and always with much happiness..
*****
{Watcha got there?}
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