Whatever Doesn't Kill You Will Change You...
D. stopped by this a.m. for coffee.
He's one of those "peripherial male friends," the kind that I meet here and there, or chat with from time to time, who don't necessarily fit in with my Approved Social Group (although that's changing, too.)
Like my friend Wm., who I met while he was working at the local Army/Navy store, who I lost touch with a couple of months' back because he became insufferable after he was dismissed from the Army/Navy store...
but I digress...
D calls usually every couple of weeks, and likes to stop by for coffee and to chat about something. He's got a big mouth and a firey personality and usually monopolizes the conversation, but he's loads of fun, makes me laugh, and breaks up the day.
The proverbial ray of sunshine/breath of fresh air.
The dumping sessions probably wouldn't happen if he called more often, but you know how guys are about the phone--they don't like to talk on it all that much. And D. likes the in-your-face interaction. A former college athlete, he's wildly kinesthetic.
but I digress again...
D.'s troubled because his daughter, far away at college, suffered a catastrophic injury that may end her scholarship and her athletic career. Everything she knows about herself is now up for grabs while she waits, flat on her back, for the orthopedist to give her the green--or red--light.
As a Dad, D's kind of beside himself. He's not sure how to handle the situation. He had his own injuries in college, so he can relate. He was hoping that history wouldn't repeat itself with his daughter....which is what he is fearing right now.
I know how a catastrophic health condition can change your life on that basic sense-of-self level. That's what happened when I came down with Chronic Fatigue. Everything I knew about me, about where I was going, what I was achieving, how far I could go, what I needed to do with my life--all came crashing down around me.
Catastropic injury or illness affects you entire being--your mind, body and spirit in many different ways. It can crush you, slide you out like a grape skin from a winepress, and leave you in a state of total disarray and devastation.
"The best thing I can tell you to do right now," I said to D, because he was looking for a strategy and was coming up flat, "is don't fixate on the athlete, the part of you that she reflects. Focus in on who she is-- on what her talents are and where her potential lies....what makes her unique and special to you...
Most of all, don't pity her for what she lost--love her for who she is."
And I told D more about my illness...how the love wasn't there, and I turned to my studies and to faith to get me thru it. I told him how I had to bat away people who, like flies buzzing around around me, were telling me exactly what I'd done wrong with my life and how I'd screwed up my career forever and ever.
I don't listen to people who accuse me of not knowing what I'm doing with my life. Few people really know my entire life. And often they don't quite know what they are doing any more with their lives, even with their grand life maps, than I know about mine.
Every life plan is subject to change.
I learned, as the result of my illness is that what may appear as a linear path may indeed be an illusion. And that illusion can be torn apart when the reality of life crashes in.
D's daugter's injury may be connected to an old injury or to a possible degenerative genetic conditon. What she thought was her linear path--athletics to business school--are dissolving. It was an illusion because the reality of her phsyical condition--ignored for years by her--has now crashed in.
Yet reality sometimes opens doors, too. For me, the reality that my health is back, with small limitations (a tendancy towards low level, light-stimulated migranes, a need for 8+ hours of sleep, and a low b.s. threshold),but none that necessarily hold me back. The career path has faded to that of a grown-over dirt road, so I am finding (or blasting out) another path. Slowly, because that's the way it must be. The realization that I have my health back, even if there are ageing limitations, is an open door to new possibilities in my life.
In time, D's daughter will see the crash as an opening, too. She will move forward in her life, thru the crash into the possibilities.
And D's a good father--she's a lucky girl.
"well, you know what they say about life," he said, putting on his overcoat, "whatever that comes along in life that doesn't kill you, changes you."
"for the better, we hope," I added...and patted his shoulder.
He thought for a moment, "yes...probably for the better," and smiled.
Probably.
He's one of those "peripherial male friends," the kind that I meet here and there, or chat with from time to time, who don't necessarily fit in with my Approved Social Group (although that's changing, too.)
Like my friend Wm., who I met while he was working at the local Army/Navy store, who I lost touch with a couple of months' back because he became insufferable after he was dismissed from the Army/Navy store...
but I digress...
D calls usually every couple of weeks, and likes to stop by for coffee and to chat about something. He's got a big mouth and a firey personality and usually monopolizes the conversation, but he's loads of fun, makes me laugh, and breaks up the day.
The proverbial ray of sunshine/breath of fresh air.
The dumping sessions probably wouldn't happen if he called more often, but you know how guys are about the phone--they don't like to talk on it all that much. And D. likes the in-your-face interaction. A former college athlete, he's wildly kinesthetic.
but I digress again...
D.'s troubled because his daughter, far away at college, suffered a catastrophic injury that may end her scholarship and her athletic career. Everything she knows about herself is now up for grabs while she waits, flat on her back, for the orthopedist to give her the green--or red--light.
As a Dad, D's kind of beside himself. He's not sure how to handle the situation. He had his own injuries in college, so he can relate. He was hoping that history wouldn't repeat itself with his daughter....which is what he is fearing right now.
I know how a catastrophic health condition can change your life on that basic sense-of-self level. That's what happened when I came down with Chronic Fatigue. Everything I knew about me, about where I was going, what I was achieving, how far I could go, what I needed to do with my life--all came crashing down around me.
Catastropic injury or illness affects you entire being--your mind, body and spirit in many different ways. It can crush you, slide you out like a grape skin from a winepress, and leave you in a state of total disarray and devastation.
"The best thing I can tell you to do right now," I said to D, because he was looking for a strategy and was coming up flat, "is don't fixate on the athlete, the part of you that she reflects. Focus in on who she is-- on what her talents are and where her potential lies....what makes her unique and special to you...
Most of all, don't pity her for what she lost--love her for who she is."
And I told D more about my illness...how the love wasn't there, and I turned to my studies and to faith to get me thru it. I told him how I had to bat away people who, like flies buzzing around around me, were telling me exactly what I'd done wrong with my life and how I'd screwed up my career forever and ever.
I don't listen to people who accuse me of not knowing what I'm doing with my life. Few people really know my entire life. And often they don't quite know what they are doing any more with their lives, even with their grand life maps, than I know about mine.
Every life plan is subject to change.
I learned, as the result of my illness is that what may appear as a linear path may indeed be an illusion. And that illusion can be torn apart when the reality of life crashes in.
D's daugter's injury may be connected to an old injury or to a possible degenerative genetic conditon. What she thought was her linear path--athletics to business school--are dissolving. It was an illusion because the reality of her phsyical condition--ignored for years by her--has now crashed in.
Yet reality sometimes opens doors, too. For me, the reality that my health is back, with small limitations (a tendancy towards low level, light-stimulated migranes, a need for 8+ hours of sleep, and a low b.s. threshold),but none that necessarily hold me back. The career path has faded to that of a grown-over dirt road, so I am finding (or blasting out) another path. Slowly, because that's the way it must be. The realization that I have my health back, even if there are ageing limitations, is an open door to new possibilities in my life.
In time, D's daughter will see the crash as an opening, too. She will move forward in her life, thru the crash into the possibilities.
And D's a good father--she's a lucky girl.
"well, you know what they say about life," he said, putting on his overcoat, "whatever that comes along in life that doesn't kill you, changes you."
"for the better, we hope," I added...and patted his shoulder.
He thought for a moment, "yes...probably for the better," and smiled.
Probably.
posted by Tish Grier at 4:12 AM
1 Comments:
The funny thing about life not following a planned linear path, from my 65-year-old vantage point, is that all the detours, diversions, stops and start-overs now feel like they were inevitable - that it couldn't have been any other way.
I guess it couldn't feel otherwise; I'd be a different person if different things had happened.
Post a Comment
<< Home