I once was accused of wanting a 'warm, fuzzy feeling' from the celebration of Christmas. Yes! Unashamedly! It is, after all, supposed to be a season of 'great joy'! Yet all around me I see and hear exhortations to spend more money, dress up more glamorously, entertain more lavishly. There is a large amount of stress involved, it seems, and the goodwill it should engender is lost amid the feelings of compulsion, competition and conformity.
I am just as guilty as the next person! There was a time when Christmas at my house had to be picture-book perfect. If any of my plans went awry, I got very upset; considering my celebration short of the mark, and myself to have failed. Now (since my stroke), although I still spend far too much, I have simpler pleasures, and very different values. For example, wishing some-one 'Good Health' now is a much more meaningful sentiment, and although it was always important to me to spend Christmas surrounded by my family - now I feel that importance more keenly.
So are we all in search of that 'warm, fuzzy feeling'? Maybe. And where is the joy?
At the risk of sticking my head above the parapet again, I suggest that the temptation is to spend our way to comfort and joy! What is in fact a religious festival, celebrating the birth of a baby who grew up to be - for many of us anyway - God, has become another example of paying homage to the gods 'retail' and 'advertising'. I suspect that that's what my accuser was getting-at! I now see more clearly, but whether that is because of my age or because of the stroke - who knows?
I shall still aim for that 'warm, fuzzy feeling', but in my efforts to celebrate the birth of Christ, I will strive not to become a slave to those other gods.
Wednesday 21 November 2012
Thursday 1 November 2012
13. Miserable again
My glass is still half-empty. This is a dangerous (and rather uncomfortable) state to be in. For a while now I have been concentrating on what I can't do - and that is a recipe for disaster!
These negative feelings really got going when I decided I wanted a move-round of the furniture. Many years ago (and before my stroke) I would spend a happy afternoon re-organising rooms. I would do this on a whim, and had no trouble pushing and pulling the heavy stuff around until I was happy with my handiwork. How different it is now! It must be several years since I last had a change-round, and there is no acting on a whim. There has to be a plan of action, agreed well in advance. And as for putting my back into moving furniture ...that is a thing of the past! Now, I am reduced to sitting on the sidelines, directing the proceedings.
This train of thought led on to another, more upsetting realisation. Up until recently, my thoughts (and many of my conversations) began with 'before the stroke ...' It all seemed so recent. All the values, all the skills, all the likes and dislikes, all the habits I had then were as if frozen in time. Maybe I clung to them because these, and other aspects of my character were the only things I had left. The 'important' bits of my character still remain, but I can no longer think of it as 'recent'. It is thirteen years since I had the stroke; thirteen years I have been this way. I can no longer revel in the triumph of cheating death, of surviving against all odds, of defying all and sundry to prove the point that I wasn't a 'lost cause'. I am in the 'long haul' that is the rest of my life. And this realisation has made me miserable.
It would be so easy to slide into depression. At one stage it was even an expected consequence. But I am too stubborn for that ...and some might say 'bloody-minded'. So for the time being I will continue to kick the cat (metaphorically of course). Oh, and re-arrange the furniture!
These negative feelings really got going when I decided I wanted a move-round of the furniture. Many years ago (and before my stroke) I would spend a happy afternoon re-organising rooms. I would do this on a whim, and had no trouble pushing and pulling the heavy stuff around until I was happy with my handiwork. How different it is now! It must be several years since I last had a change-round, and there is no acting on a whim. There has to be a plan of action, agreed well in advance. And as for putting my back into moving furniture ...that is a thing of the past! Now, I am reduced to sitting on the sidelines, directing the proceedings.
This train of thought led on to another, more upsetting realisation. Up until recently, my thoughts (and many of my conversations) began with 'before the stroke ...' It all seemed so recent. All the values, all the skills, all the likes and dislikes, all the habits I had then were as if frozen in time. Maybe I clung to them because these, and other aspects of my character were the only things I had left. The 'important' bits of my character still remain, but I can no longer think of it as 'recent'. It is thirteen years since I had the stroke; thirteen years I have been this way. I can no longer revel in the triumph of cheating death, of surviving against all odds, of defying all and sundry to prove the point that I wasn't a 'lost cause'. I am in the 'long haul' that is the rest of my life. And this realisation has made me miserable.
It would be so easy to slide into depression. At one stage it was even an expected consequence. But I am too stubborn for that ...and some might say 'bloody-minded'. So for the time being I will continue to kick the cat (metaphorically of course). Oh, and re-arrange the furniture!
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