Women, men, disability, and surprises

I'm in a strange frame of mind today. After 5 years of separation and 2 years of MS, I decided to ask my ex for spousal support.
It wasn't a decision made easily.  I hate being dependent. It's in fact, one of my problems, and the reason why (if there are reasons why) MS was given to me. I need to learn to let others help me. But oh how I hate it!
So I approached my ex with the request to discuss this and waited for him to cry poverty or get riled up or anything - but he responded instead with care and support. It was astonishing.   I've been afraid to ask him about this since I was diagnosed, knowing how we used to argue over money - or rather, not argue, just avoid discussion.
If this being supportive thing doesn't stop, from him and others, I am going to have to seriously change my world view. I've always felt I had to fight my way through things.  Admitting weakness meant instant loss, I thought, maybe from some experience in my youth, maybe just from my hard-wiring.
But I am astonished regularly these days by the support I get around the MS thang, around my challenges and my successes. It's quite wonderfully heartwarming and it might just be beginning to thaw the ice walls I keep around my heart to avoid hurt.

It's the first time in my life that I've felt that I am cupped in caring hands. Thank you, thank you.

Now, now that I can feel that, perhaps I can extend that to others more readily. For the last little while, it's been hard to extend a loving hand, feeling that  - hey! - no one helps ME! Giving begets giving.

So here's a big hug to all of you out there, and so many thanks.

Photo credit:http://www.myspace.com/_avada_kedavra_

Approach/Avoidance or rubber-banding and MS

Having MS requires a certain amount of elasticity. And ricocheting. And it must be very hard on those around us.

Recently I applied for a job. I just did the interview, and in doing the interview I realized the following:

1. I am very qualified for the position

2. I have pertinent experience, knowledge and wisdom to bring to the position.

3. I have done a lot in the years I've been in the workforce, after starting off the kids and attempting to support my ex (didn't do that so well, but there you go...).

4. Despite all this, my MS riddled body won't let me do the job. A job I otherwise could be good at.

So once again, I am brought up short, at the fullest tension of the elastic, and then sent snapping back into my MS box at high speed. I did the interview, but collapsed on the way home from fatigue. Today I'm toast. As they used to say back in the day when I was functional.

I feel for my friends, I do. They don't know how to support me. I try doing things, and they are supportive. They know the pre-MS me and hope like crazy I can get back there. When I try stuff, they sometimes tell me that that's good, it's good not to let my disability rule my life. I laugh rather quietly at that one. I'd give good money to tell my MS not to rule my life. UNFORTUNATELY, it still does, whether or not I give it permission.

Then there are the other friends, perhaps wiser, perhaps less optimistic, who tell me gently to enjoy the life I have now and stop trying to get back into the old one. They know about the elastic lure of the familiar, the fear of the slap back. My wonderful drug company nurse, Bonnie, bless her heart, told me gently that "many MS patients find that they are just all around better off letting that old life go, and are healthier and happier..." (I paraphrase, and she was much better at saying it than I). Sometimes I listen to them, and I decide to throw myself into my new, non-nursing, non-management, non-health care advocate life. I stop reading about health news, I go to ground and wallow in writing stuff. I try for joy.

But then an opportunity comes up, like this job I applied for. I have a look over my past accomplishments, and by jove, I've had a few. I stretched my career elastic pretty far, but there should be room for more. The lure of earning a salary again is big.

Being on paid vacation, like napping, becomes less of a joy when it is mandated. And tight on the money side...

So I stretch. And I fail. And it hurts again, to realize all that I've lost. To realize that this IS my life.

What is left of it.

Oh, and bonus, I can look forward to years of it, gradually getting more limited.

Is there any better reason to fly into fancy and visualize getting back into the pertinent workforce? Or alternatively, buying a motorhome, and running away from everything? While I can still drive?

Oh, escapism. How I love it. Especially in February.

Despite the gloom over my interview, the sun came out today, and shone brightly and warmly. It is a good thing some things don't depend on me.