Grieving the old me -- Accepting the new

I am a person who is ill. Without going into specifics, I can tell you that I am not the same person I was a number of years ago. Things that I used to take for granted, are much more difficult to do. Add to that my insistence on being a perfectionist, my drive for exceeding expectations (including my own), and 2 little human beings that depend on me and you've got a recipe for instant disaster.

I am addicted to "to-do" lists, and without them I get absolutely zero accomplished. I've also noticed that when one writes down goals, it is much more likely to get the goals accomplished. The caviat is that I am still young, bright, intelligent -- but my body will have none of it. If I have a list of 3 things I want to do, I can only get to one of them. I cannot, for the life of me, come to peace with the fact that I am disabled, that I am more easily fatigued and that a simple trip to Wallyworld can wipe me out for the rest of the day.

I don't identify with the disabled label very well, I suppose. Some people have told me that I need to stop thinking about being ill. I don't really, until my inability to achieve certain tasks starts to drive me nuts and I am faced with accepting the fact that I simply can NOT do what it is I would like.

Reminders like yesterday, when I went to the dentist, and I could not have a tooth extracted because of possible, serious complications thanks to a radiation treatment I received 3 years ago. Reminders that my body has changed and that tooth decay is more prevalent in people with my condition. Reminders that, when I fill out new medical intake forms, there are certain boxes I now check yes.

I think that I am very angry that my body won't cooperate. My desire to, for example, keep a spic-and-span home, has me living on the edge at times. Yes, I realize that the standards are high, but I don't have peace of mind when my house is a mess. I can't think straight. Angry when I can't cross anything off my to-do list.

Enter my mother. She is a no-nonsense kind of woman who tells it like it is even when you won't like it. She asked me the other day if I was ever going to accept that I was sick. I don't know. It is as if by accepting it, I will always identify with it and become someone who is permanently on the pitty-potty.

Yes, I am hard on myself. I rarely give up on things, and I suppose that is why I have gotten good care and follow up despite miserable circumstances. But in this scenario, it does not serve me well. My stubborness is standing in the way of accepting things as they are. I am stuck in the perpetual "if only" mode.

On the flip side, the if only mode has opened up avenues for me that I never thought possible. It has created the ability to think on my feet, and to upend even the most stubborn roadblocks at times. When the need arises, I am determined to find a way to circumvent red tape and stonewallers.

But the stubborness does not pay in my quest to be whole despite my illness. It is standing in the way of my happiness.

If you can relate to any of what I've said, please post a comment or e-mail me. I'd love to hear from you!