A Resilient Spirit
Living with a chronic condition can often leave you feeling weary. When you work year after year, day after day, to manage your health, you can come to feel that your illness is synonymous with your identity. David J. Hellerstein, M.D., a professor of clinical psychiatry at Columbia University and research psychiatrist at New York State Psychiatric Institute, sums up the long-term effect of living with a chronic condition, when he says, "it appears mild day to day but becomes brutal long-term."
chron·ic
adjective
1. (of an illness) persisting for a long time or constantly recurring.
2. always present or encountered; constantly vexing, weakening, or troubling.
Synonyms: persistent, long-standing, long-term
With a chronic mental illness, the challenge becomes even greater when you confront the common misperception that "a look on the bright side" will cure what ails you. That if you simply think positively enough and change your attitude, you'll "snap out of it". That would be like saying to someone living with chronic diabetes or asthma, "Why don't you just will yourself better?"
There is, however, an aspect of will that you come to know more than a little something about when you live with any kind of chronic condition:
re·sil·ience
noun
1. the capacity to recover readily from illness, depression, adversity
2. the ability to become strong & healthy again after something bad happens
3. an ability to recover from or adjust easily to misfortune or change
Synonyms: toughness, buoyancy
Recently I was reminded of the beauty of a resilient spirit. It happened on a day when I felt like giving up - when the fog of depression was threatening to descend over me and I just didn't know if I could summon the strength to resist it. As this battle waged inside of me, I happened to look outside and notice a deer. As soon as I saw her, I could tell something wasn't quite right, but it took me a moment to process that one of her legs was injured and she was unable to use it. There she was, making her way on three legs, limping awkwardly and very slowly around as she foraged for food in the bitter cold. She was with another smaller doe and at times she struggled to keep up when her companion wandered too far away.
I spent hours watching that deer. At first I cried - I hated to see her suffering and struggling. I worried that she would not make it - defenseless against predators, since she could not run. After a while, though, my tears gave way to a deeper sense of awe. Instead of focusing on her injured leg, I became mesmorized by the utter beauty of her being as a whole. I became a silent witness to her incredible, indomitable strength and the fortitude of her spirit as she maneuvered gracefully despite her impediment. In her vulnerability, lay her strength and beauty. I can't remember when last something has touched me so deeply, and I realised that it was because this deer was revealing to me a piece of myself and what I saw was beautiful. She touched my heart as she reminded me to be compassionate with my own wounds and to appreciate the strong, resilient spirit inside of me that continues on, as gracefully as possible, in spite of difficulties.
I was sad when she left, with the setting sun. I wanted to be able to go to her, to hold her injured leg gently, with the greatest love and compassion, and somehow nurture it back to health. But I knew that I couldn't save her. I had to let her go - to let nature take it's course. I am simply a witness to her resilience - her will to survive. Quietly, I will root for her, hoping that she makes it.
Life can not be filled only with the strong, fast and nimble. At some point, we will all find ourselves wounded in some way. The deer in my backyard showed me just how much beauty and power there is in a resilient spirit that keeps moving, even when it is a struggle.
