How James Stewart Taught Me How To Heal

Before taking the role of George Bailey in "It's a Wonderful Life" James Stewart took a break from acting after serving his military service. The war changed him and he needed time to recoup and heal. From then on the roles he chose reflected a much deeper and multidimensional persona.

"It's a Wonderful Life" was James Stewart's first postwar film.

In the scene when George Bailey contemplates suicide the director Frank Capra noticed something new in Stewart's face, something deeply raw and thoroughly human. As Capra watched Stewart's Bailey pray to "Father in Heaven to show him the way" the director wanted to capitalize on this heartbreaking performance. He spent hours editing the film so the final cut would show the audience what he saw. The angst of a soldier.

James Stewart's career took on a new trajectory.

In a smaller sense I can understand how James Stewart felt. I don't claim to have experienced anything like the violence and tragedy of war. But if emotions mold a person then there's the parallel.

I'm fighting a different kind of war, one that involves a kind of loss. Loss comes in all different forms, mostly beyond our control. Today I see life through a different lens.There's no going back.

Recent events changed me in ways I never imagined. The Utopian life I dreamed about as a child seems unreachable. Joy, grace, gratitude and hope feel distant and unattainable.

I need to regroup. I need to rest. I need to think. I need to heal.

MS is a cruel dictator. It has the power to decide at any given moment to erase pleasure from your life. It can remove physical and spiritual abilities and frighten you beyond all measure. When that happens you don't recognize yourself.

As the stress of our move lingered and the dismal outcome of the election hung in the balance my body began to ignore my pleas of mercy. Numbness and weakness descended, and with it the ability to walk or care for myself properly.

I'm living with the consequences of too much stress while living in a place we're unhappy with. Our buyer pressured us to move and we had no choice. This small, dark townhouse with its thin walls was the "pick" of the litter since there are currently more renters than inventory.

Everyone tells me to rest and that's exactly what I've been doing. For a week I've stayed in my pajamas and watched television (my MS induced cog fog prevented much else) while my husband does all the work.

I cancelled our vacation (my 3rd cancellation this year.) I also cancelled Thanksgiving gatherings. Me and the hubby ate chicken and rice while watching TV in our pajamas. Not exactly the romance of yesteryear...

The election results haven't helped. Those who know me best know how I feel about that. I can't imagine anything productive or kind coming from the next administration and I fear for our country and its citizens.

It's frightening to experience life beyond our control, to sit in the passenger seat unable to control the steering wheel. You can't avoid the bad guys.

I long for my "normal" life when I can walk where and when I want, for as long and as fast as I can, without fear of fatigue or falling.

I want to travel again - anywhere - with my head held high without fear of repercussions from a country that is so divided.

Words fail me at the moment so I'm not sure how to end this post. I have no neat little ribbons to tie it in or inspiring prose to offer you.

As a writer I want to use words to soothe you. As a woman I want to say women will be treated with respect and dignity. As a patient I want to inspire others through my strong example, with hope for better research, alternate options for wellness, affordable healthcare and cures.

As a human being I want to spark others into action to fight for what's right and good and to pray for the peace we richly deserve. And never, ever give up.

Despite all of this I have to believe, I must believe, there is more good in the world than evil and that good will always prevail.

I must believe my body will prevail. Positive thinking and a warrior attitude that nothing will get in my way. No matter how long it takes.

I'll continue to advocate for my health and the health of others. I'll also advocate for the health of our country.

Hope, joy, gratitude and grace will appear at my doorstep again. While I'm waiting for their appearance I'll hold tight to the loving family and friends holding me up. They've never given up on me. They strengthen my resolve to fight for a better, healthier and saner world.

As Uncle Henry used to say, I hug you with my words.

(A footnote, pun intended: The feeling on my left side is coming back! I'm excited about that. Small victories are truly big ones.)

Thanks, James Stewart.

The Wound Is The Place Where The Light Enters You

Fear. Illness. Disappointment. Anxiety.

The words dangle before my eyes, suspended in midair as if to taunt me. They hang in the balance as constant reminders of what is now. I close my eyes tightly, hoping the words will disappear. But when I open them they dance wildly as if to mock me for the hope that went unanswered.

I know I don’t have the corner on pain and sadness. But I’ve had more than my share, in ways I never imagined.

Offer hope instead of platitudes to those with chronic illness

People mean well when they offer trite platitudes like “When one door closes another one opens” or “We get as much as the Lord thinks we can handle” but those maxims were created by people looking for easy answers. They’ve never stopped anyone’s anxieties.

Whatever lessons I’ve learned came from the brilliance of others who offered hope and resilience through words or action.

When I was thirteen my brother gave me the book “The Prophet” by Kahlil Gibran. I quickly devoured it. As I allowed the words to wash over me something powerful happened. My inner spirit came to life as if there was a birth. And there was. It was the beginning of my passion for philosophy and spirituality. I felt my inner spirit coming out of the darkness and into the light.

Change your perspective, change your world

Gibran offered me a way to look at life through a different lens. Changing your perspective can change your world.

The wound is the place where the Light enters you. ~ Rumi

The words of great philosophers, poets and men and women of peace give us comfort during troubled times. Ordinary folks living their lives with integrity, dignity and compassion provide us with examples to live by.

They all give us the tools to live an honorable life in an imperfect world. Living is not determined by what life brings to us but by the attitude we bring to it.

Attitude is key to living a life of joy

At a young age I learned that my attitude would be the key to living a life of joy and passion. Little did I know how handy this would be at a seminal moment in my life when, at the tender age of twenty-eight, I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis and became part of the disability community. I leaned on the philosophy of Gibran to help me face my greatest challenge.

Buddhism helped me deal with adversity. When things fall apart, feel lucky instead of angry. Yes, lucky. By facing fear we find the courage to grow stronger. Leaning into fear is an opportunity to flourish.

I know that facing our fears is not an easy thing to do. Sometimes the adversities we face are almost too much to bear. Life can be cruel.

When MS feels too much to bear, do this

Sometimes life hurls bushels of lemons at us and we’re unable to make lemonade. Our troubles seem too difficult to overcome and we think we’ll never recover.

Breathe. Step outside of yourself and look through a new lens. We always have two choices: feel sorry for ourselves or treat the lemons as a gift. Every challenge is either an obstacle or an opportunity to grow. The choice is ours.

My lemon is my chronic illness. It’s a battlefield, a daily war zone of fatigue, pain, weakness, anxiety and even depression.

What's your lemon?

The importance of gratitude when facing chronic illness

Every day I try to be grateful for the morning sunrise and the fact that I can get out of bed on my own. I'm grateful to be able to dress, bathe and feed myself. That I can walk and use both arms to hug my husband, son, and cats. I blessed to have work I’m passionate about and the ability to help others feel less frightened and isolated on their health journey.

And I can make my own choices.

No matter what course my disease takes in the coming years I will remain strong. I will always use my voice to make a difference in the lives of others, and let the world know that this disabled woman will always matter.

At some point in our lives we will all stand on the precipice of fear and must choose which direction we want to go. Life isn't always fair. It's not the Utopia we want it to be. So in the face of sadness and despair I hope we can remain forever strong.

How about you?

I choose to live in gratitude, no matter what lemons are thrown my way. I count my blessings, turn toward fear and keep my head in the direction of the sun to face another challenge. Because, as my favorite quote by Rumi says:

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”

NOTE: This post was originally posted July 2015.