I get tired of the platitudes.
“I am bigger than Parkinson’s.”
“If your dreams don’t scare you, they’re not big enough.”
“If life gives you lemons, make lemonade.”
Because there are times when Parkinson’s is bigger than I am, when life is scarier than dreams, when I’m surrounded by lemons but not vodka or sugar.
The existential argument I’m having with my belief system is reaching a draw with no clear winner. Because sometimes Parkinson’s wins. Sometimes my lack of vision wins. Sometimes it doesn’t matter if I’m stronger. Or if I’ve gained weight (muscles or alcohol, it’s hard to tell). Or if I can or can’t organize my way out of a wet paper bag.
Everyone has their own issues. Some are bigger than others, it’s just not anyone’s place to judge the depth of someone else’s suffering. But no one wants to hear you complain about lost love, lost life, lost health, lost vision, lost hope. And those who suffer don’t really want to hear another story about overcoming the odds and obstacles. At least I don’t.
Now, I am simply trying to find a way back to the life I loved. Of course, it sucks that the main reason I loved it has gone, but no one wants to hear about THAT either.
As I walk to the kitchen in the pre-dawn light, words I have lived by all my life begin to echo around my head.
Suck it up, buttercup. It’s time to get a move on.
Vent, say what you want, send your words out into the world, others wish they could say them, but feel stifled. Continue to write, and do what you can on your own terms, not someone else’s.