I’ve written often about the pain in my legs feeling like fire when it gets unbearably intense. Today the pain feels manageable, but I’m excited to share about another kind of fire. For the first time in my life – without anyone’s help – I successfully lit a fire in a wood fireplace. That may seem like no big deal for a person who lives in a house with a wood fireplace or anyone who goes camping regularly; but I’m a city girl who never goes camping and only ever has to flip a switch to light a gas fireplace.
I won’t lie, it took quite a few tries to get the kindling to stay lit until it became a fully crackling fire. When the flames finally started shooting, I felt a great sense of accomplishment.
No Fire In My Legs – December 2018
No Fire In My Legs – December 2018
Interestingly, I’m away from home and before leaving on my trip I was stressed about the very real possibility of experiencing a fiery pain flare up. Nevertheless, here I am today, after traveling thousands of miles and for the first time in a long time, the fire I’m feeling is exactly where it should be…
Last winter, I took a trip. As much as it was a trip to get away from the frigid cold in the middle of winter to enjoy some tropical sunshine, sandy beaches, and saltwater; it was also a trip to test how well I can handle long-distance travel by air with my ongoing health issues. Overall, I handled it fairly well, so I’m taking another trip.
Even though things went well last year, I’m still somewhat anxious about getting on a plane again. This flight will be eight hours long, which is double the length of the last one; and I will travel 5,700 kilometres (3,550 miles) and cross five time zones over the Atlantic Ocean. Until I land and adjust to the time difference, I don’t think I’ll be able to assess the extent to which I’m affected. During the flight I took last year, my pain wasn’t significantly aggravated, but sitting in an airplane seat for eight hours this time, while feeling intense pain might be different. Add to that the fact that I’ve always been a bit of a nervous flyer and I have to admit that I’m not really looking forward to getting up in the air again.
However, my anxiety doesn’t end with the thought of getting on the plane and sitting through an eight-hour flight. I’m also anxious because I’ll be so far away from home, my doctors, and everything else familiar. During this trip, I’ll be staying with friends I haven’t seen since my last trip across the pond about six years ago. Although my friends are aware that I’m ill, they haven’t seen how the pain and accompanying side effects affect my daily life. I’m already worried about how I’ll cope and how they might react if – or more likely when – I have a pain flare up while I’m staying with them.
I know I shouldn’t expend the energy worrying about “what ifs?” but it’s hard after living with constant pain for this long and knowing that a flare up is never far off. It’s also hard not to worry about how others will react when they see you for the first time struggling to walk or unable to move at all because of pain. It’s hard not to worry about how greatly affected I’ll be by jet lag, especially because I already have a lot of difficulty with sleep and I never sleep well on planes.
It’s hard not to worry about how I’ll cope traveling around a city where public transit is widely used, when I’ve avoided using public transit where I live since becoming ill: how will I handle the sudden stops and starts of the trains or not being able to find a free seat while traveling on one? It’s hard not to worry about how I’ll explain needing to rest for a few days after going out for just a few hours. There are a lot more things I’m worried I’ll have to deal with and explain, but I suppose I’ll cross those bridges when I get to them.
Nevertheless, before I even get to the other side of the pond, there are some things I did in preparation for last year’s trip that I will repeat for this one. The main thing I did last year that was extremely helpful was arranging assistance to get to and from the plane. When I get to the airport, the airline will arrange for someone to take me from the check in counter to the boarding gate by wheelchair and/or golf cart. Then when passengers start to board the plane, I will be among the first to board with assistance from the flight crew. When I arrive at my destination, the same process will happen again. There will be someone waiting for me with a wheelchair when I leave the plane who will help me through customs to the baggage carousel and they will also help me collect my suitcase. Doing this last year helped me conserve a lot of energy and probably went a long way to ensuring that I got off to a relatively good start on my trip.
Knowing that I will have this assistance at the airports goes a long way to help me maintain peace of mind. However, I’m still anxious about the laundry list of things that need to be done before I even get there…
Doing something with the best intentions doesn’t necessarily mean that what one does is welcomed or perceived as the right thing. Sometimes we get too close to a situation and believe that what we might do in our own best interest is also the right thing to do to resolve issues in another’s life. That doesn’t always work out to be true because some people don’t like feeling as if they are being told what to do or that they are being judged. Even when our intentions come from a compassionate and caring place, if the person on the receiving end cannot see that, nothing that we offer them will be welcome. I’ve come to this realization the hard way.
A recent event that was both emotionally painful and shocking, reminded me that when someone perceives things as negative there is rarely anything that can be done to shift that perception. I reached a disappointing impasse in a relationship where I wrongly believed progress had been made and the work of trying to understand each other had been fruitful. However, as it turns out, my hopefulness blinded me and it clouded the truth: All the work being done to understand was one-sided – on my side alone. In any relationship, positive progress cannot be made unless all parties involved are willing to try. Each party must be willing to look within themselves and face even the least desirable parts of who they are for a chance to become fully accountable for themselves and to the people who care for them.
Without this introspection, we doom ourselves to repeat the same mistakes and bring pain to others, and ourselves. Because when we don’t know what lies within us, even if we don’t intend to, we put the worst parts of ourselves out into the world. When anger and hatred fill us, we put anger and hatred into the world. That anger and hatred will pollute everything with which they come into contact. The people in our lives, whether that includes family, friends, or coworkers, won’t tolerate it forever. Those who do maintain the relationship may do so out of fear or a warped sense of obligation and they will avoid shedding light on the truth to prevent explosive confrontations.
When we accept this we rob the angry, hate filled individual of the opportunity to grow or make positive changes in their lives. The biggest of those changes being taking responsibility for themselves and their actions and no longer blaming others or external factors when things don’t work out in life as they desire them to. Sadly, the longer this behaviour continues without challenge and people avoid calling out the truth, the bigger the problem grows: until it reaches a point, where all interactions with that angry, hate filled person – even the briefest ones – are fraught with anxiety or fear.
At this point in my life, excess anxiety and anger are not conducive to me maintaining any degree of good health. Erratic emotions and outright anger cause me to experience pain flare-ups, so I try my best to keep things on an even keel as much as humanly possible. Being around people who have anger issues won’t and can’t help me keep balanced. Therefore, until they acknowledge and attempt to do the work necessary to identify what triggers their anger and how to manage it – which I’m aware, may never happen – I need to take a giant step back.
Saying this doesn’t mean I believe I’m perfect. I need to continue my introspective work, so I can hold myself accountable for my sh!t in the most truthful way. I need to step back and keep building on my safe and happy place, so I don’t pave my own road to hell with my best intentions towards others.
My Small Surrenders 