Ok, so I'm doing something semi-new today. I'm participating in the Disability Blog Carnival taking place tomorrow over at Reimer Reason. And the theme she's chosen is Resilience. (I say semi-new because it's sort of like B.A.D.D. [Blogging Against Disablism Day].)

When I first heard what the topic was going to be on, I was confused I hate to admit, and at a loss. I didn't know in what context she meant: resilient to life's surprising curveballs, resilient--or resistant, more likely--to certain meds in conjunction with disabilities, or what-have-you. And I didn't know if I had anything to write about on resilience. All I knew was, I wanted to participate in this carnival. And I've had this desire to participate in something like the carnival for at least a month.

re·sil·ience

1) The ability to recover quickly from illness, change, or misfortune; buoyancy.

2) The property of a material that enables it to resume its original shape or position after being bent, stretched, or compressed; elasticity.

Looking at these definitions of the word got me thinking. Some of us may indeed be more resilient than others to illnesses, change or misfortune and those surprising curveballs life seems to love throwing at us. But when it comes to the challenges or things of adversity that come with having a disability or having a loved one with a disability, I don't think anyone of us is resilient, in the truest sense of the word. Let me explain...

The way I see life, we are constantly experiencing things, either familiar or new. Some of them are trials or challenges we'd rather do without, feeling they're too hard or overwhelming for us to deal with. But the truth is, if you think about it and are honest with yourself and give them a chance, these trials aren't anything you can't deal with and overcome. Each trial or challenge comes into your life for a purpose and that is to change you, for the better if you let it. In this way you're not resilient, none of us are. We are forever changed; we don't bounce back to who we were before the challenge. Hopefully we have learned and grown from the experience.

A continuing challenge for me are my seizures. I've had them at least once a month for 10 years now. When they first started happening, I was angry and scared; I didn't know what they were. They're horrible to experience, and I was angry for the longest time that I couldn't control them. And that I was having them in the first place, once I knew what they were. Anytime I had one, afterwards I would cry angrily and be moody all the next day. 'Course, with the near-migraines and sore muscles that are par-for-the-course in the aftermath of any seizure I have, I have good reason to be moody afterwards.

But I finally accepted a couple to a few years ago, that there is nothing I can do about the seizures--except take my medicine, which helps to control the frequency of my seizures. They'll come when they come and be over when they're over. The best I can do is not fight them like I used to, and the aftermath won't be as bad. Oh sure, I still get the headaches and my muscles ache and I feel like limp spaghetti afterwards, and I'm disoriented. But I don't cry anymore, really; I don't get mad either, or let them set the tone of my day if I can help it. I'm resigned to having them. I've accepted them as being part of my life now. I don't like 'em, of course, but ya can't cry over what you can't change. Not for long anyway.

In a way I guess I have become resilient to having these seizures, but they also prove the point I hope I'm making. Because of the seizures, I'm reminded I'm not invincible but mortal. They've humbled me and helped me be more empathetic to others. I've become a stronger person, a changed person.

moon phase