Who Loves Ya, Baby?

by Dean Kramer
June, 2006

So often people with MS speak of feeling alone and isolated by the disease. The symptoms, unpredictable in their coming and going, are often invisible and hard for others to credit. When I was in psychotherapy the therapist, trained (and paid) to empathize, thought MS symptoms were evidence of hysteria. It took a letter from my neurologist to straighten her out and, even with that, she kept sliding back into disbelief.

The reality of my isolation with MS sometimes causes me to throw a very extensive, elaborately catered, Pity Party. An open bar offers several vintage resentments. There is a smorgasbord consisting of half-baked qualms, sweet and sour sorrows, old friendships on ice, and an assortment of tart reminders of lost skills laced with grief. The music is C&W at its most depressingly self-centered. Naturally, I'm the sole attendee. (See? Nobody wants to come to my parties.) I eat and drink my fill and wake the next day bloated and with a tremendous hangover the pain of which presages my next binge of unhappiness.

Sometimes, before I commit myself to such an entertainment, I'm reminded to envision the network of beings and circumstances that, knowingly or not, have a hand in my well-being. If I can describe that network and awaken myself to that equally valid reality the pity party may be cancelled or, at least, postponed. I play a version of Pollyanna’s “Glad Game.” (Sure, Pollyanna died in the end but finding things to be glad about isn’t what killed her.)

How am I beloved? Let me count the ways…

But wait! I don’t want to make a conventional list of all those folks I’m told belong on such lists. You know whom I mean—partners, children, parents, friends, doctors, teachers, spiritual leaders, co-workers, and the like. Maybe those people will be on my list, but I need to make sure my well-being feels genuinely connected with them. If my list is created dishonestly and I’ve lied to myself, well, that’s an invitation to another round of self-pity. So, what beings and what circumstances help me to feel loved, healthy, and positive about life?

I feel best when I’m out of doors in the natural world. My body relaxes and my mind stops ruminating on my troubles because there’s always something more interesting out there than I am. Nature doesn’t care about nor take care of me in any intentional way. Nature doesn’t even know I exist. Consequently, when I am alone in the natural world I am free from outside expectations. No wonder I find it relaxing!

I always feel a lift and become equally relaxed when I get together in the spiritual fellowship to which I belong. I receive inspiration from the people I encounter there. This doesn’t happen directly for I often sit quietly with no chance to interact. But in listening to the others I find some encouraging nugget of truth to carry away. Though many such fellowships have behavioral expectations of the members, mine does not. This, again, allows me to simply be myself. Individuals may or may not like me but as far as the fellowship is concerned I am truly welcome.

I have three friends, one very close, one close, and the last becoming more so. My closest friend is easy to be with. We have known each other for better than 20 years and have long passed the point of carping over the other’s character flaws. Because we work together professionally I see a good bit of her. I can’t imagine a better work situation for myself than to share an office with my oldest friend. The second friend is a woman I’ve never met. She has MS and we have corresponded via email for over 6 years. We plan to meet at some point but, whether we do or not, I count her among the people who most matter to my well-being. The last friend is a sort of spiritual director. Also easy to be with, she points out areas where my behavior could improve. She does it with such genuine caring that I never feel unfairly criticized. She always shares her own shortcomings, and has no personal need for me to change. She has no expectations.

I have a dog that is always glad to see me. When I am done working at the computer, no matter how soundly asleep he is, he will jump to his feet and look at me as if to say, “Okay, human, what’s next?” He is irresistibly inviting to touch and his energy and playfulness make me smile no matter how preoccupied I am. All he expects of me is love and, because he is a dog, my expectations of him are minimal enough that I am never disappointed.

Since 2000 I’ve belonged to the online MS support community here at MSWorld. Though the volunteer staff consists of over 20 people, I’ve spoken with only 4 of the members by phone and have met only 1 in person yet I feel wonderfully connected to all the staff and to thousands of members through the Message Boards, the hosted Chats, and the response of readers to my own Cripple Creek column. As a staff member there are expectations placed on me but I receive so much from MSWorld and am asked for so little in return that I never feel unduly burdened by these expectations. Additionally I know that, at any time of day or night, I can contact someone (including my fellow staff members) who will totally understand any difficulties I might be having due to MS and will excuse me from my duties if I need to be excused.

Looking over my list, the theme seems to be “expectations” and how well I feel when there aren’t any. True, one can’t totally avoid having or receiving them, but I’ve heard it said that expectations are resentments in the larval stage. So, for me, unfulfilled expectations (my own and others’) lead to resentments, and resentments (my own and others’) lead to Pity Party blowouts.

Here I sit, on a cloudy Saturday at Cripple Creek, glad to be able to count so many expectation-and-resentment-free areas in my life. The more time I can spend among them, the better I’ll handle the rest of what comes along. There’ll be no Pity Party tonight. Thanks for reading!