We didn’t go to the range this weekend. We both agreed that after our not-so-great outing last week that we needed to take the weekend off to reset. So, I’m going to do something a little different.
A while back our department was asked to share a “defining moment in our life” during a team-building exercise. I am not, nor have I ever been, a fan of team-building exercises. To me they are a forced way to fill time in a meeting when you don’t have enough to talk about.
This time I decided to actually put some effort into it, and I thought of a quote by one of my favorite people:
“Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage. Truth and courage aren’t always comfortable, but they’re never weakness.”
- Brené Brown
So, it was time to be vulnerable. Stop hiding what I’m going through with my team and share what makes me, me.
Most of the people that I work closely with already know what I’m going to say a defining moment in my life is. At least they think so, but they are only partially right. Some already know that a few years ago I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis which is huge. MS comes with a lot of uncertainty, a plethora of symptoms and no cure, but no, that’s not the defining moment.
The real defining moment happened a couple years after my diagnosis when my wife and I were at our favorite place, Disney World (duh). It was at this moment when my physical limitations, specifically walking, were really starting to show. I was barely able to walk from the parking lot to the entrance of the theme park, struggling to lift my foot off the ground. So, begrudgingly I agreed to use a wheelchair. After that, I was wheelchair-bound for the entire trip. It was the first time during this journey that I truly felt handicapped.
I learned rather quickly as I was being pushed around EPCOT that first day when people were glancing, unknowingly staring at a seemingly healthy-looking dude in a Donald Duck shirt being pushed around in a wheelchair, that there is no reason to be embarrassed, stressed, or concerned with what I can’t control or how people see me.
I also learned that someone else pushing me around gives me anxiety. I’d rather be in control of where I’m going. But that’s another story.
You know how I let being in a wheelchair affect my trip? I didn’t. I still got out and walked in lines, rode all the rides, enjoyed time with family and then some. Being in a wheelchair isn’t the end of the world, it allowed me to still participate in the vacation.
So that’s it. That’s the defining moment for me. Not the initial shock of the diagnosis, not researching this disease and seeing all the horrible things that could happen down the road and not my left arm always feeling numb at night, interrupting my sleep. It was the realization that you can’t let these things that you have no control over cause you to not be who you are.
My wife and I have learned to embrace the chaos, life is always going to throw something at you, it’s how you react to those moments that define you.
We still go to Disney World at least once a year, and you know what’s changed? I use a scooter instead of a wheelchair. Remember? I don’t like people pushing me. I still enjoy all the rides, food, and characters. If I walk, I walk with a cane. That’s it. I’m still happy to be there, and I don’t let my limitations, well, limit me. It is still my favorite place to be.
I also get to see Disney from a different perspective. Because, you know, I'm lower to the ground. (I'm hilarious)
Things happen. We ALL have “stuff” that shows up out of nowhere, sometimes more often than we’d like, but the key is to take everything head-on with a good attitude and constantly remind yourself, “this is a tiny moment of my life, I’m not going to let this ruin the day.”
Also, I’m not telling you this for pity. I don’t feel sorry for myself, and I don’t expect anyone to ever feel sorry for me. You take a hold of your life, and you move on. Keep pushing forward. I’ve embraced this new life and am thriving with the help of a great medical team, supportive family and friends that still push me to do things that I didn’t think I could do anymore.
And bionic clothing from CIONIC is a game changer. I’ve had the Neural Sleeve for about 6 months, and it makes cutting the grass, or doing errands so much easier. It makes me walk without bulky equipment. It fits like an athletic sleeve so I can wear it under my clothes, and it’s comfortable. I love it. I feel like the 6-Million Dollar Man.
My hobbies may have changed a bit. I don’t run anymore. But I’ve replaced that with shooting, something that my wife and I can still enjoy together without me holding anyone back because I’m slow.
They don’t know it but I attribute my great attitude about MS to the National MS Society. The information and resources on their website gave me the tools I needed to calm myself down and look toward the future.
So, there you have it. I know it’s not about guns, but I wanted to send something out to y’all.
Till next time,
J
PS: Here's my dog. He is a spaz.
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