Some of us have never had to test their resilience, while
others have only tapped into it once in a while. And when the reason for a big change was totally our idea in the first place -
- for example, choosing to move into a new home, start a new job or go on a diet; very
little resilience is needed to accomplish the goal.
During my first year of learning to live with ALS, I found
I needed all my resilience, and then
some!
But as one year followed the next, I noticed something
interesting. The whole process of accepting, adapting and finally, incorporating the ongoing changes into my life became
less of a struggle. I wondered: Was I finally wearing down from it all? Giving up?
Shouldn't life become harder the longer one lives with ALS?
I even wondered why in spite of it all, I continued to feel good,
retained a positive outlook on life and even looked forward to the future. Apparently, other PALS (People with ALS) experienced
similar positive transitions, and researchers were busy studying 'why.'
Emotional transitions
For instance, it was noted that patients experienced most
depression only during their initial year with ALS. Common were the feelings of being helpless and
hopeless; they saw their life goals as no longer attainable and much of their time
was spent time dwelling on the past.
But then patients began coping, adapting and reporting increased well-being and quality of life. Their successful coping strategies included:
Yes, my first year was full of sadness as well.
- The use of “living in the moment”
- Improved dietary care
- Exercise
- Use of health care services
- ...and an increased perception of control over increased physical demands.
My plan
Yes, my first year was full of sadness as well.
One of my first steps was to begin journaling. I recorded feelings, what I did each day and even collected pages of positive quotes. Every so often, I’d go back and read my earlier pages noting how my attitude was slowly becoming more positive.
I wrote down goals: to maintain my fitness, to continue
to participate in activities with friends and family, to write, to pursue my
interest in the fiber arts. And then I smiled; realizing that these were the
very same goals I had before ALS - - only now, in order to do them I’d have to
find a slightly different way, a new path - - it required a change in
perception.
Reframe the problem
Back when I taught wellness classes, one strategy we recommended was to change perception or re-frame our thinking about things that were stressful. I put that strategy to the test during my first year with ALS when I needed to transition to using a rolling walker.
Up to now, my experiences with walkers went something
like this: Healthy people used walkers for short periods of time following
surgery -- and then they got better. Old people used walkers for the rest of
their lives -- and they didn't get better. So, where did I fit in?
Never the less, a walker with wheels showed up at our
home.
Hesitantly, I tried it out and had to admit that using a
walker didn't diminish who I was at all. Rather, it was actually a wonderful piece of
equipment.
With it, I escaped the confines of a chair. It allowed me to stand up again, with a vertical spine - -my legs and feet bearing my body weight - - the way they were supposed to. With it, I had the freedom to move through the house, roll my own way into restaurants, friend’s homes and attend club meetings. Once the handles were adjusted to their highest setting, I stood taller yet. I practiced strategies for entering and exiting cars, sidling up to dining room chairs, perfected U-turns and even did laps from one end of the house to the other.
We soon purchased a second walker, and kept it neatly folded in the trunk of the car; at the ready for future outings.
With it, I escaped the confines of a chair. It allowed me to stand up again, with a vertical spine - -my legs and feet bearing my body weight - - the way they were supposed to. With it, I had the freedom to move through the house, roll my own way into restaurants, friend’s homes and attend club meetings. Once the handles were adjusted to their highest setting, I stood taller yet. I practiced strategies for entering and exiting cars, sidling up to dining room chairs, perfected U-turns and even did laps from one end of the house to the other.
We soon purchased a second walker, and kept it neatly folded in the trunk of the car; at the ready for future outings.
Finally, I remember telling myself: “It’s 2011, for gosh sake!
By now, everyone is quite used to seeing other people navigating their way through the
world quite fine using wheelchairs, electric scooters, artificial limbs
and yes, - - rolling walkers! ”
The lesson here is: re-frame your perception; adapt and learn all you can about the
problem and possible solutions. You can control your attitude and your attitude
gives you control.
One more reframe:
During my first year of living with ALS, I did something
else to exert control. Control over what the letters A-L-S meant to me. Just
speaking or reading the letters made me sad. Not to mention that they stood for a
disease that was difficult to pronounce, spell and ultimately accept. I decided that if I
had to feel, read and speak those letters every day, then they darn well better
represent something new, positive and more ME.
I selected:
Adapt
Learn
Survive
They certainly work for me.
Try them out - - and let them work for you
as well!
___________________________________________________
References:
Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1990). Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience. New York, NY: Harper and Row.
Pagnini, F. (2013). Psychological wellbeing and quality of life in amyotrophic lateral sclerosis: a review. Int. J. Psychol. 48, 194–205. doi: 10.1080/00207594.2012.691977
Real RGL, Dickhaus T, Ludolph A, Hautzinger M and Kübler A (2014) Well-being in amyotrophic lateral sclerosis: a pilot experience sampling study. Front. Psychol. 5:704. doi: 10.3389/fpsyg.2014.00704
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