Gaining empowerment
Forgiveness is a necessary part of coping and of becoming empowered. Forgiveness and letting go of old hurts and disagreements can help tremendously in relieving tension and decreasing depression. As I have learned in my therapy, this does not mean that earlier hurtful behavior is excused, or forgotten, but it can be looked on with perspective, and sorrow, rather than with revenge or guilt. The more loving I can be, the more empowered I then become. The more I let go of old sorrows and disappointments, the easier it is for me to look forward, without denying the realities I am facing.
Other ways I become empowered include (1) continuing to learn; (2) keeping in touch with friends and family to avoid isolation and to gain the perspectives of others; (3) learning new ways to communicate—both physically and emotionally (I have a voice enhancer to enable me to speak when my vocal cords and surrounding muscles weaken, as well as a voice-directed and eye-directed computer system); (4) continuing to find ways to both give and receive love and realizing that the possibilities for both are endless.
It is empowering, although sometimes difficult, to tell others how much we appreciate or love them, or how much they have influenced our lives. I am finding it extremely helpful to take the opportunity—to make the opportunity—to do this. I felt much better after I told a dear teacher and loving friend how much her mentoring influenced my career and my success, something she had not truly realized.
Dealing with the inevitability of losses and our own mortality
Acknowledging the people we care about while they are still alive helps alleviate the feelings of “I should have told her” that often occur after a beloved friend or relative has died. This leads to one of the most difficult parts of living, whether with disability, depression, or not—the deaths of colleagues, friends, and relatives. Realizing that death is a natural part of the life cycle is easy to say, but, in reality, we are all overwhelmed by its finality. This is true even though throughout my life death has been an accepted family event, not only in older members of the family, but in 5 boys affected by the genetic disease that I share. The finality and often the rapidity of death of a beloved friend or loved one causes grief, retrospection, and introspection for me. I remember the past life we shared and my feelings of what we still could have given each other. Of course, I find myself thinking of my own disease process and the probable lessening of the length of my own life.
It is said that we have to “move on,”after the death of a loved one has been integrated into our sense of reality . . . and we do move on. But do we move on completely? Or should we endeavor to recover and keep the love of lost relationships?6 Does the essence of a person that lingers with us and made possible such a relationship end at death? The death of a loved one remains a loss with us forever. Contemplating the permanence of death thoughtfully helps me become at ease with the truly indefinable concept of infinity, and makes this life, however limited, more valuable.
If death is a state of “nothingness,”then we should consider that we were in a state of nothingness before we were conceived. Likewise, in the deepest stage of sleep we are totally unaware of our own being and, as during anesthesia, we are not conscious, but we are not in an unpleasant state. This state is probably much like death. However, there is a basic difference between our deaths and our previous nothingness: we WILL HAVE BEEN alive, and we WILL HAVE left part of ourselves hereafter. Whether this part of us is a soul, our thoughts, or a memory in the mind of a child, it is real and increases the sacredness of the life we are permitted to have. It makes our life on earth precious and our deeds on earth meaningful.
It seems imperative to me to enjoy my impermanence and to make the most of it. This is why it is important for me to relieve my depression and continue my processes of mental and emotional discovery. I am learning to gratefully accept help from others when I need it, and I am coming to grips with my feelings and ideas about mortality so I can achieve a death that is welcome, kind, and dignified. Accepting the certainty of physical decline seems to enhance the possibility of finding my soul while I am still alive, and sharing it, finding those parts of me that are most meaningful, and making my life more sacred to others. Even in my darkest moments, I am uplifted, and I feel fewer burdens from my losses when I read Pablo Neruda. Here is a portion from his poem, “Oblivion”7:
I shall go on marching, opening broad roads against the shadow, making the earth smooth, spreading the stars for those who come. Stay on the road. Night has fallen for you. Perhaps at dawn we shall see each other again.
