Beauty in the Mountain

Real Living with Multiple Sclerosis, May 2004 by Tofteland, Marcia T

Author copes with MS by searching within herself.

THIS MONTH I AM looking to you for support. Curt, my husband, was my "guru" for many years and helped me to more clearly delve into the spiritual realities of my physical circumstances. More recently, he has appropriately left me to walk my path alone. . .which is the only way it can be walked.

I have always thought of myself as a "people person," and I am. Evidence of that exists at the essence of everything in my life; my spirit seems to reach out to others. But I face a reality in stark contrast to all of my internal and external instincts. What I'm stretching toward today is the paradox of needing people in my life while accepting much isolation of my individual life path. I realize (but do I accept?) that true strength can only come with the quiet of isolation.

I yearn to grow into a calmness of spirit which will allow me to accept quiet and aloneness as an opportunity to know my higher self and the force of creation. I have a long way to go, even after all these years. Though aloneness is a reality much of the time, quiet of mind (and mouth) is something I find hard to achieve.

My alienation and isolation are more literal than that of the able-bodied person who explores his or her soul in the necessary solitude but can participate in the "normal" activities of the physical world. My reality: I am outside of functional life as we know it. In every physical sense, I am an observer of functional life, no longer a participant.

For example, I occasionally wait in the car while Curt (or someone) goes into the grocery for a few items. The time I have spent in parking lots has made me a keen observer of the "mundane" activities of life. I watch people, hassled from a long day, drag themselves out of their car and dash into the grocery. I see them return a few minutes later looking angry, with a gallon of milk, probably forgotten during an earlier trip to the store. Sometimes I watch a young mother with a few children. She's loading several bags of groceries, while juggling the kids and getting them appropriately secured in her car. And I watch a young couple, arms wound around each other, laughing as they go into the store.

Do these people realize how lucky they are to be able to shop for a gallon of milk on the way home from a busy day at work? Do they know how wonderful it is to be caught up in the current of living? Can they find joy in the "mundane" business of life?

My isolation and seeming alienation are causing more pain within my life than I can describe. It's ironic, that even as my MS became more physically disabling, I was becoming stronger rationally, emotionally, spiritually, and metaphysically. While the calm, strength, and security brought by that kind of growth are rewarding in themselves, it's probable that my spirit was somehow protecting itself. I waited until I had the beginnings of a strong foundation in those centers of being, before spiritually slamming headfirst into the mirror that reflects my physical self and all the accompanying realities and consequences.

The human physical self should be the manifestation of our rational, emotional, spiritual, and metaphysical selves. I have a painful time accepting that I have no grace of movement, no tender touch. I am a passionate person. I feel things passionately and did, when I was able, express myself passionately. But now, I have no capability for the physical expression of passion. I'm unable to express love in any of the traditional physical ways that we're accustomed.

I'm mourning my loss of physical self, even as my appreciation of physical life grows. The thoughts that accompany this grief are dark. While looking squarely into the reality of the loss of physical expression, a destructive "shadow self" torments me. I'm haunted by terrible images of the consequences of this loss. I haven't yet found a way to silence these inner demons.

I hate what this situation is doing to Curt. His life has been impacted as mine. Fortunately, he's a remarkably well-centered human being. I know in my soul he's with me because he wants to be. But even though I don't doubt his love or commitment, I know that the "noise" from my mind and mouth are a frustration for him; I miss the "us" that once existed. Our loss of a relationship that can function normally in the world has been devastating to me, and I have feelings of guilt over it.

I know guilt is a destructive and useless emotion. Nevertheless, I feel guilt for being the cause of hardship in his life and guilt for not wanting him to experience "normal" life with someone else. I hate that in myself-how incredibly selfish. My intellect tells me I'm not responsible for what has happened to us, but these aren't impulses based in my rational center, rather they live in my emotional center. Why am I going through all of this again? Has my "acceptance" been a sham all along?

Climbing the mountain

I'm having a very difficult time seeing this part of my journey as growth. Though, I know it is. The climb is treacherous, and while I can't see it now, I know there's another side of this mountain. I'm starting to realize that I must find beauty in the mountain, no matter how high it rises. When I can find beauty, calm, and contentment in the mountain itself, then, and only then, will I rediscover my passionate sense of joy and celebration in life.