I’ve shared in a previous post about my friend Shelly who is living with ALS. She is an amazing woman and her daughter Lacey is equally amazing. She is so wise, caring and rooted in faith at such a young age.
This is an entry that Shelly’s daughter did a few weeks ago.
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Sometimes I want to feel bad for myself. My mother was given a fatal diagnosis of two to five years, no would would blame me. I want to feel bad for my mom, watching her lose the ability to do the things we all take for granted. Sometimes I want to be angry. I want to be mad at all the people on my news feed complaining about their problems that feel so small compared to mine.
I want to be angry my mom is being robbed of the ability to chase my daughter around the house like the rest of the family does. Sometimes I want to be scared. Scared of the grim future the doctors have prepared us for. Scared of losing my mother.
But then I stop, take a breath and think about it. My family has been given a gift; the gift to live life for what it truly is. We are no longer distracted by worldly things that have no meaning. We take the time to say, “I love you, you are so important to me,” any chance we get. We have been given an opportunity to spend what time we have left with purpose and meaning, because no one is promised tomorrow.
My mom told me, “stupid motor neurons or not, I wouldn’t trade my life with anyone.” I am finally starting to understand what she means. People can choose to feel sorry for themselves, or they can choose to be grateful. We can choose to be angry at our circumstances, or we can find the blessings and choose happiness. We can choose to be scared, or we can have faith and be brave.
At the end of the day, we all have struggles and we all fall on hard times. No ones struggles are less than or greater than mine. The pain someone feels when their boyfriend cheats on them is as real as the pain I feel watching my mom getting frustrated with her circumstances and crying. The pain someone feels when their best friend betrays them is as real as the pain a new mom feels looking at her newborn in the NICU. The pain someone feels when they are called fat or ugly is as real as the pain someone feels when they are abandoned or alone. All pain is real, it’s how you choose to let it effect you that matters.
If I had one wish it would be that everyone I know could find this truth without having to face their own mortality. Live like you are dying is such a cliche thing to say, but what if you were? Would you let your current situation hold you hostage the way you are now?
Till the next time,
Julie