In recent years, I have been able to use meditative practice to come to terms with my various illnesses and, at times, transcend them. When I am able to separate myself from negative thoughts and emotions such as fear and resentment, and from uncomfortable physical experiences such as pain and fatigue, I affirm once again that I am much more than my body, my illness, or my thoughts.
Looking at it another way, chronic illness has given me the opportunity to enlarge my identity. I have gradually been able to discover and explore new dimensions of myself—my inner spirit, my essence, my soul, and the presence and power of God within.
Those who suffer from chronic illness wonder from time-to-time if there is a meaning or purpose for their suffering and, of course, each of us must find our own answers to this question. I have come to believe that illness is a spiritual teacher. As a result of these teachings my life has taken on new meaning.
THOUGHT FOR TODAY
I am so much more than my illness.
February 6
“Feed your faith, and doubt will starve to death.”
ANONYMOUS
In the early stages of illness, we vowed that we would do everything possible to halt the progress of our disease and heal. Spirituality was high on our list of priorities. We believed that a Higher Power could help us get well and we felt that prayer and meditation would bring us closer to that goal.
Along the way, some of us were sidetracked by the unspoken yet persistent thought that God was somehow responsible for our illness. Maybe He was punishing us, or perhaps He simply didn’t care. Either way, we felt that at times God had let us down—and we were angry at Him.
Not surprisingly, these confused feelings weakened our trust, and prevented us from fully availing ourselves of God’s power and love. During that trying period, it was difficult to put our faith to work.
When we finally shared these feelings with close friends or spiritual advisors, we were gently reminded that the dilemma was of our own making. The reality of God hadn’t changed; nor had His divine plan for our ultimate well-being. His unconditional love for us was as strong as ever. The only thing that had temporarily changed, influenced by illness, was our perception of God.
THOUGHT FOR TODAY
Forever and ever, God is on my side and at my side.
February 7
“Modest doubt is called the beacon of the wise.”
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Now that we’re sick, we have to learn to care for ourselves in entirely new ways. Often, we wonder if we’re “doing it right.” We fret about mistakes we may have made, and we agonize about tasks we are no longer able to undertake or promises we are unable to keep.
We berate ourselves for occasionally giving in to our cravings for certain foods, knowing they are the worst possible things we could eat. We feel guilty when we allow ourselves to sleep all day. But we hate to wake up, because at least when we’re asleep we’re not in pain. We torment ourselves when we’re not in the best mood or when we haven’t been able to control our disposition.
When we have these painful feelings, let’s try to remember that there is no “correct” way to experience illness. If there is a common denominator in every illness, it is uncertainty. Nevertheless, we can always reach out for advice, strive to achieve balance in every area, and do our very best each day to maintain self-respect and dignity.
THOUGHT FOR TODAY
Am I adding to my burdens by doubting myself?
February 8
“They must often change who would be constant in happiness or wisdom.”
CONFUCIUS
Some of us occasionally excuse our childish or inappropriate behavior by thinking or saying, “Well, that’s just the way I am. I can’t help it.” When illness has us in its thrall, we may be tempted to fall back on that self-serving rationalization more frequently.
When pain and fatigue are especially acute, we probably should relax normal restraints to some extent. However, that doesn’t mean we should allow ourselves unlimited behavioral latitude when we’re feeling poorly.
By thinking or saying, “That’s just the way I am, I can’t help it,” aren’t we really telling ourselves that we can’t change and won’t ever change? Aren’t we insisting that we have no choice or power concerning our emotions and behavior? And, in order to justify self-will running riot, aren’t we making it clear that we’re quite willing to accept these self-imposed limitations?
No matter how severe or debilitating a physical illness may be, we always have some control over our attitudes and actions. We always have choices. And we always have spiritual tools which, when applied, allow us to meet life with an unbound and tranquil spirit.
THOUGHT FOR TODAY
I can change, but first I have to be willing to change.
February 9
“The man with insight enough to admit his limitations comes nearest to perfection.”
JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE
Your mom called today to confirm plans for dinner and a movie tomorrow night. Your initial response was, “Great, I’m looking forward to it.” But then common sense overrode your enthusiasm. You realized you couldn’t predict how you would be feeling tomorrow, so you told your mother you’d have to let her know in the morning.
Later, you began to feel sad and demoralized. You hated to make your mother wonder and worry. You hated having to leave the plans up in the air. And those feelings were intensified because you’ve always taken pride in your ability to keep commitments, and because you’ve always felt good about being dependable and responsible.
Times are changing, and clearly so. And from now on you are going to do your best, as gracefully as possible, to change along with them. You’ll try to be as understanding and as patient with yourself as others have been with you. You’ll fight off the idea that you have suddenly become irresponsible, undependable, or unstable. You’ll remind yourself that today’s limitations have nothing at all to do with the kind of person you are.
THOUGHT FOR TODAY
The illness affects my body, not my values or moral fiber.
February 10
“He prepares to go mad with fixed rule and method.”
HORACE
It was 2:00 a.m., and the sound of the electric drill awakened my wife. When she came into the living room I explained that I was bolting the bookcase to the wall to prevent it from falling during the next earthquake. “It’s been on my list for a long time,” I added feebly. She shook her head with dismay and suggested I finish in the morning.
The incident forced me to take a hard look at my willingness to be tyrannized by “to do” lists. It occurred to me that each notation on my list usually begins as a random thought. By writing it down and