When I am feeling as useless as I do now, I find myself doing a lot of strange thinking, which I guess I have to explain. Strange thinking to me is when my mind starts to coast on it’s own and jump into things you usually wouldn’t know or believe you are actually bothered about. It is a little like that period of time when you are not totally asleep and your thoughts continue on the events of the day and things that happened a long time ago, your aware but briefly as you soon pass that point and it is gone, replaced with sleep and normally forgotten by the time you awake. Not being able to hold my thoughts on track just now has been like being in that state for nearly the whole day, unintentionally thinking about those things we normally hide away.
I have been through so many things in my life that would normally fill the lifetimes of several people, that I have a library of events that still need completing. Having raced through so much without thought, usually as I didn’t have the chance to think about it at the time, means I have hundred of boxes, stored for a later date, a date that seems to have arrived again. Yesterday and this morning I have found myself located in my childhood, which to those who read both my blogs, already have taken glimpses into. When we are children we just accept what happens to us without great questioning as we have nothing to gauge our own lives against. I had several major traumatic events between the age of 12 and 16, the types of things that if you watch TV are used as excuses for criminal behavior. In those 3 and a half years I was raped, ran away from home, my parents divorced, I had 3 schools, I was abused and beaten up by my father, taken into care, dabbled with drugs, had foster parent for a few months and then aged just 15 housed in the YWCA where I was totally responsible for myself, but with the social work department in the background, left school 3 months before my 16th birthday and once employed had no support of any kind, other than myself from then on. What has been going round and round though for the past couple of days is what is it in me that I have no hatred or anger for any of this. Why am I the person I am and able to say, this happened and this is the way it was, so what. It is that same attitude that I have to my MS, it has happened so what get on with your life. Something somewhere has made me the way I am, but if I believed the stories now on the TV about abuse I should be a total mess, but I’m not?
I have always spoken freely about all these things and not once tried to do anything to them in return. I know that it is because of a story in the news right now that has stirred this line of thought, but I still feel no different, what I am sure of is that my attitude to my illness comes from something that happened when I was young as it shaped my reaction. I seem to absorb what ever happens and work with it, even when I was a teenager I have no memory of being devastated by any of the things that happened, I just brushed myself down and moved on. I have been asked often how I manage to deal with everything and keep going and no matter how hard I try to find the answer to that question all I can come up with is that I was born this way. I wish I could explain it, find a reason or a formula that I could pass on and make others lives easier but I can’t, all I find is one thing and one thing only, you have to accept what ever it is as done, fit it into your life if you like and move on with it, without regret or spite because other wise it will eat away at you all the time, rather than the odd trip back there because of a trigger on the news. I can’t change the past, I can’t change the fact I have MS but I can choose to live with it and I can choose to accept it.