Life Lesson #448~ The Art of Chaos

"My prayer is that when I die, all of hell rejoices that I am out of the fight." ~C.S. Lewis

  

Wanna know the truth? I’m really not all that brave. I’m pretty much stubborn and hardheaded. That's what I am. Basically, like my cooking, I simply make it up as I go. Give me a pan, some garlic, onion, butter, add a little salt, maybe some pepper and throw in a piece or two of chicken and you’ll eat well. But hand me a spear and you just might starve. Reality is I’m no soldier. I’ve never been trained in the art of war. I don’t know strategy or how to command an army. Sure, I can pick up a shield and sword and yes, I can charge the battlefield but let’s be honest, like a stormtrooper, I’m gonna miss every time. At the end of the day, I’d say chaos is more my art than anything else.  

  

Now I certainly didn’t have a say in matters, things probably would have turned out differently if I did. Still, Chaos certainly found me and never quite let go. She knew I was a free-spirit and for some reason thought she could tame me I guess. She thought wrong. It’s not that I'm a renegade either because I’m not truly a rebel. I follow the rules, say yes ma’am and no sir. I’m simply outspoken. I don’t adhere to society’s mandates. And that can be a problem for some. Personally, I just think I have a way of thinking creatively outside the box. And yes, sometimes that gets me in trouble. A lot like Mulan, from Disney's adaptation, I’ve spent most of my life as an outcast. Chronic illness has played its part in all of it too. Didn’t matter if it was my imagination or disease I never quite fit in. As a child going out to eat was challenging. Mom always had a can of either vegetables or fruit in her bag. Sometimes both. And they made it out onto my plate every time. Tell me you can see how awkward this was in front of classmates or kids from the neighborhood? 

 I won’t lie, those cans in my mama’s bag made life hard. I hated eating sometimes, at home or out and about. But my mama had a way of easing the blows. She’d say I had a big spirit and not to worry so much about fitting in. Then she’d tell me, “Merida honey, don’t mind them. Let ’em all be. Small minds can never, ever grasp your bright soul baby.” So, when I found myself out of place, which was often, gossiped about or misunderstood, I’d stay kind, committed to my own authenticity and remind myself the world’s rejection was simply God’s way of redirecting my steps. But most of all I believed the promises of Deuteronomy 31:6 to be true. “Be determined and confident. Do not be afraid of them. Your God, the LORD himself, will be with you. He will not fail you or abandon you. “ 

  

Did I ever feel alone or abandoned? You bet I did. And I did my best to be brave, to fight back still, Chaos seemed to really like me. Till this day she never wants to go home, no matter how hard I try to coax her out the door. I wake up to her mess and go to bed aware she’s left heaps of mayhem all around the house for me to clean up. And believe me some days she’s quite busier than others. My life is a juggling act and it feels like Chaos enjoys upping the stakes a little too often. And just when I don’t think she can add anymore, she pours the whole doggone bottle into my shot glass and says, “bottoms up.”  

  

It’s just how she operates, I guess. If she’s not carrying one thing through the door, it’s another. Thirty-eight years ago she hauled type 1 diabetes into the room, thirty-one years ago she unpacked DVT, twenty-nine years ago she unwrapped Hashimoto's, Twenty years ago she surprised me with bell’s palsy and tied  a bow on a TIA, fourteen years ago it was triple negative breast cancer, followed by asthma, lymphedema, polyarthritis/ psoriatic, kidney disease, vision loss, seizures, osteoporosis, bursitis, lupus and most recently, autoimmune vasculitis, the discovery of an extra heartbeat and my least favorite, cystic fibrosis. I wish I knew who said it, but man did they hit the nail on the head. “Tired isn’t even a temporary state for me anymore. It’s just an inherent part of my personality at this point.” Seriously there are times I just feel like letting out a massive grunt and yelling, “Come on already Chaos, can we just call it a day already?” 

  

So yeah, I live with a bunch of persistent, finicky, very fussy and incurable tenants. The harsh reality of my life is no matter how many times I conquer the day or push back an illness, I’m right back where I started the next day. My life basically reads like an old Margaret Thatcher quote, “You may have to fight a battle more than once to win it.” Unfortunately, I’ll never really win the war, but you can bet your bottom dollar I’ll put a dent in it. That’s for sure. Now look. Let me be honest. I can’t say I’d choose this life with a bunch of pushy, unruly roommates freely. But nonetheless, it’s the life I live. Sure, Chaos underhandedly signed a sneaky lease behind my back and moved ‘em all in. And no matter what I do, I can’t get rid of them or ignore ‘em. Believe me I’ve thought about asking Chaos what she could possibly do next, just to be a bit cheeky, but I really don’t wanna give her any more ideas. Believe me, I’m sure she has plenty more, given the chance. 

  

This is my life. It’s the way it is. Chronic illness is part of me. I can’t change it, but I can decide how I face it on the battlefield. Yes, my whole life has been a constant dance with the Devil. He’s sneaky. I’ll give him that. And he never fails to bring Chaos with him. He might like to think he does, but he doesn’t have the upper hand. As far as I’m concerned, he’s delusional. My life is my story. God may have foreseen, even allowed the Devil and Chaos to manipulate my body, hoping illness would defeat and oppress my spirit, but that’s not how my story ends. Not at all. When it comes to how my story is written I hope Dieter F. Uchtdorf words can be applied. “It is your reaction to adversity, not the adversity itself, that determines how life’s story will develop.”  

  

My life hasn’t been a fairytale. It's not even a well written novel to be honest. It’s a bit rough around the edges, and there’s a heck of a lot of plot holes. My story is candidly honest and flawed. At eight years old I had no idea what was to come. No one could have prepared me for the pain of chronic illness or the bullies who'd literally throw punches my way or call me names. By the time I was ten I’d been bullied relentlessly. I wasn’t a cool girl. I was the freak who had to eat a snack at her desk while everyone watched and wore a bracelet declaring a disease her classmates couldn’t pronounce. Truth? I had to decide then and there how I was going to be defined...by my disabilities and illnesses or by my dreams and strengths. I chose the latter. 

  

Unfortunately, chronic illness taught me very early in life people aren’t always kind. They will not only dislike, they will ignore and hate you for the mere fact that you're different. And mark my words, they will try and break you, simply because they can. I don’t know who said it but their words are true. “Some people will never like you because your spirit irritates their demons.” And I know it to be true because I’ve borne witness to those very demons. I wasn’t born with a natural ability to survive difficulties with courage and resilience. No, by the time I was nine I had to decided not to allow what my body couldn’t do restrict what I knew my mind could. As they say, “The same boiling water that softens the potato hardens the egg. It’s about what you are made of, not the circumstances.” 

  

Like Mulan I’ve spent most of my life up against a larger than life enemy. Always in the shadows, lurking, pillaging, looking for weakness, ready to strike. I have to tell you it’s exhausting. Did Mulan feel up to the task? No, absolutely not, but she rose anyway. Mulan persisted. Even after she was wounded no one would have blamed her for giving up, into the pain or the weight of her injuries and retreating home. But she didn’t, did she? Instead Mulan understood the Chinese proverb,” It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness.” Essentially, it's simply better to do something about the problem than continue complaining about it. This is the core of today's Life Lesson #448 ~ The Art of Chaos. 

  

Bottom line is I could allow myself to fall apart, recoil in grief and bitterness. Yes, I could be angry, even resentful. I could complain, grumble and gripe and would anyone really blame me? Probably not. But would it do me any good? And that's why I chose to stand and fight even if my blaster isn’t always on point. Whatever you’re going through, don’t forget this is your story. You get a say in how it ends. As the Emperor says in Mulan, “No matter how the wind howls, the mountain cannot bow to it.” Remember that. And know whatever enemy is hiding in the shadows, you’ve trained for him. Chronic illness may be fueled by the art of my friend Chaos, but don’t forget our path is determined by how we respond to her. This one act will give you courage in the face of adversity, and allow you to bend with, instead of breaking in the wind. So stop reacting and begin responding. You'll be glad you did.

  

“Now, every time I witness a strong person, I want to know: What darkness did you conquer in your story? Mountains do not rise without earthquakes.” ~ Katherine Mackenett 

  

~Merida Grace