How “Acceptance” can lead to Happiness

A few weeks ago, I was triggered by an certain events to give some serious thought regarding “acceptance” of a chronic condition as a philosophy. And then of course, I had to wonder: why do we seek acceptance in the first place?

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On a practical level, acceptance can mean that we are finally in tune with our bodies, and are working it without overworking it. Thus, we are able to find some sort of a steady state for ourselves, where the ups and downs are not too high or too low. This, of course, is a reason all by itself to accept an unpredictable and often brutal illness like fibromyalgia!

But I feel like the true essence of why we seek acceptance lies in its emotional impact. A state of acceptance promotes a state of happiness.

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Chronic illnesses are difficult beasts to deal with. I had previously likened fibromyalgia to being in an abusive relationship, in many ways. It is the invisible partner in my life, who beats me black and blue from time to time, often for no apparent reason. Such chronic conditions can be extremely frustrating to try to build a life around.

When one is in denial of a chronic condition, I feel that is akin to an all-out physical battle between the self and illness. The self wants to make no room for the illness; and the illness retaliates with resentment, and wishes to annihilate the self! On the other end of the spectrum, when one is resigned to the chronic illness, they have given up the fight completely, the enemy is camping out in the self, ravaging it from within. Both states leave the chronic illness sufferer feeling very helpless, as they struggles with losing control over their bodies, and their lives in general. Neither is conducive to seeking happiness with a chronic illness.

Somewhere along that continuum lies acceptance. Here, there is no all-out battle; neither is there a simple surrender. It is more of a quiet, deliberate, game of chess between the self and illness. Each calculates their move carefully; and if played right, the self usually gets the upper hand!

So how can acceptance lead to a state of happiness?

1. By offering PERSPECTIVE. Accepting a chronic illness does not mean being OK with half a glass of water, or even necessarily thinking it is “half full.” In my view, acceptance offers a realist’s perspective, where the glass is both “half full” and “half empty.” The chronic illness may have taken a lot from us, but we still have a lot of us left! Accepting the condition means taking both into account. We may have lost our energetic selves and left counting spoons through the day; but we still have our goals and interests! Being able to keep sight of the fact that we remain “ourselves,” underneath the burden of poor health, helps the happiness quotient!

2. By encouraging a PROBLEM-SOLVING attitude. Once we accept the chronic condition, we begin to acknowledge the associated problems and limitations, and then find practical solutions to them. Instead of the illness itself, the focus now is on overcoming the limitations the chronic condition imposes. This problem-solving attitude puts us back in charge! We can begin to plot how to rebuild our lives around the chronic condition. It is a way of regaining some control over our lives that the chronic illness may have snatched from us. Nobody likes to feel tossed around on the choppy waves like a rudderless boat. The feeling that we still have some power to steer our lives in a satisfactory direction, albeit perhaps towards an alternative to the original one planned, is an important ingredient in the recipe for happiness.

3. By promoting INNER PEACE. A combination of the understanding that the chronic illness does not fundamentally change who we are, and that we can continue to be somewhat in charge of how we work around it, promotes a sense of inner peace. We learn to identify that the chronic illness is a part of us, but that it is only one part of us (out of very many)! Once we have made some level of peace with that, it limits self-doubt that is often triggered by others who doubt us and/or our diagnoses/conditions. It all promotes a level of inner peace that I think is crucial to find a state of happiness, if not the very essence of happiness itself.

Most of my “happiness philosophy” stems purely from my own experiences, both from long-term growth as well as brief moments of revelation, followed by long periods of meditation on my experiences. But it’s interesting to see how much of it aligns with the current research on what makes people happy! Yet “happiness” is a very personal thing, with each person having their own definition of what happiness means to them.

But there is also a higher level unity in human psychology. People from almost any part of the world, belonging to any religion or any culture, generally find happiness when they feel like the universe is their friend, instead of it trying to thwart their every move. They find happiness when they can see themselves, and their trials and tribulations, in perspective, instead of feeling like they are being manipulated by unseen hands. And no matter how one defines what core happiness means to them, cultivating a state of mental peace is crucial regardless. In fact for many, that state of inner peace, itself, is what they might call happiness!

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Heartbeat – a digital abstract series focusing on the unity of minds in search of acceptance and happiness

It can be very difficult, however, to not feel like the universe is playing nasty practical jokes on you when you suffer from a chronic illness. And cultivating a state of peace amidst the inner turmoil can be difficult indeed. But accepting that illness may be the first step to emotional healing! As I said in my previous post, however, the road acceptance is not a straight path, and the very state of acceptance is along a continuum, and ever-changing like a dune. But regardless, in looking into ourselves to seek it anyway, we might unlock the secrets of finding our secret source of happiness.

Love,

Fibronacci

What is “Acceptance”?

“Fibromyalgia is kind of like my logical nature, there’s no point wishing I was different regarding either!” So went my thoughts one day, that landed me in a long reverie about what it meant to me that I had absorbed my diagnosis like so. I had written before about what acceptance meant to me on a practical level. But now I wondered, what does acceptance, as a philosophy, mean to those of us with a chronic illness?

Featured painting: Guided by the Lights (8X10, oil on canvas)

I think of acceptance as lying on a continuum between denial and resignation:

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Denial:

In a nutshell: The chronic illness does not tell me who I am or what I can do!
Keynote: Defiance

On one end, there is extreme denial that a chronic illness even exists. Often, this results in massive overexertion, leading to increased pain and fatigue. So one rests, feels better, and starts pushing their body’s limits almost too soon after, landing themselves back in a state of flare. The huge hills-and-valleys in the state of their health takes a toll on the mind. Frustration gives way to a strong sense of grief and loss, even depression. Nothing they do feels like it’s enough. They feel inadequate in their new state, like a shadow of their former self. So they do everything possible to act as if nothing happened, and carry on with their old lives, in order to feel like less of a failure. And the vicious cycle continues, amidst a general state of mental and physical anguish.

Resignation:

In a nutshell: My chronic illness is who I am.
Keynote: Capitulation

On the other end is what I call resignation. This is where one has lost their mojo, they see no point in fighting the illness at all (perhaps after a long fight with it already), frequently in a state of depression. The combination leads to being involved in too little activity, which can slowly result in deconditioning of muscles and joints, making it even harder to move and participate in meaningful activities. One begins to wonder what is the point of even trying, if that only makes the pain and fatigue worse. They often lose any social circle they may have once had, thus feeling more and more isolated. Loss of job- or hobby-related activities can make it feel like their lives lack any meaning, leaving only a shell of their former selves. All hope for any light at the end of the tunnel — or even an end at all! — has withered to ashes. The resulting mental toll pushes them to retreat even further into their shell, thus compounding the vicious cycle.

Acceptance:

In a nutshell: The chronic illness may dictate what I can do, but not what I can be.
Keynote: Determination

Somewhere in the middle of that spectrum, I imagine, is acceptance. This is where one recognizes that there is a new kid on the block, namely a chronic illness, that wants to “play” too. The kid can throw a lot of temper-tantrums and really bring them down, but they are stuck with each other. So they may throw a few blows at each other, but ultimately, they know they have to get along — somehow! This is where one makes peace with their body and listens to it carefully, yet they don’t stop fighting the illness invading that body either! Acceptance does not mean that one is necessarily OK with their limitations, but realize that it is to their advantage to acknowledge what they are. And yet, they don’t allow the limitations to define them either! They continue to engage in the activities that lend meaning to their lives, but on different terms than before — on terms their body can reasonably manage. Like a good coach, one pushes the body, without pushing it over the edge!

I don’t mean to imply that these three states are quite as far away from each other as the neat little line diagram might make it seem. It really probably is much more like this:

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I imagine acceptance is a point of “happy-medium” that is in a state of dynamic equilibrium. There is a healthy dollop of both rebellion and submission, but they are balanced in just the right proportions so that it evens out. A bit like destructive interference between oppositely-oriented feelings, which each make waves, but together it’s a recipe for being able to find inner peace.

Dealing with a chronic illness is complicated, and there are many shades of grey. One does not move in a clear path when seeking their state of acceptance. It is a convoluted mess of feelings, with a lot of going back and forth, until one finds their own “happy-medium,” where they are most at peace with themselves. And this “happy-medium” may not always be the same either. It could change with age, experience, addition of new symptoms, alleviation of old ones, gains in perspective, changes in support structure, and a host of other factors! And even after finding, readjusting and fine-tuning this point of “happy-medium,” one may not always be at peace! But for many of us with chronic illnesses, it may simply be enough to be able to feel the calm most of the time!

That, at the moment, is my idea of acceptance.

Gentle hugs,

Fibronacci

A Lesson in Perspective and Acceptance

Is the glass half full or half empty? In one’s mind, it may be either, depending on whether they bend towards a more optimistic or pessimistic view of the world. But in reality, it is both. Admitting this realist perspective offers an opportunity to cultivate acceptance, which can then lead to happiness!

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There was a perfect storm of unpleasant events about a week ago. Allergy season brought on a sneeze-fest, which triggered intense spasms in my back, that then wound up my muscles up in a knot most sailors would be envious of. The back tension spread to the neck and head, eventually bringing on a bout of recurrent migraines, complete with the ice pick stabs, aura, and symptoms of trigeminal neuralgia. After waking up in the middle of one of the worst attacks of the series, I painted a dream image titled “No End in Sight.”

I will not lie, I intended it to be every bit as depressing as the title sounds. At the time, the pain felt relentless. By this time, I had been in a flare more days these past few months than I have been “normal.” I tried to encapsulate complicated feelings of hope and hopelessness, pain and exhaustion, the desire to keep trudging and the desire to just stop, all at once, in the painting below.

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No End in Sight (a journey through time)

And yet, a friend, one far better versed in chronic pain than myself, planted an idea in my head that helped me see this image differently. She pointed out how his burden gets lighter with time! And that sprouted a thought in my mind: perhaps he is not giving up after all! Perhaps his perspective has just shifted, and he is simply accepting that he is stuck in the desert for the moment, that there is no use fighting it, so he might as well accept his current situation. As he tries to find peace within himself (note the hermit look by the end), even under the less-than-stellar circumstances, his “burden” is made lighter.

Though this might seem like a silly optimist’s game of what-do-you-see-in-the-picture, ultimately, perspective is all that matters. I felt it acutely on the 4th day of my recurrent migraines, when I felt momentarily delighted to wake up with my regular all-over fibro pains! This meant that my headache intensity had now lowered enough for me to feel pain elsewhere on the body! Of course, that delight was short-lived once the spasms started reasserting themselves, and another migraine attack followed shortly thereafter. But in that bizarre moment when I was happy about fibro pain, I learned an important lesson in how much our perspective on a situation determines our response to it, much more so than the situation itself.

I do not believe that one needs to be an optimist to find happiness in tough situations; one only needs to be a realist. If you are wondering if the glass is half empty or half full, I would argue that it is both! No situation is all good or all bad (despite chronic illnesses tending towards the latter). As an example, I recognized that because of the rest that my unwelcome migraine forced on me, I am in less pain overall (for most of the day) than I have been in months! Being able to see both the good and the bad of fibromyalgia and its associated maladies have helped me accept things for what they are. And with acceptance comes some measure of inner peace, which then translates to happiness.

I have written in the past about what acceptance means to me on a practical level, but not much about what acceptance, as a concept, might mean (or what it might not!). And though I have implied the role of “acceptance” in finding happiness with a chronic illness, it doesn’t much help those still in search of either. So I have decided to do a series of posts after this one, talking a little about what acceptance means from my perspective; how it can lead to happiness (or at least, less frustration); and finally, some of the ways by which I think I was able to achieve that state of mental stability. I hope that my insights can reach somebody still in search of these ideas, and that they may spark thoughts in their minds that lead to their own personal definition of acceptance and happiness!

Love,

Fibronacci

Reflections on Graduate School, Academia, and the Way Forward

This week, I successfully defended my doctoral dissertation, and added my name to a long list of Ph.D.s in biology – and a shorter list of those with a chronic illness.

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How a fibromyalgiac gets a Ph.D.!

As I have researched the case for disabled and/or chronically ill scientists, I realized that there may actually be more of us out there, all hiding our own plights (if invisible), so as not to be viewed “differently” at best, or ostracized at worst, by our colleagues. Many have quit science altogether because of its notoriously performance-driven culture, which allows little room to show “weakness.” Yet there may be many more of us who are still striving for our own goals in science, wishing to contribute our curiosity and intellect to better the world, and wanting to make a mark independent of our diagnoses. My thoughts are for all of us today.

Featured image: Distorted Reflections (8X10, oil on canvas)

I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia halfway through graduate school. I have been tackling random aches and pains, migraines, etc. since my teen years, but sometimes I wonder if the grad school lifestyle is what triggered any latent tendencies for central sensitization, leading to fibromyalgia.

I have no regrets, however. I always thought that if mathematics and physics are what helps us understand the universe and everything in it, biology is what helps us understand why we can even think about it! So to be able to reach a terminal degree in biology, understand ourselves from a molecular standpoint, showed me that I am capable of not just partaking in this world, but also contributing to it. Here, finally, I could apply my logical and analytical thinking towards human health, instead of just using it to aggravate my parents who had no time to argue.

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What NOT to say to a chronically ill person

I will admit that at times I thought of quitting, and I am glad that I did not. I was lucky enough to have projects that allowed me to be very prolific through the first couple of years, so I was well on my way towards a successful Ph.D. before FM even hit me. It would have been sad to see that work not reach fruition. I was also able to wrack up enough “karma points” by then, through my diligence and good reputation, that I could afford to slow down but still keep trudging. Luckily, graduate school in an academic institution affords the kind of flexibility that I may never experience in any other setting. So all the reasons to quit were psychological, nothing logistical.

Psychology can be powerful enough to transform us and shape our decisions. With some practice, and within reason, we can learn retrain our brains to think of current obstacles as future achievements. The hardest part about continuing grad school was not that I felt I couldn’t do the work. It was, instead, the loss of respect I felt at every turn when I could not keep up my former hours, or work at the same speed – the perception that I was now somehow weak or less than I was before. A large part of this was not necessarily just other people, but also “academic conditioning” that was haunting me from within my subconscious. But regardless of this general no-room-for-weakness atmosphere, or perhaps precisely because of it, I learned to see myself as quite the opposite of how they would have liked to paint me.

I realized that, because of my experiences, I was stronger and more than I was before!

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Anima (8X10, oil on canvas) — my internal warrior & heroine!

One thing I recognized since being more selectively open about my diagnosis is that everyone is fighting their own battles. But one is not made a hero for just fighting, or even winning, a battle. One is made a hero for how they fight it. I decided I was going to fight mine, and fight mine well. I felt increasingly that it was not enough, any longer, to just try to be a good graduate student, or strive for women scientists, or be a feminist voice for career-women in the conventional sense. I had to find within me to be more than that.

I decided that I will strive to be a better person because of my struggles, internally as well as externally. 

I will learn to be more compassionate (towards myself, as well as others who may not always be understanding of my condition); I will try to reengage in interests I may have lost touch with (so I am not beholden to the one deity, science); and I will be even more introspective than I was before, learn more about myself, so I can carve out a new identity for myself as I move forward.

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Drawn into the Light (7X14, oil on canvas)

Once upon a time, I used to be naive enough to think you can get whatever you want, be whatever you want, as long as you work hard enough for it. But life makes too many decisions for you, and often at very critical stages, so that is not always possible. Once upon a time, I had dreams of being able to follow my intellectual curiosity wherever it took me. The reality, however, is that if I did that, I would be potentially looking at 60-hour work weeks with little time for rest. I would be a flaring mess of pain and fatigue if I followed that route!

But it is not impossible to reimagine ourselves, our interests, our desires, and channel them into another path. The last two years of my life, trudging through grad school with FM, I have spent a lot of time focused inward. I have questioned what I like and why I like it, and how I can do it differently in a way that is conducive to a healthier lifestyle. I have also had to untrain my brain from thinking my intellectual pursuits are automatically married to academia. Once I did that, I could see the different possibilities that may still be out there for me.

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Reimagine the possibilities!

So by no means is this the end of the road for me. I like to think of it as a fresh beginning. I have gained insights through my years as a graduate student with a chronic illness that I could not have gained otherwise. It formed a preface to my life’s goal, which is learning how to merge my health needs with my intellectual ones without completely giving up my ambitions. The next years will write the chapters on how (and if) I am successful in ever attaining it.

I look forward in continuing my journey forward, and sharing any insights with you. Thank you for accompanying me so far in this roller-coaster ride that led to my Ph.D.!

Love,

Fibronacci

Weekly Photo Challenge: Earth

There is so much beauty in all the seasons we experience living on our planet. Yet, all too frequently, I find myself complaining about the heat, or the cold, or the rain because of how I flare every time the weather changes. The frustration that the unpredictability of my condition brings results in a narrowing of my consciousness. That, in turn, renders me unable to enjoy the beauty of nature, many a time, because I associated that with pain and/or fatigue.

But even when I am fatigued, the roses still bloom in the summer, and define beauty with their colors! Despite the increased stiffness in the winter, sunshine on the snow still spell magical delight. Spring and fall, with their allergies and migraines, nonetheless bring gorgeous colors befitting a fairy tale to our earthly lands.

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The Spirit of the Seasons (collage)

So I often feel selfish for judging the seasonal variations for its impact on me, instead of recognizing it as a beautiful, joyous element in its own right. Instead, I yearn to be free of all “associations” when I observe nature, so I can enjoy true beauty for beauty’s sake!

It is my hope that, one day, my art can help me transcend the trappings of my aching body, and expand my consciousness, such that I can really feel one with the Earth and all that is bigger than ourselves.

The collage of my paintings (Spirit of the Seasons) is an attempt to inch closer to that state of being. I hoped to use colors and textures to really feel each season, to absorb its allure, instead of it being solely a visual depiction of items we associate with a certain time of the year.

It is my way of paying homage to nature – the ultimate artist that paints “Mother Earth”!

Gentle hugs,

Fibronacci

The Joy of Painting

I haven’t talked much about painting or the painting process in this blog, but it has been one of the most important ways I have been able to handle my fibromyalgia diagnosis. There is so much more to painting than what meets the eye. It is not just mixing paints and adding color. As I discovered one day – much to my own surprise – painting is a state of being!

Painting allows me to depict my world and my experiences the way I see it. It gives me the freedom to explore my frame of mind. It is a safe space where I can unleash my pain, sorrow, frustration, anger, confusion, joy and creativity. In the security of the studio, surrounded by the paints and brushes, I have the power to create a physical embodiment of my emotions. Then in choosing to share that piece of my inner world, I allow others to feel a portion of my feelings. It gives me freedom and power to accept, to portray, to share, and with only as much depth and complexity as I would like.

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Spring Snow (8X10, oil on canvas)

What does the painting of the dense woods on a snowy day make you think/feel?

With an illness like fibromyalgia, which has often left me feeling alone and misunderstood, painting has opened up a safe avenue for a dialogue with the world. An emotional painting forces engagement with the viewer. A desperately private person, I feel uneasy opening up my own mind, heart and soul. So my paintings have been a window into my world! I prefer this mode of conversation, in many ways, because I do not have to explain my situation to anyone. An emotional painting does not necessarily force the audience into the artist’s mind. It makes them look into their own, through the prism of their own experiences, and find within them the emotions that the painting embodies or evokes.

I have found security in being able to paint, both as a way of exploration as well as expression. And in a surprising way, that has really helped me deal with the many aspects of my chronic condition.

Love,

Fibronacci

Tough Realizations (Part II)

After a recent particularly bad flare, I had to make a difficult decision to walk away from a field in which I realized I was not welcome at anymore. If I stayed, I would constantly be forced to push myself beyond what I was physically capable of, and would still not be able to meet expectations. So you would think the separation would be mutual and amicable; yet it is not.

In many ways, I feel like I am still very tied to my work identity (although it’s been a work in progress detangling myself from it). Being a “scientist” is one of the major ways I identify myself. Every other descriptor I could think of – artist, woman, chronic illness fighter, etc. – are all farther down the list. When I think of descriptors of myself, “relationship phrases” don’t show up very high either. Many people identify themselves strongly as a parent (father/mother) or child (son/daughter) or spouse (husband/wife), or in other such relationship terms. I have trouble with that. I have always been a painfully independent person, almost to the point of being a loner. And I suspect it is the associated loss of both personal and financial independence, that comes with being ill and out of work, that is at the core of why it has been so hard for me to face the fact that I just need to take a break to focus on my health for a while.

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I am tired of pretending I am stronger than I am . . . so why can I not STOP?

The loss of personal freedom has been something I have been constantly struggling with since developing fibromyalgia. While I can be great at offering and providing help, I absolutely suck at seeking and accepting it! It took me a while to even recognize that I had my partner in my court, and that its OK to lean on him and allow him to help me. It made a world of difference once I let myself be helped with my day to day tasks! And for once, I felt comfortable enough being helped that I never realized how hard it would be physically to live without that help!

Living in a small town, my chances of getting a job here were pretty minuscule, especially in science. For many years, I kind of saw this as a boon because I hated being trapped in one place for too long, and this place seemed to come with its own time limit. But now that it was time for me to move on and take a job in a different part of the country, I had to seriously consider how I would manage a demanding full-time job with other issues like uncertain transportation (potentially a lot of walking), cleaning, cooking, laundry, bathing/hair washing, and a myriad other day to day things that I often need help with. All of the little things that didn’t even merit a thought in my brain at one time are now all serious issues that have the potential to wipe me out and flatten me on my back for days.

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Accepting help is its own kind of strength

I realized that for the first time, I actually need my husband to be with me, physically, and help me out! Not to mention, I would also need him financially, if I were jobless, and not just to provide general subsistence (a shared need), but also for my healthcare needs (a very personal one). And I have never needed anyone in that way before. As a person who prizes her independence, that realization – that I might really need someone now – was one of the toughest I have ever had to come face to face with.

My husband knows how hard that is for me. In fact, he has always known it. That is why he has never made big deal of helping me – he just did it quietly and unassumingly – and made a point of doing so without treating me like an invalid. I feel like very few people are lucky to have that kind of love in their lives. And that is why – perhaps what has been even tougher for me to face – is that even that kind of selfless love does not make up for the sense of loss that I feel due to my illness.

This realization has been really hard for me because it is almost like admitting his love is not enough, despite everything he does for me all the time. And it makes me feel guilty, because he has been the only constant force through many of the things that I have been battling for many years. Yet it is not as if I am not grateful to him and for him. But it is the gratitude that one might feel for nurses when interned at a hospital. It’s great to have that tender loving care, but they would much rather never be in the hospital in the first place!

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It is through the snow that spring bursts through!

Though, in some ways I wish I never had to face these harsh realizations, in other ways I am grateful for them. It has given me a chance to really think about why my work identity matters so much to me. Why am I so loathed to accept help? Why do I feel this insane need for independence? It has given me an opportunity to delve deeper into myself and work on long-standing issues that I may never have otherwise. So as a person who craves new and varied experiences, as unpleasant as this one is, I still see it as an adventure! I am still expecting good things to come out of this time of uncertain and difficult realizations. I may be a ship in a bottle for now, but that doesn’t stop me from still looking out towards the sea.

Love,

Fibronacci