Independent-itis

    I must  confess something to my blogdom. I suffer from a disease identified as independent-itis. There is a cure for this malady but often people don't want to pay the price. The cure  is simple, inexpensive, and available to all who seek it. It's simply humbling yourself and admitting you need help. Parkinson's helped cure me of my independent-itis.

    Pre-PD I had an awful case of this disease. I was Eileen Zygarlicke, and I could do it on my own, thank you very much. I was raised to be a strong, independent person, and that is who I became. If I had a problem, I would figure it out on my own. I must admit, indepentent-itis served me well. It helped me project exactly the facade I wanted to convey. Often, with this disease, it's not uncommon for the sick to suffer  from other ancillary defects as well. I suffered from intimdation-itis, causing those I came in contact with to be totally intimidated by me. It took a while for the effects of this illness to pass away so the person I'd come in contact with could see the real me, the unintimdating me.

    I must say, if you have to have a disease, this wasn't so bad. Sure, it alienated me from people and caused me to feel isolated and alone at times, too, but that was a small price to pay for gaining the effects of this disease. It made me feel invincible and strong.

  But that all changed with Parkinson's. I no longer have that intimidating demeanor. Just looking at me you can tell I'm not independent. No, PD cured me of that. In my former life, I didn't need help from anyone. If I couldn't do it myself, then it wasn't worth doing. Now, that malady no longer exists in my being. I ask for help regularly. Most people eagerly comply with my request. I mostly ask for people to hold doors open for me. But there are other asks, too. What I've noticed  in all this is that people want to help others. In fact, I'm doing them a favor by asking for assistance. 

    And I've gained from this cure as well. I've learned to swallow my pride and ask. Someone once said that one of the blessings of illness is learning to ask for help. Initially, my independent-itis flared up and I refused to see the wisdom of that statement. Instead, I balked at it. But the more I pondered it, the wiser the words became to me. It's a blessing to admit you can't do everything on your own. We are a society that needs others. And there's nothing wrong with admitting that. The wise words should say this: One of the blessings of living is learning to ask for help.

    So I may have Parkinson's, but I'm no longer afflicted with independent-itis.  How about you?