Woman with determined face emerges through flower petals despite incoming obstacles

The Joy of Being Slow

In case you missed part 1 of this article, you can read it here: A Breathing Corpse Awaketh

After 8 years of being diagnosed with Parkinson's disease, there is one thing I have come to realize. There is a sudden and subtle hidden wisdom that can be garnered from the experience.

It is very challenging and frustrating to deal with the multifarious symptoms that can manifest from having such a pronounced dopamine deficiency. But nonetheless, it is equally humbling and grounding also.

Even though it pains me to admit it, this diagnosis was sent to me for a reason. I was operating at an unsustainable level and therefore needed a life-changing intervention to forcibly slow me down.

Practicing gratitude

So, every morning as my body and brain experience a rebirth of cataclysmic magnitude, I am learning to be more gentle with myself and foster a greater attitude of gratitude. I am slowly developing sincere gratitude for the sweetness and joy of operating at a slower gear.

There is no shame in moving at a slower, more manageable pace. We live in a world were we are all immersed in sensory overload. Unknowingly, we are all bombarded and brainwashed that with the message that:

  • Faster is better
  • Super speed is to be celebrated
  • If you snooze, you lose
  • Momentum and ground-breaking pace creates winners

But, this narrative is very flawed and arguably pernicious. It needs to be challenged. In our hunger and pursuit of fast, speed, and pace we are killing ourselves. Admittedly, as I was before I was diagnosed.

A message from the universe

So, whilst at times I may feel perturbed by the pain that Parkinson's disease inflicts upon me... I am equally humbled by the patience and perseverance it forces me to cultivate.

I imagine the dialogue with the cosmic universe going something along these lines.

Universe's message to me: Cannot wait Shamsa? So, you refuse to slow down? *mocking laughter* Mwah-haha-haha. Well, let me help you with that.

Ker-blam! Say hello to my little friend... Parkinson's. Trust me, little soul, this is what you need. The antidote to your haste. Although you will not see the wisdom in this disease - trust me, it is not your enemy.

You will hate it. But it is there to serve you, not hurt you. You will see that in time. Once you let the embers of hate and bitterness cool.

Trying to stay patient

Parkinson's disease, in my case, is purposely purposeful. In the morning, Parkinson’s disease, in its mocking, derisory way grabs me, like a petulant child.

When it demands that I sit there quietly until it is ready and happy to allow me to get up, I quietly remind myself this is okay with me. At this moment, it is the boss. Not me.

So, like a good little girl, I hoist up my white flag. I surrender. I am not the victor on this occasion. But, the power dynamic will change. It always does. I have to just bide my time.

Mobility returns

Thus eventually, my body and brain realize they are indeed old comrades. They are stronger and better when they work together. So, they call a truce (albeit, only temporarily).

So, thanks to the magic of Levodopa, my comatose dopamine neurotransmitters are forced to wake up and spark up. Movement slowly returns to me. I am me, again. For the 587, 721, 893, millionth time in my life, I am joyfully brought back to life.

I slowly begin to unfurl myself, like a flower... opening and clamoring towards the light. My medication provides my pivotal sustenance, but only temporarily.

Yet still, I will take whatever scraps of mobility that come my way. Now, I am the victor and the constant tug of war with the Pesky-Parkinator continues... for now.

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