Looking back at 2009, it feels like my life could easily be represented by this stack of jars. In my case, instead of a baseball knocking all of them clear off the platform, it was my rheumatoid arthritis that did all of the work. As expected, the prize was minimal to none. And unlike the carnivals or state fairs where the area below the platforms is well padded, my jars fell straight onto the concrete ground. To say that some of them shattered into tiny little pieces is an understatement.

My first step forward, after months (some might say years) of continuing to step on the sharp pieces of glass, was to finally survey the damage around me, and to admit that it needed to be cleaned up. Looking back at the past year, I realized that this was a critical moment during my journey with rheumatoid arthritis. Even though I still had a lot of recovery to accomplish, I had at least turned my sights around from the fearful unknown to the positive present…and while I did not know it at the time, this counted for a lot.

I started deciding which milk bottles were most important to start piecing back together, and ended up with “physical health” and “emotional health”. This was not easy – sometimes the total number of hours that I dedicated on both of these issues totaled up to more than a full time job – but it was possible. My physical therapy sessions have been reduced from 3x a week to 1x a week maintenance mode. My therapy sessions with my psychologist have been reduced from 1x a week to an on-call basis. This effort took months, and many times it was hard to see some of the results, but looking back I am glad I stuck with prioritizing my physical and emotional recovery above all else.

After I started gluing the pieces back together, I often assumed that a lot of the cracks in the glass would be permanent. I am happy to find out, however, that some of the scars DO heal.

The milk bottle labeled “personal finances” has still not been fixed, but now that I’ve worked on some other milk bottles, I can dedicate a large part of this year to working on this next project. I only recently started surveying the damage, but as the previous examples showed me, this is a critical step for moving forward. While my current income still does not cover all of the expenses, it is much better than where I was last year, when my income for many months was zero. I am currently working on various leads at the moment that will hopefully get me closer to where I want to be. I no longer dream of riches. I would be more than happy with a comfortable income that covers my living expenses, my medical expenses, and a little allowance on the side. I have no doubt that I will soon be there.

And though I did not want to admit it, the milk bottle labeled “marriage”, which continued to appear to remain so strong, started showing some cracks as well. (Luckily, this was one milk bottle that did not shatter into a million little pieces.) A few months ago we recognized this situation, and started putting the effort that was required to not only stop the cracks, but to heal the scars as well. (Including, but not limited to, couples counseling.)

2009 was the year of fixing two milk jars: physical health and emotional health. When this new started a few weeks ago, I decided that 2010 was going to be the year of fixing another two milk jars: personal finances and marriage. After I get all of my milk bottles back into place, I am sure that they will be even stronger than they were before, so that they are not so easily knocked over once again in the future.

In order to fix these remaining milk jars this coming year, I will need to spend less time online. No, Rheumatoid Arthritis Guy won’t be going away completely, but I also won’t be able to continue making daily appearances as I have done in the past. While it’s great to be able to feel like a superhero here on my blog, it’s even more wonderful to feel like a superhero over in my daily life, out in the real world.

Plus, I hope to – one day – finally get that really big stuffed animal that is hanging overhead!

Stay tuned…for the next adventure of Rheumatoid Arthritis Guy!

Whether my RA was active or in remission, whether I was in one of my worst flares or having a relatively pain-free day, all of this seemed to be besides the point.

What I was looking at was my life, which for a large part of this past year seemed to be falling apart. I realized that not only have I reached a point that I had been longing for quite some time, but that I had actually surpassed where I had hoped to be.

It has been a very rough year, without a doubt. At right around this time last year, I had a flare that lasted longer than the usual three to four weeks. That was the first sign that things were changing. Since I was enjoying some of the warmest months of the year down here in the southern hemisphere, I could not attribute this progression of my symptoms to cold weather. I kept on hoping for things to get better in regards to my RA, but they only got worse.

Some of my lowest points were reached between April-June of this year, which is when I launched this blog (and, when winter started). Readers who have been with me since the beginning of my blog know that I was going through a very challenging phase. (Readers who are new are more than welcome to go back an read some of my posts from during this time.)

One of the main reasons I started blogging about my life with rheumatoid arthritis was for the therapeutic relief that this might provide. What was important was the act  of putting my thoughts down on papers, and re-reading my thought so that I could process them and move forward. Sort of like a private diary, except published online for everyone to see.

I think that my wish has always to build my life back up to where it was previously…but to be honest, this did not always seem like it was possible. The hole that I was in was so deep, and the sand kept falling in every times I attempted to climb out. My joints worsened, the pain worsened, and my mind continued to spin out of control.

Many times, if felt like there were only two options that were available to me: 1. Thrown in the towel and give up hope, or 2. Start working on rebuilding my life – that is, as soon as the pain (physical and emotional) passes. I think one of the best decisions that I made during the past year was when I added one more option to the above list.

I told myself that I needed to start rebuilding my life NOW. I could not wait for my pain to go away, or for my RA to get better. I could not wait until I was walking without crutches, or when I no longer had to go to physical therapy on a regular basis. Come to think of it, it’s a really good thing that I decided not to wait for all of these things…because I would still be waiting!

I now realize that on each and every day, for the past nine months, I have been working on taking that next step forward. It did not always feel like I was moving forward…many times the symptoms of my rheumatoid arthritis pushed me back quite a bit. One step forward and three steps back. During times like this, it’s easy to think that these steps forward are not important. The reality of the matter is that is is during times like this when these steps forward are most important. Even though the progress is not easily seen, I must remind myself that it is indeed taking place.

Which brings me to another one of my biggest lessons learned during the past year: when living with a chronic illness such as rheumatoid arthritis, the results of my efforts are not always seen as quickly as I would like them to be. I now know that with a little patience, I will soon enough realize that blocks that I have been putting together days after day have actually created sometime bigger and more beautiful than I could have previously ever imagined.

Having reached this point, I won’t stop now. Each and every day that I live with rheumatoid arthritis, I promise to myself that I will figure out how to continue to take that next step forward. Pain or no pain, flare or no flare, one thing will remain constant – I can always be found adding another block to this masterpiece that is called life.

RA Gurl from Artistically Speaking is also adding blocks each day! Be sure to take a look at her post For Today, if you have not already had the opportunity to do so.

Stay tuned…for the next adventure of Rheumatoid Arthritis Guy!

“Patience and fortitude conquer all things.” -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Yesterday marked the completion of one full week in which Rheumatoid Arthritis Guy can say that he, and not his rheumatoid arthritis, was back in charge.

After being dragged around for months by my pain and inflammation, it was nice to get off this ride. If this were the rheumatoid arthritis roller coaster, I would once again be back in the station.

As I look back on the past few months, however, I begin to realize that I was actually more in charge than I thought I was – even though at the time it did not always feel like this was the case.

I did have a few moments of slight pain and inflammation this past week. The most prominent episode was actually the result of over-stressing my toe joints in one particular posture we did in Pilates class on Friday. The other episodes could be counted in terms of minutes, and not hours or days (or even months!).

I actually appreciated this low level of RA activity, though. To me, it served as a reminder that although my RA is less active to almost inactive, it is still there.

The best part of having written in this blog every day is that I can actually go back whenever I want and read what happened on any particular day…another “reminder” that I am sure will continue to benefit me in the future.

While it’s definitely been nice not having to face the same old struggle in recent days, I think it’s best to not forgot what I actually went through. I think I will be better prepared for the next flare if I don’t fall back into a cycle of denial, as I have done before.

So as I enjoy the present and think about the future, I look to the past – and try to highlight those things which helped me the most when it came to getting through the most difficult moments of the past few months. Two thoughts come to mind: patience and fortitude.

Patience

“The quality of being patient, as the bearing of provocation, annoyance, misfortune, or pain, without complaint, loss of temper, irritation, or the like.” *

In My 5 Favorite Things About Living With Rheumatoid Arthritis, I listed patience as one of my five things. Every day I continue to learn more about the importance of patience, when it comes to living with a chronic illness.

All too often I found myself thinking that if I tried something new one day in hopes of improving my rheumatoid arthritis, that I should see results by the following day. When that change did not come, it sometimes felt like things were taking way too long.

As I look back and realize that it took over two months of making my health care and recovery my number one priority, I begin to realize that things did indeed get better quite quickly – after all, this latest bad spell started in November of last year. I know, when I was in the midst of my struggle I wanted improvement to come much more quickly – but by being patient and not losing hope, I finally achieved what I had hoped for.

I also continue to learn the importance of patience when it comes to my relationship with others. I realize now different people need different lengths of time in order to react to and accept my illness. I also realize that their shows of support many not always come in the manner that I had expected them to…but when they do come and I recognize them as such, they are probably even better that what I have imagined.

My patience has allowed me to see the beauty of individuality, which is something that we all have.

Fortitude

“Mental and emotional strength in facing difficulty, adversity, danger, or temptation courageously.” *

Up until now, I have not written about my most personal encounter with fortitude. On Sunday, May 3, 2009 (the date remains etched in my mind) I experienced my most difficult moment to date with rheumatoid arthritis.

I lay in bed that afternoon. I had tried to get up and move around during the morning, but this proved to be beyond what I was able to do. Things continued to worsen, as the day progressed.

Some time around mid-afternoon, I reached a point where I realized that I could not move my arms and legs. I frantically sent messages to my mind, in hopes of provoking some movement – any movement. Nothing happened. Needless to say, I was scared beyond all belief. During that half hour or so, I actually believed that my limbs would never move again.

Should I call out for help? Or should I just keep on trying? Thoughts raced through my head. Then I found myself talking to my rheumatoid arthritis – I don’t know if these words actually passed through my lips or were just in my mind. Either way, their effect were immediate and profound.

“You can have my body, but you can’t have my mind.”

And with that, the barrier that my intense pain and inflammation had erected between myself and my mind dissolved in a heartbeat. Almost if by magic, my hands and my feet moved. I gently rotated my ankles and wrists for the next half hour, scared that if I stopped I would once again be unable to move them.

Deep down, I still feel slightly traumatized by this experience. But I find comfort in the knowledge that when I encountered this overwhelming challenge, I managed to find a way to push my inner strength one step forward.

*****

I browse through the emotional baggage that I picked up during this past half year. There is a lot of dead weight, so I throw that out. There are some things I hold onto, though. Some things remind me that I still live with rheumatoid arthritis, even though it’s much less active. Other things are there in reserve, waiting to be pulled out next time I have to set out on the road to recovery. Lastly, there are a couple of other items that I could not toss out, even if I wanted to. These are scars, acting as a testament to what I have been through.

And with this, I have a new found sense of inner peace. Everything is going to be okay.

Stay tuned…for the next adventure of Rheumatoid Arthritis Guy!

Old friends pass away, new friends appear. It is just like the days. An old day passes, a new day arrives. The important thing is to make it meaningful: a meaningful friend – or a meaningful day. -Dalai Lama

Rheumatoid Arthritis Guy has been thinking a lot about the “old me” and the “new me”. By the old me, I guess I mean the person who I was before rheumatoid arthritis. Along these same lines, the new me would mean the person who I have become while living with rheumatoid arthritis.

During these past few months, memories of my old self would occasionally pass through my mind. These images that I used to have of myself felt more and more distant with each passing day. And to be honest, I can’t even really remember what it was like to not live with chronic pain and debilitating information. This was back at a time when I, like many others, did not know what “rheumatoid arthritis” meant.

The odd thing about these recent flashbacks was that whenever they happened, I found myself focusing on my new self – and I really liked what I saw. This was a good feeling to have – even as I was encountering increased periods of mobility loss in my hands and feet. I could spend lots of time sulking about the passing of individual who I used to be, but in the long run doing so would not help me much.

The truth of the matter is that – with or without rheumatoid arthritis – I would still be a very different person in the present than I was in the past.

Before I started writing this post, I wanted to come up with a graphic representation of the old me versus the new me.

For the old me, I wanted to convey a sense of completeness, particularly when it came to my physical being. Though “complete”, there was also a blurry edge – things were not as in focus as they are in the present.

For the new me, it was important to represent a person – who though was not as “complete” as before – is actually much more balanced and focused. Sure, there are parts of my physical body that don’t work nearly as well as I would like them to, but I do think that this has allowed me to concentrate on and appreciate more the parts that do work.

And as I finalized this image (shown above), I was quite startled by the results. There is one me that strongly stands out between the two – and that is the new me. Sure, a lot of the old me remains in the new me, but there has been quite a bit of change. I really do like who the new me has become.

I appreciate the beauty of cutting my own food and lifting it to my mouth, all on my own. I know the peace that comes with once again being able to get dressed, without having to ask for help. I understand the sense of accomplishment that results from being able to walk across the room, without a cane or crutches.

All of these items represent wonderful additions to my new life. Had it not been for my rheumatoid arthritis, I would have never been able to recognize the beauty in these “little” things.

Even though I have had a great handful of days during this past week, I have no doubt that rheumatoid arthritis will continue to take away different aspects of my current self. I know that these losses will not come easy…they have not been easy in the past and I don’t expect them to be easy in the future.

As long as I accept the new person who I currently am, while not forgetting the person who I used to be, I know everything will be okay.

By the way…I also look forward to one day meeting the person who I have yet to become.

Stay tuned…for the next adventure of Rheumatoid Arthritis Guy!

Granted, I don’t watch the NBA finals anymore. (I just don’t have the time to watch so many games…) But I did follow this recent series on twitter…does that count?

And the truth is, for me baseball has never progressed much beyond a sunny afternoon outing to the ballpark – hotdogs, peanuts, and all. (San Francisco has such a beautiful park right next to the bay, no? I used to work right across the street from there…extended lunch break anyone?)

But if we talk about the Superbowl, I’m there! I certainly enjoy any excuse that allows me to make my homemade buffalo wings, kick back, and enjoy the game. The commercials are usually overhyped, so I really don’t look forward to them as much as some people might. The halftime shows are often entertaining. (Speaking of hype, remember the whole Janet Jackson “controversy”?) But in the end, it’s all about the game – and watching an exciting game is much more important to me than having “my team” win.

My only gripe, probably due to the fact that I have lived outside of the U.S. for many years, is the title of “World Champion” that is given to the winner of the Superbowl. (I think “National Champion” would be much more appropriate.)

The places I have lived in outside of the U.S. are Europe and South America. Being surrounded by what many people consider to be THE worldwide sport, it should come as no surprise that I am now a big fan of soccer. Already, excitement is growing for the 2010 World Cup in South Africa as national teams from around the world compete in qualifying rounds.

There’s nothing better than hearing that long drawn out “gooooooooool” as one team scores. No matter what is going on, everything comes to a standstill whenever this word is uttered. I was outside Milan during the 1990 World Cup, and every time Italy played, the city shut down completely, work day or not. Once I made the mistake of going to a restaurant in Buenos Aires as Boca Juniors played. It only took  about two hours for my food to be served, as everyone working in the restaurant was glued to the television for the entire duration of the game.

So as I start get excited about the World Cup matches that are going to be taking place a year from now, I turn my attention to something in my more immediate future: my near-term goals.

For a large part of my life, I have gone from one goal to another. Some accomplishments took days, whereas others took years. Some of my goals are complete (go to college, go to graduate school) and others are still a work in progress (yoga, lifestyle changes). Some are still completely untouched (have kids). Some goals are financial (slowly becoming less important), and others are spiritual (slowly becoming more important).  The one thing all of these goals have in common is that I have often used them to measure both where I am coming from and where I am going to.

Talking about goals brings up one of  my more personal challenges of living with rheumatoid arthritis. As my entire world continues to turn upside down, the whole notion of moving from milepost to milepost is no longer as simple as it used to be. (Heck, I don’t even know anymore if taking physical steps tomorrow is going to be easy or hard.)

For the past three weeks I have been telling myself: “Next week, I will reach a point where I can walk without my crutches.” As each new week arrived, I realized that I had not yet reached this point. In one regard I have indeed progressed, because in the past I would have pushed my crutches aside whether I was ready to or not. (I guess that I was most concerned with the appearance of  progress.) Even as I do the right thing by continuing to use my crutches, I do feel the disappointment of not having met my goals as expected.

I have been careful to not define a specific recovery point. I tell myself that what is important is to continue moving forward, even if I do have to take many steps back during the process. It would be nice to reach a point where my rheumatoid arthritis is in remission, but I am would rather not set myself up for feelings of defeat if this does not happen. I want to stay positive, while acknowledging that there will be negatives.

As I write this, I ask myself once again what “moving forward” means. My head fills with visions of pain-free days and joints that aren’t constantly popping. Being able to leave the house without crutches or a cane seems like an accomplishment. No longer having days where I have to remain within a short distance of the bathroom would be nice. But maybe, still, I am expecting too much.

So as I settle on what “moving forward” means to me, I end up with this: Taking care of myself as much as possible – body, mind, and soul. By this definition, I have been moving forward over the past couple of months.

It is easy to think that I deserve certain rewards for taking care of myself – such as walking without crutches in a week, or finally waking up one day without pain. After all, I have grown up with the belief that for every case of illness there will always be an achievable state of good health – as long as we take care of ourselves. (Get well soon!) I now know that when dealing with chronic illness, this is not always the case.

But maybe I should focus a little less on what I expect my rewards to look like. And in doing so, I just might be able to finally see the many true and unexpected rewards that will no doubt come my way.

I now commit to live each day to its fullest, no matter what comes my way.

As I add this to my list of my personal goals, I find comfort in knowing that I need not rush to put a check mark in front of it and consider it done. As long as it remains open, it will serve as a constant reminder of what I need to do – each and every day.

Stay tuned…for the next adventure of Rheumatoid Arthritis Guy!

Don’t forget that this the 1970’s, back when “video game” referred to either Pong or some small hand held device with about six red LEDs and and an audio device that could produce nothing other than really annoying beeps. (I had hockey and my brother had football, but except for the lines painted on the screen they were exactly the same.)

Some of the board games required lots of skill, whereas others were won based purely upon luck and the roll of the die. There was never a thing as spending “too much time”, playing board games. This was partly based upon the fact that whenever you lost a game, you immediately changed the rules to “two out of three”.

One of my favorite board games was so full of suspense, yet so simple. Chutes and Ladders. (Some people may know it as Snakes and Ladders.) In order to win, you needed only to be the first person to reach the last square. Along the way you could land on a ladder, which allowed you to climb up and gain spaces. You could also land on a chute, which forced you to slide down and lose spaces. Rarely was getting from start to finish a linear process, instead you continually went up and down along the way.

As I look back on this game, I being to realize what a  wonderful metaphor it is for living with rheumatoid arthritis. I haven’t been sharing too many details of the day to day progression of my RA, but lust let me say that there have been lots of ups and there have been lots of downs. (Luckily, the ups have outnumbered the downs.)

In the past, I often used to get discouraged whenever my “recovery” was not a steady straight line of improvement. Whenever I woke up and it felt like things had (once again) taken a turn for the worse, I just wanted to give up and throw in the towel.

During these past two months, however, I can’t say that I have particularly enjoyed the flares that continue to pop up – but I have definitely learned to make the most out of them. If I’m sliding down, I might as well throw my head back and enjoy the breeze as it passes through my hair. (By the way, I’ve yet to experience any hair loss from my meds…yes!!!)

Once I get to the bottom, I will have ample opportunity to get back on my feet and climb back up the ladder.

Three steps forward and two steps back can sometimes seem like a strange way to move forward, especially in this modern world that is so fascinated with “efficiency”. I’d rather think of it, though, as going up and down chutes and ladders. After all, who didn’t enjoy coasting down the slide on the playground when they were a little kid?

(On a personal note, I’ve had lots of experience falling down slides. Once of my earliest home videos – 8mm back then – shows me cautiously climbing up the backyard slide. I was so young I was still in diapers. I reach the top and stand up with pride. The video stops suddenly, and when it starts again I’m lying on the grass crying my head off. I had just taken one of my first major tumbles!)

As long as I don’t hit that one mega-long slide that everyone was always afraid of in Chutes and Ladders, everything will be okay. But if my luck does happen to send me down this chute, I won’t forget that amongst all the ladders on the board, there was also that mega-tall ladder!

Stay tuned…for the next adventure of Rheumatoid Arthritis Guy!

Reach the stars,
And fly a fantasy,
Dream a dream,
And what you see will be.
-Theme song from “The Neverending Story”.

Rhuematoid Arthritis Guy has made some great strides during the past couple of months when it comes to accepting the chronic nature of his rheumatoid arthritis.

Even though I have already lived with RA for many years, I sometimes feel like I have only just begun. I think this is partly related to the denial that I continued to cling onto, up until only recently. (As I was written before, it is easy to believe that “after this flare” things will get better and the pain will finally go away.)

Connecting with other people who have lived with rheumatoid arthritis for decades has played a huge role in my acceptance. I am no longer able to hide behind my denial.

I must admit that accepting the chronic nature of rheumatoid arthritis wasn’t easy – it felt like a huge slap in the face. But, it was a necessary, and healing, step as I move forward in my journey with rheumatoid arthritis.

In a certain way, I have gotten quite used to the constant pain and stiffness. During the day, as I go about my activities, I recognize that these symptoms are there – but I do my best to not focus in on them, and instead concentrate on living a life that is as fulfilling as possible. At the same time, however, I have learned to respect these signals – and not push myself too far.

So for the moment, I have learned to live with the chronic pain and inflammation.

I just haven’t learned how to wake up to it.

During the past few days I have come to realize that whenever I wake up (either during the night, or to get out of bed in the morning, and even after midday naps), there is always one thought on my mind, and it’s always the same.

“Won’t this ever go away???”

During the day I have learned to work my rheumatoid arthritis into my life. When I wake up, thought, it’s there front and center. I still haven’t gotten used to this part. To be honest, it continues to be a startling jolt every time I leave my sleep and regain consciousness of my body.

A few months ago, I had an extended period where I was waking up without knowing who I was. It got so bad, that at times I didn’t even know where I was. My mind was an absolute blank, and more than once I was left completely shaken as I scanned the room trying to figure out who and where I was. The longest episodes lasted between 5-10 minutes.

(I was not on any medications at the time, so these lapses could not be blamed on medicinal side-effects.)

As I become more aware of the shock that waking up continues to have on my mind and body, I start to think that I just might have been trying to intentionally forget that I had rheumatoid arthritis when I woke up…but my mind didn’t stop just at that detail…it went on to forget everything else as well.

It “worked” in an odd sort of way, because during those initial few minutes when I was experiencing complete confusion, my physical pain did not register at all.

But as my memory came back, so did my pain.

As I try to move forward with various stages of acceptance, I focus in on a thought that often crosses my mind as I am falling asleep. This  thought  is on one hand so very subtle (in terms of my awareness that I am thinking such a thought) and on the other hand so very strong (in terms of the actual impact it has been having on me).

“The pain is going to be so bad when I wake up.”

(In a way this is true, with morning stiffness and all…but I don’t think this is the most healthy thought to carry into my sleep.)

Just like I have made a conscious effort to incorporate chronic pain into my day, I now know that I also need to incorporate it into the moment when I wake up – the start of my day. If something is never going to end, I might as well go ahead and make it a part of my life – whether I am awake or asleep.

(As as we all know, this is easier said than done. But, our biggest accomplishments often come when we put our mind to something – before we’ve even done what we’ve set forth to do…)

If you haven’t heard the theme song to The Neverending Story for a while (like in the last decade or two, as was my case), take a listen below. Don’t forget: “Dream a dream…and what you see will be.”

[YouTube Video: The Neverending Story, with lyrics.]

(Ahhh…there’s nothing like a flashback to the 80’s, is there!)

Stay tuned…for the next adventure of Rheumatoid Arthritis Guy!

To spare oneself from grief at all cost can be achieved only at the price of total attachment, which excludes the ability to experience happiness. -Erich Fromm

There are times when Rheumatoid Arthritis Guy can’t help but feel like his body is dying on him. Sure, I know that a lot of the physical sensations can be chalked up to the symptoms of rheumatoid arthritis, and that my body is not dying in the “traditional” sense.

But with every loss I experience,  no matter how temporary that loss might be, it does feel like a little part of me is dying.

Every time I get out of bed and hobble across the room, it feels like part of me is missing. (Though I may wobble like a weeble, I’ve yet to master the part about never falling down!)

Every time I struggle to cut the food on my plate, it feels like a part of me is missing. (By default I’ve joined the Slow Food movement, but I guess this isn’t necessarily a bad thing.)

Every time an expression of pain inadvertently passes through my lips, it feels like part of me is missing. (Parents, please note: at times this show is definitely not rated PG-13.)

These are but just a few of the losses that I have been experiencing lately.

In stating these feelings, I don’t think I am being too negative. I’ve been there many times, believe me, stuck with the feeling that things will never get better. Neither do I think that I am being too positive. I have been there also, overly caught up with unrealistic thinking and believing that my rheumatoid arthritis will be gone when I wake up in the morning.

Instead, I’m at a place that is in between these two extremes. When it comes to these losses, this place is still relatively new for me.  It’s called reality.

As I begin to evaluate my feelings with this new found sense of clarity, I am starting to realize that I am indeed missing part of my old self. I am starting to accept these feeling for what they are – feelings of true loss. My feelings of loss are real; they are neither imagined nor exaggerated.

In order to work through these losses that I continue to experience as a result of my life with rheumatoid arthritis, I must allow myself to the opportunity to grieve.

I just finished reading On Grief and Grieving: Finding the Meaning of Grief Through the Five Stages of Grief, by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross and David Kessler. (I love it when things start falling into place!) Although this book was originally written to address the grief of death, it’s principles are perfectly suited  to many other aspects of life,  including the losses associated with chronic illness. (Death is just one of the many losses we experience in life.)

What are the five stages of grief?

1. Denial

“Denial is usually only a temporary defense for the individual. This feeling is generally replaced with heightened awareness of situations and individuals that will be left behind after death.”¹

It feels good to get past periods of denial, to fling open the doors to the real world and to take that all-important first step forward. I am learning, though, that this is the first, and not the last, part of the process. I have only recently begun to temper my feelings of euphoria and prepare myself for the many other emotions that are going to arise as I move forward through this cycle of coping.

2. Anger

“Once in the second stage, the individual recognizes that denial cannot continue. Because of anger, the person is very difficult to care for due to misplaced feelings of rage and envy. Any individual that symbolizes life or energy is subject to projected resentment and jealousy.”¹

A reader recently told me that after reading my blog, she realized how bitter she had become. I appreciated her words – but although my recent writings may not have necessarily conveyed many sentiments of anger, I definitely have had my fair share of  “angry-at-the-world” moments (and days, and weeks…).

However, I think I have reached a point where I allow myself to process my anger in a manner that does not hurt me or the people around me. Only by processing this anger am I able to move on. Anger is a normal. It’s the getting stuck in my anger that seems to cause a lot of problems.

3. Bargaining

“The third stage involves the hope that the individual can somehow postpone or delay death. Usually, the negotiation for an extended life is made with a higher power in exchange for a reformed lifestyle. Psychologically, the person is saying, “I understand I will die, but if I could just have more time…”¹

“If only” are two words that I am going to stop using. I’m not the first person to write about how easy it is to remove certain pleasures from life and then blame their absence on illness. Sure, there will always be some some obstacles that are more difficult to overcome to others. But if I’m going to start making bargains that affect my quality of life, it’s going to be in order to trade up, not to trade down.

4. Depression

“During the fourth stage, the dying person begins to understand the certainty of death. Because of this, the individual may become silent, refuse visitors and spend much of the time crying and grieving. This process allows the dying person to disconnect themself from things of love and affection. It is not recommended to attempt to cheer an individual up that is in this stage. It is an important time for grieving that must be processed.”¹

Depression in and of itself is not a bad thing, contrary to all the social and media messages that we are constantly bombarded with. (Just stop and take a look at all the television and print ads one of these days.) Smiles are important, but life is not all about smiles.

The most important message I gained from reading this book was the realization that depression is a normal part of the grieving process, and that I must allow myself to freely enter and exit periods of depression. As with anger, the danger comes not from the depression itself, but from getting stuck in depression and not moving on when the time is right.

5. Acceptance

“This final stage comes with peace and understanding of the death that is approaching. Generally, the person in the fifth stage will want to be left alone. Additionally, feelings and physical pain may be non-existent. This stage has also been described as the end of the dying struggle.”¹

Having finally reached acceptance on many personal issues before, I now know that acceptance does not always mean that something has finally be put to rest, once and for all. Instead, experience has shown me that, quite often, an issue will reappear. Once again I will move through the recovery process from denial to acceptance. This is not a sign of weakness – this is life.

(Please note, the authors do state that every one may not necessarily pass through all five stages, nor may they necessarily pass through the five stages in this exact sequence.)

Loss is something personal. Our loss is not something that can be compared to another person’s loss. If we try to compare our loss with another person’s loss, chances are that we will just deny ourselves the opportunity to fully experience and move through our own loss.

As I allow myself the opportunity to cope with my personal losses, I have no doubt that eventually, something beautiful will grow. And while I may not be able to fill in all of the voids, it just might be possible for me to allow these absences to become a part of the person who I really am – my complete self.

Stay tuned…for the next adventure of Rheumatoid Arthritis Guy!

Rheumatoid Arthritis Guy is always interested in exploring the world of design, and was more than happy to recently stumble upon this concept of the beauty of imperfection. He also finds it interesting, the ease with which one can get caught up in the pursuit of perfection – when in reality there is no such thing as perfection.

Is it not better to achieve the possible instead of continually trying to attain what is impossible?

During the past few months it has been very difficult at times to look at my hands and feet when they are experiencing moments of extreme inflammation, resulting in their temporary disfigurement. During some of the earlier episodes I blocked the mental image so completely that it did not pop back into my mind until a day or so later. When this mental image did come back to my mind, I still had a hard time accepting that my hands and feet could indeed really look like that, even temporarily.

I don’t think I have reached full acceptance yet, but I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that any deformities caused by my rheumatoid arthritis are a thing of beauty, something that makes me unique. They are my imperfections.

A couple of days ago my yoga instructor called me to see how I was doing. She knows that I have rheumatoid arthritis, and saw firsthand my physical decline during the past few weeks when it came to my hands and feet. I had not been in class for about two weeks, so I guess she figured it was time to check in on me and see how I was doing. (I just found out today that the entire class was huddled around the phone as she called me, but unfortunately I had not yet woken up that day and ended up having to return her call later in the day.)

After bringing her up to date on the latest, I was surprised when she told me that I was more than welcome to continue going to class. She told me I could follow the routine during the parts that I was able to do, and I could make my own modifications during the parts that I was not able to do.

This morning I went back to the gym. With my crutches tucked away on the side and a folding chair set up for me to use during the standing part of the class, I returned to my yoga practice.  The synchronized nature of the room – with lined up exercise mats and people performing the routine with almost perfect timing – was definitely broken. (At moments I am sure it looked like a frat boy doing his best synchronized swimmer mock-impression.) I was originally concerned about the impact my presence might have on the environment of the yoga studio, but I later thought to myself – this is a moment of wabi-sabi, and it sure is beautiful.

After class the people who know I have rheumatoid arthritis told me it was great to see me back in class. A few people who did not know I have rheumatoid arthritis approached me to inquire on my condition. I gave them a short explanation, and they too told me that it was nice to see me back in class. One of my classmates has a mother who lives with RA, and I really appreciated the words of support that she gave me.

I had gone into the class wondering how much of the routine I was going to be able to follow, in terms of a percentage. I left with the knowledge that I got to know my body a little better this morning – and perfect or not, this is definitely not something that can be summed up in a number. And in focusing on my body instead of an ideal, I probably learned just a little bit more about the true nature of yoga practice.

Stay tuned…for the next adventure of Rheumatoid Arthritis Guy!