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What is integrity? No, seriously... what is it?

The dictionary defines it as a state of honesty; of moral or artistic incorruptibility; soundness; a quality or state of completeness. But where does it come from? Is it instilled in us with the muffled, incomprehensible words we hear our mother speak whilst in the womb; the bare bones we build upon as we grow through our infancy, our childhood? Does it become solid, fleshed out as we move into adolescence, independence and ultimately adulthood? Is it the yardstick our actions are measured by, the catalyst for creating Conscience?

I think it's what we build our lives around, and we don't even know we are doing it. I think it's easy to contaminate it, too, just through the relationships we enter into, the experiences we encounter, the tragedies we face.

I have spent the greater part of my waking (and sleeping) hours of the past 6 months in bed and I feel it has corrupted my integrity, what defined me as a mother, friend, daughter, sister, employee, student, participating member of society. Oh, I have fought the good fight, but in doing so I have gone over to the other side, become a part of the disease instead of part of the cure. During this, the winter of my vast discontent, I have failed to acknowledge the truth, accept the reality that no matter what treatment they give me, what remissions they might conceivably achieve on my behalf, I will always be a Person With MS and now or later, it will come for me. I have put all my energy into fighting myself and mourning undefined losses in a random and unpredictable way, picking my way haphazardly through a minefield of confusion, misunderstanding and insecurity. I should have been bulldozing a straight path into Tomorrow.

Denial ain't just a river in Egypt.

A wind of change is coming, I think and no, the dog didn't just drop her guts, but it might smell just as bad to some in the long run. I've been beating myself up for not being able to do what I once could, and for not wanting to attempt to do what I used to. I should have been withdrawing from situations where I am forced to put myself on the line and once more ram home the reality of the situation. In striving to be who I was, I have lost control of who I am becoming. I have failed to feed my own integrity and my conscience chips away at me.

Soon, I will enter my third year as a PWMS and I am going to have to make some changes if I am to survive. If I had cancer, they would cut it out of me, but I don't so if the content of my life sucks, I'd better change the content. My conscience is very heavy; I have been trying to stay who I was for the benefit of everyone at the expense of all of us learning to live with who I really am. In working so damned hard to maintain the status quo, I issued a challenge that everyone had to lose.

Maybe Spring will come, after all, but not everybody is going to like it.

~~ A strong person and a waterfall always channel their own path - Unknown ~~

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It's life, Jim, but not as we know it

I hate Western movies; hot sweaty horses and dry, dusty John Waynes strolling around grunting monosyllabically (is that a word?) at the Pilgrims. Sometimes it seemed like in every damned one of them the Cowboy/Hero would lose his woman, only to discover he loved his horse better anyway. Unless he got scalped by an Indian. The Cavalry always rode in at the last minute, saved the women and children and the cattle and massacred the Indians. It was all done in the best possible taste.

I'd rather watch the thoroughly bald and oh so sexy Jean Luc Picard whip around Uranus and wipe out the Klingons.

Last night, I reached some sort of emotional crisis. Lucky for me, but not lucky for her, Shari was a witness. And today, I feel different. I am smaller, the world is a lot further away but the magnitude of what hurts is bigger. Im quite sure I am heading into an exacerbation, I'm starting to feel crushed under the weight of everything. The pain is digging deeper, I just can't shut it out the same.

My enemies aren't like the Indians and there is no Cavalry coming to save me. My enemies are more like the Borg - menacing, uncompromising and indestructible.

Jean Luc made a hubba hubba Borg, too.

~~ Make it so ~~

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