I began making the effort
to develop my sense of gratitude about seven years ago. It was a time when I
realized how much resentment I had because of my speech disability. I was
getting annoyed with everything then, but especially with people who I thought
of as “normal” and had no clue what my life was like. I compared myself to them
and doted on how lucky they were because they didn’t have to go regularly to a
doctor and rely on medical treatments to be able to speak. As these feelings
deepened I knew I had to do something. I hated myself for feeling jealous and
immersed in self-pity, so I forced myself to consciously focus on the good
things in my life. I began to mentally note at least one thing I could be
thankful for each day.
Over the years, I knew
that my daily practice of giving thanks helped me tremendously. My negative
feelings disappeared and I gained a much greater sense of peace and
contentment. However, this year I had an opportunity to really put my daily
practice of giving thanks to the test. My wonderful surgeon, who I have come to
rely on to “fix” my speech problem, was unavailable. I have seen him at least
twice a year since 1999 and my last treatment with him was January 2012. By
mid-May I knew that my voice was going and it was time for another treatment.
As usual, I called his office for an appointment but they said my doctor was
unable to work and they didn’t know when he was coming back.
If this had occurred ten
years ago, I would have gone into a complete panic. I would have thought that
my voice would immediately revert to being as bad as it was before I began
treatments. However, by working on my gratitude, I had changed. I was calmer
and more self-assured. The act of reinforcing a positive emotion in myself
everyday over the years taught me that I would be fine and I could deal with
whatever might happen.
My voice worsened over
the summer. Instead of panicking I simply thought I would check in again with
my doctor’s office. When I called in August they said that my surgeon was still
out but there was another doctor who could perform the procedure I needed. I
went to him with optimism and the hope that all would go well. It didn’t.
Still, I kept up with my
practice of giving thanks each day. I gave thanks for understanding why my
treatment worked or didn’t, and especially for knowing that – even if I never
got another treatment that worked – I would be okay.
By September it was much
harder to control my voice. The sense of it weakening made me feel weak
emotionally too. Yet, I knew that my problem wasn’t going to kill me. I also
knew that if I kept thinking positive thoughts and reminded myself of how much
I had, the calm that this created would create better speech. If I had to, I
could whisper to tell people that my voice was gone. At work I could use
American Sign Language, something I made sure to learn in case my voice ever
went and medical intervention no longer worked for me. I had lots of
psychological tools and other voices that I had learned about. It made me feel
very grateful to know that there were lots of things at my disposal that could
help me.
More time passed and my
voice worsened. I could feel a twinge of the pain I used to have when I tried
to speak and couldn’t. At one point I felt myself bordering on depression but I
kept giving thanks. I was grateful that I could work and function, that my body
and brain were intact. I didn’t like feeling out of control with my speech, but
I was grateful for the other things that gave me a sense of strength and I
focused on them. In particular, I kept reminding myself of the fact that I had
managed to live with my disability for almost forty years without any diagnosis
or treatment.
In October I decided to call
my doctor’s office once more. I was thrilled to hear that my surgeon was back
at work. A part of me, though, was almost sad. I knew it was best for me to get
treated and be able to speak without any pain, but not getting treated had
taught me so much and I didn’t want that to end.
Going without medical
intervention pointed out just how much I had improved. I saw that it had been
ten months since my last treatment, the longest I had gone in thirteen years
since my first one. Although I had struggled with my voice problem, I didn’t
fall apart. Most importantly, I no longer hated my speech disability or dreaded
what I would be like if I couldn’t get medical assistance for it. Instead, I
was grateful for everything I learned from my disability. I finally realized
that it is the one thing that has taught and continues to teach me so much
about myself and about how to live a full and happy life.
