apathy
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New Year’s Day is supposed to feel like a beginning.January 1 arrives with confetti and expectations—a collective agreement that we get to start over. My body did not get the memo. Parkinson’s doesn’t pause for fireworks or make resolutions at midnight. It doesn’t care what year it is. It measures time differently—by symptoms, by medication…
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They say laughter is the best medicine—and for the most part, I agree. But like many things in life with Parkinson’s, even something as joyful as laughter can become… complicated. You see, for me, laughter doesn’t always feel like a gentle release. Sometimes it’s more like a rollercoaster that I didn’t mean to get on.…
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So I dance. Not gracefully. Not even with confidence. But I shift my weight back and forth between two emotional poles, caught between caring too much and not caring at all. Some days, it feels like the worst of both worlds.
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Dear Friend, You didn’t ask for this. None of us did. But here you are—with a diagnosis that changes everything and nothing at once. And you told me. That matters more than I can say. I know how hard that moment can be—the words sticking in your throat, the fear of how it might land.…
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“Annie, where are you?” I call out as I walk through the house. I find her sitting inside a huge shipping box stuffed with pillows. “What are you doing?!” I ask with amusement.She answers me, “Nothing.” Nothing… that beguiling state of being that seems like it should be relaxing and peaceful, But for a person…
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Social gatherings can be challenging when you’re living with Parkinson’s. (AND Fibromyalgia, Autism and similar conditions.) During this busy season of parties and events, I often find myself reflecting on how best to navigate these situations. I wanted to share an open letter I’ve written—something that helps put my experiences into perspective and might resonate…
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In Fall of 2023, I was introduced to the Day One Cinema Therapy writing program (via www.yesandexercize.org). It was a lifesaver, helping me find the strength to save myself. Through the 16 weeks of the class, I focused on a Joseph Campbell-inspired Hero’s Journey to uncover hidden emotions that imprisoned me. By naming my apathy…
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“I grapple with making choices to the point of shutting down in frustration and great disappointment in myself and anger at PD.”
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I am bringing home a powerful elixir. The elixir is something I made. I discovered this elixir through the writing I have done over the past 3 months.The writing opened up my mind, and my heart. It brought me out of darkness and into the light. My elixir is a new attitude, a new perspective.
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I look out on all of my negative emotions, freely moving about, not clinging to me. I am dumbstruck by this apparent detachment. I look down at Annie. Her eyes look at me with longing. I look back at Kermit and agree to let Annie out and let her go.
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When I arrive back home, I want to introduce my family to the rapscallion group of emotions that have been the key disruptors to managing my everyday life. I want my family and friends to know how real and tough they are because they are formidable opponents who will keep on challenging me and knocking…
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I am learning that life is bigger than the daily, often menial, work of my life. MY LIFE means more. I have been in a foggy, often dark place and it took Parkinson’s to make me find the light within me.
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I cannot remain complacent about this apathy that’s been putting a grip on me. This enemy seems invisible but I can see her. “Apathetic Annie”! Contrary to her languorous state of being, she is always running ahead of me to set up yet another blockade that keeps me from participating in my own life.
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I need to break out of this Parkinson’s prison I’m in. Apathy is my prison matron.
I have Parkinson's. Parkinson's doesn't have me! 