Shoe Laces

Yesterday, I learned something new, and it was not pleasant.

It began with a torn shoelace, which meant, of course, that I had to replace it. But I couldn’t.  The laces did not fit through the holes.

I was positive that the new laces were the problem, since the original laces were rounded and these were not. I asked one of my grandchildren to buy me thinner, rounded, laces that would fit through the holes. Instead, he took the laces that I thought were too big and within less than a minute my shoes were ready to wear.

That’s when it dawned on me. The problem was with me, and not with the laces.

I know that Parkinson effects fine motor skills, but because the changes are gradual, I didn’t realize just how much. Yes, I do notice that I make a lot more typing mistakes than I used to, and yes, it takes me longer to get dressed in the morning, but still, this was a shocking revelation.     

Sometimes I feel as though I am climbing the down escalator. I work so hard to keep the bear at bay, but it continues to creep up on me.

I just have to keep on reminding myself that I am not in charge. It’s my responsibility to do my utmost to take care of myself, to guard my health, and sanity (which can be even more difficult at times!). But the outcome is not my responsibility.

Letting go is difficult. It is freeing. It frees me of worry and wondering “what will be?” But it does not free me of being responsible, of doing my utmost in the present, while taking the necessary precautions for the future.

I can’t say that I’m always there. But I’m trying, and that’s more than half the battle.