Luck Is A Curse

Posted by fxckfeelings on August 10, 2009

Some people find themselves suddenly, inexplicably cursed by a life of hardship and pain, while others cruise through a blessed existence of acclaim and luck. Truth is, of course, that the person in pain isn’t doomed to constant misery, and lucks brings its own peculiar, unavoidable hardship; thankfully, everyone of us, in one way or another, is fucked. It’s where we go from there that makes the difference.
–Dr. Lastname

Just a few years ago, in my early 20s, I was a fun, outgoing law student at a top tier school, on the cusp of beginning a promising career in a competitive field that I loved. But then, out of no where, my health fell apart. Without getting into it, I was diagnosed with a rare, chronic disease that causes me so much pain and fatigue that even the simplest tasks have become arduous. I had to drop out of school, move back home, and learn to deal, not just with the physical pain of everyday life, but with feelings of failure and being a complete loser. All my old friends are moving upwards and onwards, like I was once set to do, and all I can do is take it slow and try to cope with this new, brutal reality. Plus, because my disease is rare and not physically obvious (I look healthy), several friends and even family members have decided that I’m not sick, but that I just buckled under the competitive pressure of my law career or that I’m just lazy, and am using a fake disease as an excuse. They say things like, “my joints hurt, but I go to work everyday,” and I just want to curl up and die. Between my own disappointment and their cruel judgment, I’ve withdrawn from social interaction almost completely for a year now. My goal is to not completely isolate myself from the world and maybe even start to enjoy some social interaction again despite feeling self-conscious and experiencing such dismissive attitudes from others.

It’s good that you want to get out of your self-imposed solitary confinement—living like that’s unhealthy, even for people who are physically healthy to begin with—but attaching the enjoyment of social interaction onto your goal is not so hot, especially when you’re suffering from a disease that seems to make enjoying anything nearly impossible and gives prospective friends a case of the repulsive willies.

Problem is, despite your best efforts, enjoyment is out of your control, and if you make a big effort to extend yourself socially and run into crap, you’ll feel like a stupid failure and personally rejected, when, really, it’s your standards that are the problem. Yours and everyone else’s.

A better goal is to work at not taking your pain and isolation personally while working out rational standards for what it means to cope with them.

It’s hard not to feel like a failure when you’re no longer meeting expectations that were basic to your career and self-esteem. As a young person, educational institutions teach you to believe that success will follow from hard work and be granted fairly according to merit.

That’s a favorite topic of teachers, principals, and graduation speakers and, of course, it’s pure bullshit. Even the sunscreen crap seems fishy.

It helps motivate those lucky enough to be reasonably gifted, but destroys the self-esteem of the ungifted and those like you who lose their gifts. If you don’t want to take your illness as a personal failure, you must defend yourself from accepting common beliefs that are a part of everyday culture and probably built into your DNA.

You were bright and energetic, now you’re a tired, achy average drone, and you’re fucked. And it’s not personal. What matters is what you do with it.

Your helplessness scares your friends; consciously or subconsciously, they see you, someone who fell so far with no evident cause or cure, and wonder what’s to prevent the same thing from happening to them. You’re the personification of their fear of failure, so of course you’re a pariah. But, just as your affliction was random, their reaction is also not personal. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck, but still.

Your job is to construct measures of success that do not depend on normally accepted, idiotic expectations of accomplishment, or the response of bosses or friends. Your basic measure of success is doing the best with what you’ve got, one day at a time, regardless of what others think or how your results compare with those of other days.

Don’t make a big deal out of the good days or you’ll be discouraged by your inability to do the same tomorrow. What’s important is that you push as hard as you can, every day.

Find and spend time with people who’ve survived chronic, debilitating conditions; if those people are interested in holding weekly pity parties, then avoid them in favor of your fellow sufferers who are proud of themselves.

That’s your goal too: not happiness or friendship, but pride in what you’re doing and a refusal to deal with people who do not accept your condition for what it is. Especially when all they see is a reflection of themselves. True friends will still appreciate you for you, particularly for the courage they perceive in your response to sickness, which is much more important than a corner office and law degree.

STATEMENT:
Formulate a positive statement about what you’re doing with yourself that challenges ignorant criticism from others (and yourself). “My ambitions and values have not changed but I’ve had a serious equipment failure that prevents me from doing many of the things that I and others expected me to do. The more disability I’ve encountered, the more I’ve realized that I continue to value work, independence, friendship, and doing good and that there is much I can do to pursue these values, even if it’s far less than what I used to do, want to do, or see others doing. In terms of results, I appear a loser. But I know the effort it takes to deal with my handicap and, whenever I make that effort, I’m a winner. I welcome help and friendship. I’m not interested in advice about doing things I know can’t be done.”

I am the first person to admit that I’ve had a lot of luck in my life: my parents are loving and supportive; my education was top notch and those connections helped me get to an excellent place in my career at a relatively young age; and, my long-time boyfriend is supportive and financially together, so even though I’ve had my heart broken a couple of times, I’m in a great place in my personal life. The problem is—and I do have problems—that, between my seemingly perfect life and my incredibly demanding work schedule, my friends are quick to be resentful, either because I’m doing so much better than they are or because I’m too busy to actually spend time with them (or really figure out how to schedule time with them even when I’m free). And I know they’re true friends, but I can feel them distancing themselves from me and I don’t know what, if anything, I can do about it. I don’t feel like I should have to apologize for all my luck and hard work. My goal is to be proud, not sorry, for what I’ve accomplished, and for my friends to feel the same.

You’ve hit at one of life’s sad paradoxes: that good luck brings its own special kind of pain to which, of course, there’s no complete answer. (Not that bad luck’s pain has an answer, either; see above.)

When you’re good at doing things and work hard, life gets more complicated. You get handed more responsibilities, you have more to be crabby about and less time to relax, and everyone feels you no longer have time for them. And no right to complain.

Or, if you do have time, you’re too busy relaxing to pay attention, so the only person who is really pleased with you is your boss, and you wonder why you’re unhappy and isolated when you’re the luckiest person in the world. And I wonder why the lord was so kind as to find yet another patient who wants to pay to talk to me so that I can make a living without lifting heavy objects.

If your goal is to feel happier or more relaxed, forget it. You’ll just become more self-critical. If it’s to get your friends to cheer you on instead of being needy, resentful and envious, you’re asking for the impossible and your attitude will widen the gulf with your friends. You’re successful and fucked, fucked by success. And you’re not even on drugs.

But if you accept that a successful life forces you into being a constant disappointment to your friends and family, there’s much you can do with it. For one thing, don’t blame yourself or your friends. The fault is that there’s never enough time or energy, and life is life, and someone should have warned you about this in school, but they didn’t (just about the drugs).

If you focus on achievement alone as the source of your pride, your problem will get worse. But if you try for a better balance, you may well be able to keep the inevitable pain and resentment from becoming too bad.

Decide for yourself where you want to draw the line between work and social commitments. Don’t over-respond to the pleasures or prestige of work or the ill-will of “spurned” friends. You’re trying to make the compromise that best reflects your needs and values.

And if you never achieve the perfect balance, congratulations; you’re human. And you’ve finally found one thing you’re not good at.

STATEMENT:
Make a statement to protect yourself and your friends from translating the frustrations of limited social time and energy into feelings of failed friendship. “I love my work and the way I’m developing professionally but it puts unbelievable strain on friendships that I also treasure. I’m gradually learning how to protect my social time, but it’s hard to do when I’m still an apprentice and my assignments seem to take every minute I have. It won’t be like this forever. My long-term goal is to find a better balance and a way to do a good enough job and be a good enough friend. It won’t be easy or always feel good. I won’t ever feel like I’m doing the perfect job as a professional or friend. But I hope that my professional success will give something special to my social life and compensate for the hard compromises and that my friends will appreciate the fact that I’m making good compromises, even when they feel we don’t have enough time.”