Or what it means to me at least. I like that quote because it leaves so much open to be interpreted. Maybe it means nothing to you -- and I respect that -- but to me it says that it just is. It doesn't matter where you put the wood shavings of life, they will still be wood shavings. Not necessarily bad wood shavings, just wood shavings (or chocolates if you would rather relate to Forrest Gump instead). Something I repeat to my family often when they bemoan my fate because, believe it or not, I try not to bemoan with them because it just is and all my bemoaning won't change a thing. Yeah, most days it sucks, but it just is, there is nothing to be done about it but shuffle my wood shavings into whatever receptacle is most fitting for my mood, whether that be a bucket, pail, toilet, barf pan or even a bed pan. I never really had the "why me's" because I can only answer myself, "why not me?" I wouldn't give this to anyone else regardless of how I feel about them. Not even my worst enemies because then I would have to feel a measure of sympathy for them that I am not willing to extend.
My mom always says she wishes it were her instead of me that got the MS, and I always say, "what a load of MANURE!" My mommy has her BSN in nursing that she got in extremely difficult circumstances. After my dad walked out she worked full time and went to school full time to try and make our lives better by being able to provide for us because my dad tried to get out of paying child support and was very successful in avoiding it for many years. (Wow. That was a run on sentence that could rival Defoe's record for Most-Words-With-The-Least-Punctuation.). She donates blood as often as possible, she volunteers with the Red Cross, and even does volunteer work at local schools. She is not someone who needs to be limited by MS. I never did any of the above and, the way I see it, I have less to offer (due to my selfish, lazy nature) then she does. She does far more for this world and all who inhabit it then I do, and it would be criminal to give her my MS just because, as a mother, she would rather take on the all bad things that happen to her chicks (she is a total mother hen).
No matter what it does to me, it still just is. The good, the bad, and the ugly -- and it can get very ugly (steroids anyone? Especially after 5 days of being revved up to superhuman levels, then the crash that leaves my unable to move off the couch for a good 2 days afterwards.) I'll admit I enjoy my bad attitude; I enjoy wearing it like a loving cloak wrapped around me; I enjoy the energy it gives me to push the limits of what I can and cannot do; I enjoy the humor it gives me to deal with this disease, even if I'm the only one amused; I enjoy the choice of where I want to put my wood shavings each day. It's a quote that really speaks to me. It says, "it just is, Blindbeard."
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