Quelling the Monkeys

My therapist tells me a story of a shelf in her house. It bows under too much weight. The manufacturer swears up and down it should support the load placed on it.   

It doesn’t. 

Well… perhaps it does. Just not in the way the consumer intended. After all, it hasn’t broken or given any indication it will. 

The books sit atop the shelf long enough to make the bow permanent. There is no denying the shelf is damaged even if its load is lightened. The once promising wood sags for all to see but is still deceptively strong. 

The metaphor sits with me for days. The lesson isn’t that I’m damaged but still strong. I’ve already learned that:  I’m still here. It’s not even that a book or two can be removed. I’ve done that and I’ve ripped some chapters out of the books that are part of my permanent library. 

The shelf should be able to hold the weight. Its materials and construction are on target. It shouldn’t bow. In fact, the manufacturer has stated it should sustain even more. 

It should.  It shouldn’t. It doesn’t.  But. It. Should. 

But I should be able to do the thing. Whatever the thing is. I’m better than I was. I shouldn’t need a break after making the bed. I should be able to concentrate enough to finish an article. I should be able to work by now. 

I should all over myself. 

A woman in a previous support group called these thoughts Monkeys. They screech and rattle the bars to be heard.  Each has a different, often contrary message.  But it all boils down to noise in my head. 

The shelf story addresses the Should Monkeys.  

It should. It doesn’t.  That’s where the thought ends. 

Insisting that it should do what it doesn’t is circular thought. No amount of insistence, desire, or willpower will change the situation.   It is what it is. Don’t add any more stress to the shelf. Accept the shelf’s limitations despite all the Should Monkeys screeching. 

Accepting a chronic illness is neither easy nor giving up. The latter has stuck with me for a long time.  I’d like to think I’ve ripped that chapter out but the Authors like too much to let it go. 

I am chronically ill. It doesn’t matter what my diagnoses are. My shelf is bowed. I may lighten its burden, but the damage is done. I can say it should bear a heavier load, but it doesn’t. Getting another shelf isn’t an option. It’s imperative to take care of what I’ve got. 

Because with the proper attention, that shelf will hold up just fine for as long as I need it.