In honour of Health Activist Writer’s Month Challenge, today’s Sunday Quotes is about Activism.
An activist is one who is actively involved in creating community, whether that is locally in their neighborhood or internationally. It is an admirable quality. Jasmine Guy
An activist is someone who makes an effort to see problems that are not being addressed and then makes an effort to make their voice heard. Sometimes there are so many things that it’s almost impossible to make your voice heard in every area, but you can sure try. Joanne Woodward
I have referred to myself as an accidental activist on more than one occasion. Joan Blades
I think the importance of doing activist work is precisely because it allows you to give back and to consider yourself not as a single individual who may have achieved whatever but to be a part of an ongoing historical movement. Angela Davis
Welcome to the first prompt of the Health Activist Writer’s Month Challenge by WEGO Health for April 2012. Today’s prompt asks what would we put in a time capsule, to be opened in 2112, that focuses on me and my health and what might people think of the contents.
First, a bit about me. I have an inner ear disorder that is an invisible chronic illness. It’s called invisible because you can’t see what the physical disability is that I have by looking at me. Most of the time I appear “normal”, unless my ear monster is acting up, then you may see me walking and think that I’ve had a drink or few. And chronic illness is different from an acute illness. These are the definitions of acute and chronic illness from The Medical Dictionary:
any disorder that persists over a long period and affects physical, emotional, intellectual, vocational, social, or spiritual functioning.
The Ear, Nose and Throat doctor could not give me a specific diagnosis but was able to confirm that something was wrong with me physically. Ask people who have an invisible chronic illness and there’s a decent chance that someone they have seen in the medical profession decided that the illness is psychologically-based.
I have issues with disequilibrium, a feeling of being off-balance. I very rarely get close to a vertigo attack but I owe that to the fact that I will, for example, sit at my computer and read the newspaper, catch up on emails and visit various sites while I have my breakfast. When I’m done, I lie down so that I give my ears a rest. Not my arms, legs or other body parts but my ears. And I have to do this throughout the day. If I don’t, the disequilibrium gets worse and worse to the point that I lose my balance and start to fall to the side. Because of this, I can’t work so I’m on disability because of my ears.
When I first became sick, I used the analogy of being on a boat and bobbing along the water as a way to describe how it felt inside my head. I chose some pictures and videos for my time capsule and a short description on how they show what it is I’m feeling in my head as I go through my day.
I’m not going to try and guess what the people of the year 2112 may think of the contents of my time capsule. What I hope to accomplish with the pictures and videos is to help bring some understanding and awareness to how I and others feel on a daily basis.
I looked at this wonderful picture and immediately saw my ear monster in the wave on the right. He’s checking out what’s happening, his hands on the wall ready to propel him into action. Each day offers a new way to shake things up for me. Each day, I am affected.
(Image via thinking-stoneman.blogspot.ca)
I chose these videos because I think this best represents how it feels inside my head. Imagine you’re on a boat, no oars to help paddle. No way to gain control of the boat to get to the firmness and stability of the shore. You are at the mercy of the waves. Some days I feel like I’m in a small boat with lots of motion, other days I feel like I’m in a larger boat but with less motion. I still feel movement, but the size of the boat helps determine how much motion I feel.
On my good days, I will feel small ripples. There’s not too much motion, but enough to let me know the monster is always there.
(Image via physics.uoguelph.ca)
Some days I have no control over my ears. A cold, allergies, using too many of my spoons (read The Spoon Theory if you don’t know what I mean) or changes in the weather produces a constant motion in my head, even before I get out of bed.
(Image via free-extras.com)
Sometimes I’m sitting still, reading or watching tv and I am not physically moving, but inside my head it feels like a wave has slammed into me, shoving me from my spot and I’m falling over. But again, I’m sitting still.
On good days, I feel a bit of movement in my head, but not that much and I’m able to be a little bit active. Go for a walk, get a few groceries, the things I used to take for granted before I got sick.
(Image via missrosen.wordpress.com)
This is Mirror Lake in China. I chose this picture because for a short time each day, the water seems almost still. On rare days, I get very lucky. All is calm with my world. I never know when those days will happen. I take them when I can and enjoy them.
(Image via travelblog.org)
However, we know that no matter how calm things appear on the surface, there is always movement underneath. And some days, it is overwhelming and I spend a lot of the day in bed.
(Image via mysuburbannews.com.au)
Each day, as I’m waking up, I feel like the person in the picture below, looking, searching for clues as to how my day will be and how my ears and the ear monster will be treating me that day.
sunshine and chaos 