Everyone has a story to tell. We are the product of not only the stories we tell but also the stories we hear. The act of telling our story can, in itself, bring healing simply because there is a healing power in story. Through story, we connect our lives with those around us and we become characters in their stories. What character do you play in the stories you tell?

My daughters took issue with a few of my more recent posts; either they didn’t like them or they didn’t understand them. I argued my case but couldn’t sway either one of them. They wanted me to write about how I am doing and more specifics about the disease. In my zeal to prove them wrong, I picked one of my earlier ones, one of my favorites, Parkinson’s Sucks, and read it. The edge that was so evident in my earlier posts was gone! How did that happen?  The tone did change, but was it for the better? It came across as more upbeat, at least I think it did. So what caused the change? My inquiring mind wanted to know.

What started out as a quest, a challenge put forth by a podcaster and writer that frequented my playlist, to make this year the best year ever actually turned into a reality. In my head, my goals were clear, put the anger and the hurt behind me get on with my life. But to do so, I had to wrestle with what it meant to be a vibrant participant in a fast paced society, in a culture that rewards youth and vitality. I began looking for validation that there were places where someone like me, who walked a little differently at times, could still make a meaningful contribution in the workforce and to the family. There was no way around it, I had to tell my story even if no one listened. Only then could I create a space for the healing to begin. Slowly the anger subsided, the small victories were met with words of affirmation, doors opened where none were before.

Instead of driving the change process, I was content in the role of a passive observer, all the while seizing opportunities as they arose to change the course of my emotional state. Yet, there was so much I was not willing to give up.  After all, I still wanted to have a normal life. But my definition of normal needed to change and that it did. Normal, made way for something that has been rather extraordinary. I was provided multiple opportunities to tell my story, to develop a platform to encourage others and even pursue some long forgotten passions. Not too bad; not bad at all. Suffice to say, 2016 has been the best year ever and its only September.

I like the tone and texture of my earlier post, but I was at a different place than than where I am now. Metaphorically speaking, I was in a desert, whether it was because of an unintentional drift or having been led there for a time of pruning, how I got there isn’t the issue. I couldn’t write from the perspective of joy or optimism 9-months ago no more than I could write from a prism of stagnation now. The heart of the issue became crystal clear, I was waiting for someone to pick me up in their air-conditioned limo and drive me out of my desert, when in fact I had all I needed to get myself out. All it took was a leap of faith, the desire to want more out of life and the willingness to embrace that possibility that I might fall flat on my face. I can attest that something really good, even beautiful, came out of the dust and ashes of my journey.

Thank you for allowing my story to connect with yours. It has been my pleasure to share these thoughts with you each week. I appreciate your patience when I take a fork in the road that takes us down a rabbit trail, landing on a topic that appears out-of-place. It  may be nothing, or it may be a seed that will bear fruit in another season. What I have learned is that sometime it’s about the journey other times the destination. Thanks for coming along side and becoming a part of my story. Through your simple act of reading, I realized the healing power of story.

Thanks for reading, liking and sharing,

Al and his faithful sidekick Ivy the wonder pup.