ÉTOUFFÉE

Étouffée: the French word for “to smother.”  Recently, I learned the underlying meaning for the cooking process to make the Cajun stew, It is interesting to me to consider how words can elicit different visceral responses.  Somehow, to smother me using the French word sounds pleasant and soft (and maybe even tasty), but to smother me using the English word is distasteful and anxiety producing.

Several year ago, I was diagnosed with myotonic dystrophy.  At first, I needed to use a cane to get around.  It was easy.  I could go anywhere and do anything.  The options were endless: taking walks or a workshop were easy; restaurant choices were based on interest; spending time with friends was just a matter of scheduling.  Freedom and independence were my two mantras.  Bit by bit, life changed.  Now, if I want to go anywhere, I need help.  Stores and restaurant choices are limited to those that can accommodate a wheelchair.  I can no longer take workshops at the Palette and Chisel in Chicago because their entrance has stairs and their classes are held on the third floor.  Gradually, I am being confined to a life of “cannots.”  I am being smothered.

What do I do now?  Find a way to turn smother into étouffée; make my life tasty.  I am convinced that our choice of what “thinking paths” we employ will determine our emotional health.  It is a struggle to free myself from depression and sadness.  I fight not to be angry.  My time is limited.  I refuse to give in to living at the bottom.

Everyone of us has a choice every day of what we think, how we think, and what we think about.  I implore you; think on whatsoever things are true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, and of good report.  (Philippians 4:8)

Keep fighting the darkness. You are not alone.