Some days I just want to complain. Maybe it's because I've woken up too early with a budding migraine, or some new joint condition that makes every step hurt. Whatever the cause, it's as if the fighter in my mental boxing ring has dropped her gloves, fallen to the floor, and turned over her power to the bodily evil spirits called Pain and Sleeplessness.
At some point in my life I realized that we adults are just babies in bigger bodies. Do we ever really outgrow our crankiness when we're hungry or tired? Doesn't a grown-up have just as much negative sensation with foot pain as an infant with a diaper rash?
When my husband's stroke symptoms were at their worst, it felt wrong for me to complain about anything. I no longer felt comfortable seeking out a pat on the head and a sympathetic pout. Those are privileges for infants with attentive parents, or adults with fairy godmothers.
It's human (survival) instinct to want to feel powerful and in control, but when it feels like some external force has taken that away, we feel helpless. Helplessness leads to depression, and depression suppresses the immune system and weakens us further. Unlike the crying baby that gets food or a clean diaper after a good cry, all we adults get is a slap-down from our bodies for wallowing.
My urge to complain seems to have a cycle. First, I wake up at, say, 4 AM, tired and cranky. Next, I do an all-call to my body parts to report any discomforts or limitations. Then, I gather my internal complaints in a large mental file that grows and grows until it nearly bursts. Finally, I sit up in bed, turn on the lights, do my morning exercises, fill a beer stein with caffeinated tea, and try to figure out how to turn my misery into an art form.
Sometimes, it is literally an art form. (Notice the sad mother in my drawing below.)
Years earlier, when I was a counselor, I found a different way to add purpose (and control) to my life. I compiled a massive list of the most common issues I heard and dealt with myself, and then wrote a book with quick feel-better insights and affirmations. Each chapter dealt with the most common concerns (anger, boredom, children problems, depression, guilt, bad habits, loneliness, physical problems, relationship issues, self-esteem, stress, worry, anxiety & fear). Silly as it sounds, I still refer to my own writings for a quick pick-me-up because, well, to be honest, level-headed wisdom and self-nurturing are nowhere to be found at 4 AM when my feet hurt.
Once my husband had his stroke, I needed to find a new way to bring purpose and a sense of control to what we were dealing with. I see so many people doing this with social media. On Instagram, for example, there's a massive support group of stroke survivors, caregivers, and people dealing with anything you can imagine. Some have written books or created podcasts, while others simply provide words of encouragement to people in the same boat.
Although my husband is now mostly independent, it was a long haul to get to where we are today. My own way of adding a sense of control to that helpless feeling was to turn my complaints into cartoons.
The best part about complaining in silly drawings is that it makes me laugh at myself. Although I'd originally thought my husband might be offended or embarrassed by some of my creations, he laughs, too.
When it comes to dealing with hardships, we have two choices. We can either throw in our boxing gloves and lie on the floor until a fairy godmother rescues us, or we can turn our misery into something productive and creative.
After all, that's what survival is about…finding a sense of control where it otherwise seems to be lacking.
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