New Year, New Me: Embracing the Dystonia Blur

The end of 2015 brought a lot of changes into my life, some unplanned – and frankly – a little scary.

I lost my job, and at the same time was confronted by limitations brought about by chronic health conditions, including dystonia, essential tremor, and lichen sclerosus.  As it turns out, losing the job was a true blessing, as I’m about to start in a position that’s much better suited to me, doing meaningful work with a caring group of people.

I’ve mainly relied on my independence, strength, and achievement to navigate through life, and always took care to hide vulnerability.

This was especially true with regard to my hyperkinetic movement disorders, including dystonia and essential tremor. My hand and head shaking embarrassed me, as it meant loss of control, and I spent a lot of energy hiding and finding ways to compensate for my limitations.

In December, I had the wonderful opportunity to speak to a perceptive young man about how I’ve dealt with dystonia. I mentioned some of the usual things: regular exercise, a strong support system of family and friends, use of online networks.  And then I shared my real passion – photography. I became excited trying to describe the joy this creative pursuit brings to my life.

When I’ve got my camera in hand, I’m looking at the world with open eyes, spotting images that tell stories, capture beauty, and express a mood.  I’m totally in the moment, and let go of all other thoughts.

My new young friend, also a photographer, really understood.  I shared that, as my tremor and motor rigidity worsens, I have to delete so many of the photos I take, keeping only those images not ‘ruined’ by a blur.  He stopped me to ask why I couldn’t ‘play’ with that blur to see what it reveals.  Maybe if I can view the ‘imperfection’ differently, I might find discover something valuable.

I have a new year ahead, and I’m ready to test the waters and see if I can ‘embrace the blur’.  I’ve started looking through some old photos where the blur actually seemed to enhance the image, and I’m grateful I didn’t hit that delete key.

Embracing the blur might also mean growing more comfortable with vulnerability and imperfection, making peace with this quirky body.


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