I frequently tell this parable to my patients. And honestly, I think I could stand to listen to it myself:
Bob was driving to work when his car stopped. Bob valued independence above all else, so he
decided to fix the problem himself. He
opened the hood of the car and tried to determine what had gone wrong. It was hard to see through the thick smoke,
but Bob kept rummaging through the parts of his car until he found an open
flame. Bob’s hands were badly burned and
he fell backward in surprise, injuring himself further. Bob had to go to the hospital.
Was Bob really independent in this story? Of course not. Injuring himself and putting others at risk was not true independence.
Paradoxically, to be independent in this circumstance, Bob would have called the fire department and eventually a mechanic. To be truly independent, he would have relied on someone else’s help.
Our society seems to think “independence” means doing things on our own. Anyone who can’t is seen as weak or inadequate. This attitude is pervasive and has been around for generations—I can even hear it in my geriatric patients’ turns of phrase. So often, my patients express to me that they feel they are “a burden” to their families for needing so much help. And I myself fall prey to this lie as well.
I’ve read enough mommy bloggers to know that a woman is supposed to be able to flip gluten-free pancakes in an immaculately kept kitchen while changing her baby’s diaper with one hand, keeping her toddler out of trouble with another, and helping her first grader with his math homework. So when my menstrual symptoms affect my balance and I can’t even walk the dog, or I’m overwhelmed with house chores and work, or I need help processing my emotions, or I just can’t seem to do it all on my own, I feel inadequate. I feel like I've lost my dignity, however briefly.
Maybe we all need to redefine “independence.”
True independence means taking charge of our own safety and using our resources. Sometimes that means asking a friend or family member for help when we’re overwhelmed. Sometimes it means making sure someone is with us when we get out of bed so we don’t fall. Sometimes it means going to a support group or attending therapy. Sometimes it just means using a walker or safety device. True independence is different for everyone and changes over time.
I’d like to hear that again, because I’m prone to comparing
myself to others. In fact, I’m going to
let Mneme, the Muse of Memory, repeat it for us so we can commit this to
memory:
Once upon a time, when I lived briefly in a barrio in the Caribbean, I encountered a family who seemed to really get it. In this family, there were several family members with disabilities—some children, some adults. All the family members helped each other out—nieces and aunties, mothers and daughters all worked together. Now, that’s not to say there wasn’t suffering, and it’s not to say it wasn’t frustrating. But as a team, they overcame many more obstacles than any of them could have overcome alone.
We can all learn from this family.
Many of my patients’ families are similar to the family I just described. They rely on each other. I have so much to learn from their bravery, compassion, and healthy interdependence. I hope to accept help with humility and to stop judging myself for relying on my support network.
I’ll leave you with a quote from the old Claymation Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer: Let’s be independent together.
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I’ve put a new handout in the SLP freebies section. It’s a simple text-only motivational poster that’s good for SLPs, patients, and everyone else. (It’s a little wordy, so probably best for higher level patients, especially those with lack of insight into deficits or who are feeling really discouraged.) Click here to download the handout. Feel free to modify however you want. Please print and distribute freely.
