Am I normal?

I must have seen the movie every time it has been on television.  Tom Hank's portrayal of WWII soldier, Captain John H. Miller, in the critically acclaimed movie "Saving Private Ryan" has so much depth, layers and profound meaning that the story draws me  to watch again, and again, and again.  The story of the experiences and the war imagery is without a doubt the best betrayal of the horrors and humanity of war told through fictional characters -- characters that for many viewers depicted what is said to be fairly accurate historical settings and events.  One on-line television-viewer-reviewer, a non-professional just like one of us ordinary folks, sums up an important aspect of the movie: "What I saw there was the extraordinary circumstances into which ordinary people were thrown and what happened to them. I saw the things that would mark a generation (I have heard in my elderly male patients sentiments similar to what Cpt. Miller was expressing when he announced his ordinariness)..." [See IMBd Website. )  

I never saw any war, like my grandparent's generation did, but I am pulled to Miller's question at the end of the movie, when he begs his wife with this soul-wrenching: (paraphrased) "Tell me if I've led a good life.  Tell me I've been a good man."

How does one know the value -- if there has been value - to one's life still being led?  Some say this is a question borne of depression.  I don't agree.  I think sometimes that traumas and pain, emotional or physical, can cause this kind of questioning, again and again, as one moves through their so-called "normal life." For the fictional character of Captain Miller and the thousands and thousands of very real and very human Veterans of Wars, the question might come from the horrible scenes that re-play in their minds of the cruelties of war and having escaped death while their close buddies died.  For adults severely abused as children, the question might come from wondering how, in so much brokenness, one's life and even one's very self has had or has any value.  And for people in chronic illness or chronic pain, the question may come simply because one cannot live the "normal life" others do and the life which has shifted just out of one's grasp.  From each of these events, ordinary children of both sexes, and adult men and women, are simply thrown head-long into profoundly extraordinary circumstances.

It isn't a question borne simply from depression!   It's a question in an exquisitely painful search for meaning -- a question that psychologists have said belongs only to ones of middle age or older generations, when a person reviews their life for meaning, such as in Self-Actualization (From Abraham Maslow's "Hierarchy of Needs" which has been re-worked, added to, altered, and re-interpreted by countless other professionals since the 1950s.)   Someone struggling with this question does not have to be a certain age (as Maslow's work implies) though.  Because the question can arise from or after so many experiences, I could have easily put this page under the section set aside for child abuse issues, or in the area for disability issues, or medical issues -- or even under the psychology section.  But I've placed this page under "pain issues" for two reasons: first, because physical pain can be so severe that it becomes more important (larger than life) than any other experiences one has had in life, and second, because the search for meaning in one's life can become so clouded by the very real restrictions pain has a way of creating in one's life.

The problem for most people, in pain or not, is that it is very, very difficult to step out of one's own life, step back, and be objective enough about one's own life, in the midst of LIVING one's life.  This is why many people who are engaged in this kind of psychological question end up taking time away from their real life, by going on a vacation to a serene place where one can think, or finding time to put themselves into places where they can connect to earth and nature.  But, "getting away" is not as easy to do for people who are in severe daily pain, or are unable to be independent.  I know I've often fantasized about "getting away," ALONE, but my reality is that I cannot "go" anywhere without asking "someone" to take me to the place I want to go!  How much harder it is to arrange time away from one's normal life if one is bedridden, hospitalized, living in a nursing home -- or when there is no way to financially GET AWAY from one's usual daily life!  It just isn't the same if one has to drag along not only an extra person (who must arrange time away from their own life, job or family), but also drag along cane, walker, wheelchair, 16 bottles of medicines, alarm clocks to remind when to take those meds....and the seemingly "thousands" of other things a disabled or ill person must have with them just to live their now-normal life!

So right "there" is stuck an ill or disabled person -- wherever "there" happens to be -- along with all the equipment now needed to simply live, with caregivers who help them live, and far too many obstacles to count or list here.  It is near impossible for most people to get away.  And it is never possible to get away from the physical PAIN that consumes one's body.  

So, wherever the ill or disabled person is in physical life, "there" is where they must try to untangle the "meaning" questions of their life.   It is much harder to get an objective view of oneself, when one feels constantly stuck by the limitations that disability or pain imposes on living.  It's a difficult way to untangle this inherently painful question!

Has the question been defined though?   The question of meaning (itself) IS often difficult to define.  It kind of boils down to:  Is and has what I am and have been, been good enough, and is or has what I do or have done in my life have any LASTING meaning, beyond me just lamely getting through each day, struggling to get through each day, or when I've actually accomplished not only getting through each day but also feel like I contributed - something of meaning - to myself or the world?   And does what I "did" truly have meaning to anyone else besides myself?  

And, the same way it feels for every human being facing the question of meaning in one's life, it SEEMS that value and worth only resides in what one has DONE, not in what one IS as a person.   This is why these question often first come up when an older person retires from their job.  For the ill and disabled, there was never and will never be an official retirement.  Jobs were often ripped away, along with other parts of normal life, by whatever illness, injury or accident that landed us in this different life.  So the question of meaning comes up sooner in the life of someone young who is sick and in pain, especially if they never had long enough to "make their mark" through an occupation.  Some psychologists have stated that people can only survive life by finding SOME meaning or purpose in their life, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant.   Yet, it's often a fact that the true meaning of an individual's life cannot be seen by that person's eyes!  Such is the case with those we admire as Saints, Martyrs, or historical figures and icons.  And, more important, sometimes the real value and worth of an individual person is actually only seen through the ordinariness of a person's life, or the person's ability to be courageous, to strive, to persevere, to continue despite the odds, through the most -- seemingly -- unimportant but difficult life.  Many heroic historical figures would say that they simply made choices as life demanded of them daily, choices between equally awful-looking options.

Since I cannot "go away," I sometimes try to mentally and emotionally put distance between myself and my life, to see if there's a way I can evaluate my life and its meaning.  I remember, as if it is in a misty time, when I had a job and my life seemed to have more purpose than my shoes could fill.  And I long to FEEL that same purpose again, despite how I often felt unable in the past to do more than falter along in my role as a nurse, wanting so much to help my patients who were suffering, who were terminally ill and facing their own very-near end to their lives.  I felt small and puny in the face of so much cosmic injustice and the awesome power of the universe!  Yet, I also felt ... I had a role, a job given to me by that same immense universe.  The universe never showed me which way it was going - or why.  And I often had to just guess as to just what I was supposed to say or do in order to do my "job" with integrity and value, and do my job in such a way that honored my patients and their lives.  But, within all my un-knowingness then, I did feel that intense sense of purpose in my life, through my occupation.  Nursing is the only job I think in which simply holding someone's hand as they die feels like the biggest responsibility that the universe can give to one person!

But.... now.... I hold no one's hand.  I comfort no one as they face death.  I ease no one's suffering through the skills of being a nurse.  Who am I?  What am I now?  What value is my life - NOW?

The things I do now, as a person and patient in pain, seem so insignificant.  If I categorize what I "do" now in life, the majority of my time is spent writing (on various topics that I am passionate about).   The next biggest area of what I "do" is the collection and preservation of facts and the stories of other person's lives through my hobby, genealogy.  And, the third largest thing that fills my day is attempting to help other people with things I have learned or know a little about, such as helping someone else with researching their family tree.  All other parts of my life just FEEL like... like I'm taking up space and am a burden to others who must help me live my daily life.   

Having documented the plain and usual lives of hundreds of ancestors and relatives in my family tree, I tell other researchers how I find value in the really very ordinary lives of people from the past.   I profess that those ancestors had value, simply because they lived!  Even if they were farmers, or oil men, and didn't "do" anything fantastic or extraordinary in their lives, their lives had meaning.  

So, why is it so hard to know this same thing about myself and my own life?  

Can you say your life has value, despite all the limitations caused from your past, from your illness, or from your pain?