People often ask me, "How do you do it? How do you stay so positive?"

Really? Me? Positive? If you told my family that I'm a positive person, they would laugh their heads off! Unfortunately, they see the real me, and while I try not to let them see it, the "real me" comes out all too often. The real me needs too much help to get normal things done. If I want to go out, for example, someone else has to help me get dressed (usually my husband). Like putting on my socks and shoes, because my spine has deteriorated to the point where I can no longer bend down. Also, my legs no longer bend properly because of my lymphedema. Someone else has to be on hand to get my scooter out of the car, too, because I am not allowed to lift heavy things (I have two hernias). And someone else needs to drive because lately, I can barely reach the pedals in the car. Seriously, I think I'm shrinking!

For someone who is (or was) very independent and would often go out and do things with friends at the spur of the moment, it is frustrating not to be able to get up and go. I have to rely on others. I don't like it that I have become a burden to my family. I know I have, because when we think about vacations or going anywhere at all, it always comes with the "what about Mom?" line in the next breath. For example, to visit my daughter, who lives about eight hours away from us, we have to pack my scooter, a tub-chair, and my CPAP machine. We also have to stay at a hotel, so that means getting an accessible room. Did I happen to mention I'm also accident-prone? Letting me outside in the winter is the last thing my family wants to do because if someone is going to slip and fall, IT WILL BE ME. Hands down! Without exception, if something terrible is going to happen, then I will be the one it happens to. 

Now, does that sound positive to you? My husband says I'm a pessimist. I say I'm a realist. How can I not be? We have been married for 37 years, and the first "accident" I had was on our honeymoon. I reached into my makeup bag and sliced the tip off my finger on an uncovered razor blade. I can't imagine what the maid thought when she saw all the blood.

Throughout the years, I have sprained ankles, snapped tendons, fallen down the stairs (three times, once with my newborn son in my arms). I have broken my thumb three times (going down water slides - don't ask), and let's not forget the accidents in the kitchen (just don't let me near knives). On top of all that, I was diagnosed with an incurable disease that, from time to time, leaves me with severe infections that require me to be hospitalized. All in all, my husband had no idea what he was in for. Poor man.

So how do I not give in to feeling sorry for myself and have a pity party? I have five key strategies that I have relied on for years, and without them, I think I would go mad. I share them here because maybe you are in a situation where you want to give up and cry. Trust me - I have had those days. Don't give into them. Pity parties are the worst sort of parties. They only have one person attending them - YOU! So before you throw one for yourself, try one of these strategies instead.​

“Mary!” she exclaimed as she drew her close. “Dear Mary! What are you doing here?”

“Elisabeth!” Mary hugged her and at the sound of Mary’s greeting, Elisabeth gasped and clutched her stomach.

In a loud voice, she exclaimed, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear.”

Mary’s eyes widened in shock. Elisabeth knows? How could she know?

“But why am I so favoured, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?” Elisabeth asked, cupping Mary’s cheek with her hand. “As soon as the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. You are blessed my child, because you have believed everything the Lord has told you.”