If you’ve been following along for a while, you know that one of my identities - perhaps the one that I’ve held for the longest - is reader. Those of you who follow me on GoodReads know that I’m not a one-book-at-a-time person. I almost always have an audiobook and a physical book going. Often, I’m also reading a book for a group read or a book for work as well. Occasionally, I sit a book aside for a while in order to give my attention to a library book.
I’ve also been taking writing classes, which has made me even more attentive to the craft of writing. I love comparing how authors start their books, how they maintain momentum, how they weave together different storylines, how they craft their sentences. Recently, I’ve been paying a lot of attention to chapters.
Some books have short chapters, each running only a few pages, always enticing me to read just one more. Others have chapters that require a commitment; each chapter takes an hour or even two, but the return is an immersive experience. These chapters can contain multiple characters or vast expanses of time. Some books forgo chapters entirely, unfolding over a few parts or acts or never allowing the reader to come up for air. The story must be seen as one continuous unfolding, the authors seem to be saying, each scene tied so closely to the last that it is unimaginable to break them apart.
When I do research on people’s identities or life stories, I use chapters as a way to help them tell me their own story. “Think about your life as a series of chapters,” I’ll instruct them. Each chapter represents a significant period of time, perhaps a time when you were in a single location or when you were focused on a single role. Each chapter may have a unique focus or theme. Breaking one’s life into chapters is often more easily done in hindsight. The breaks between chapters may only become clear after the next chapter has begun to take shape.
Still, I find myself wondering, from time to time, if this moment, right now, is a new chapter in my life. When I look back on my life, will this disruption result in a significant enough change that I will wrap the previous chapter up in a nice package and insert a page break before starting with the next Roman numeral in the series? Some life events are clear signals of the need for a new chapter - graduations, marriage, childbirth, changing careers, retiring. Some of these events require letting go of an old identity, adopting a new identity, or significantly changing how an existing identity is lived out. Others are less clear. Changes may be gradual, unremarkable until the small changes add up and definitively change who you are.
My experience of Parkinson’s has been more similar to the second kind of change. Although I went from being just a slightly shaky 48 year old to being a person with Parkinson’s in the blink of an eye, the actual physical changes have been slower, and for this I am grateful. Almost five years into being a person with Parkinson’s, I am still similar in many ways to the person I was before the diagnosis. But right now, I am in the middle of what I sometimes refer to a health disruption. A couple of weeks ago, I passed out, and I’m still not back to full strength yet. Like a driver confused by a roundabout, I’m not even sure that I’m heading in the direction of full strength.
It’s still early days. Perhaps this is just a part of the normal ups and downs that mark the changes my day-to-day physical capabilities. I can keep planning for the best and adjusting when the best is nowhere to be found. But this strategy is disruptive, requiring me to cancel meetings and miss deadlines. It puts me behind where I had planned to be in achieving my goals. It makes every day feel like an uphill battle. One day this week, I canceled most of my meetings. I spent a lot of time laying down. But I also got up every so often and set my timer to make just 25 minutes of progress. I’m grateful that I have the flexibility to adjust when I need to, but when adjusting becomes the norm, is it time for a new chapter?
This honestly scares me. I like my current chapter. I’m with Meg and Charles Wallace on Uriel, the planet in A Wrinkle in Time that provides a comforting contrast to the dark and evil Camazotz. I’d like to stay here among the rolling hills and the colorful flowers. I am comfortable here, and I still have more that I want to accomplish in this chapter. So I am holding tightly to the roles and responsibilities that are associated with this chapter.
But I am also beginning to wonder what my next chapter will look like. Am I headed to Camazotz? What can I realistically expect of myself and what will the theme of that chapter be? What new tools do I need and what challenges must I overcome? Who will come with me and who will I have to leave behind? When does holding tightly need to shift to letting go?
This is a beautiful chapter Amy. I felt your fear. I'm glad you are accepting the emotions and also making progress. My heart is with you.
I have always loved your chapter metaphor, Amy. And I know for a fact that no matter what your next chapter might be and when it might come, it will be a fabulous one.