がんばらないこと - Trying not to try too hard

天候: 羊雲がきれいな晴れ　24°C
元気度（勢い）: 2.5/10　
気分: 5/10
体調: 3/10
ちょっと疲れてしまって、寝床でこれをゆっくり書いています。

なーんて言ったり、昨日書いたような泣き言を言ったり
すると両親や友人が心配するかと考え、書くのやっぱり
やめようかなー、といつも思います。　でも勝手ながら
セラピーになるし、同じ病気の方にも読んで頂くので、
「ホホホ、私ったらいつも元気で前向きで機嫌いいのよー」
と書いても嘘っぽいし（大嘘）、あんまり参考にならないかと、
正直にそのまんま気持ちや学んだことを書いています。

諏訪中央病院で地域に密着した医療を推進、確立された
鎌田實氏の「あきらめない」という本を読み終えて、
（考えてみたらこれだけでも進歩！前は手と腕と首が痛いのと
目まいで読書どころじゃなかった。　文庫本は軽くていいですね）
心に響くこと、医療、また現代社会における家族のあり方に
ついて「そう、私もそう考えていました！」と共感することが
いろいろとありました。

（いろいろな形のケアを実践された元病院長の言うことなので、
説得力があります。　中のエッセイには、余命３ヶ月と言われて
その後子供のため１年８ヶ月生きたお母さんの話や、従姉妹の夫に
関係を強いられて大学卒業直前にシングルマザーになった女性の
話など、想像を絶する状況に負けなかったひとがたくさん
出てきますが、それを見て鎌田医師が感ずることがいいです。）

例えば、現代医療では病気になった人の体のその局所しか
見ず、その人またその家族を「まるごと」看ることがない、
ということ。　また、団塊世代以降は家族ひとりひとりが自立して
生活するのにこだわって、家族がみんなバラバラになってしまい、
支えあうのが難しくなったが、それはミステイクかも、ということ。
あと、死を病としてとらえるのは特定の文化に限られている、
という点など。　

なかでも一番今の心に響いたのは、あとがきの中で
「がんばる」という言葉についておっしゃっていることです。

　「がんばろう」、と言っている間は一本の道しか見えない。
その道から逸れてはいけない、落ちこぼれてはいけないという
意識が働きつづける。たくさんのストレスを背負う。
心が疲れる。
　ところが、「がんばらない」と、「ない」という積極的な
強い口調の二文字をつけて言った瞬間、
道は一本でなくて、三つも四つもあることがわかる。
出世すること、世の中で成功すること、有名になることだけが
人生ではないと気づく。

そして病気や逆境に負けない人はこの「がんばらない」と、
「あきらめない」、「希望を持ち続ける」ことが揃っているようだ、
と本のなかでおっしゃっています。

私はどうもこれまで、「頑張ります！」と言うことが多かったようです。
好きな数学のように（それにも道は実はいろいろあるのですが）、
これをこうすればこうなる、というような直線的な見方で
治療に取り組んでいました。

短気なこともあるのですが、それで効果が見られないと、
憤慨してもっとがんばってみようと、ストレスを溜めて
からまわりしていたような気がします。
人間の体はそんなに単純ではありませんし、
わかっていない部分、つまりは可能性もほかに
いっぱいあるのに。

以前日本からアメリカに来たばかりの方に、
「日系のアメリカ人の方、特に一世、二世は、
今の日本人より日本人らしい気概があることが
多いんですよ、昔、彼らが移住してきた時点での日本を
受け継いでいらっしゃるから」と説明したことが
ありましたが、私自身がよく考えたらちょっと古い
日本人なのかも知れません。　

９０年代に日本経済が落ち込んでからは
「がんばる」ことがもうあまり流行らないのに、
私の中身は「がんばらなあかん、がんばれば
結果が出るんだから」という、体育会系、
一辺倒の気質だったのでしょう。

一瞬、「これから頑張り過ぎないように頑張ります」
とか書いて締めくくろうとして笑ってしまいました。
肩肘をはらないよう、回り道の人生も楽しんで
受け入れていけるよう、柔軟な心持でいられるよう、
心がけようと思います。悲しみと同様、時間が癒して
くれることもあるのでしょうから。

-英

追伸　こんなことを考える余裕があるのも
まわりの皆様のおかげで、ありがたいことです。
もっと苦しい生活や孤独な環境のの中で、立ち止まって
考える暇もなく病気をされる方もいらっしゃるでしょうに、
ぼおっとする時間をいただいて感謝しています。　
私を支えてくださっている皆さん、ありがとうございます。


Weather: Sunny; 68°F
Energy Level: 2.5 out of 10
Mood: 5/10
Health: 3/10

I wore myself out a bit lately, so I'm dabbling with writing in bed.

After I say things like that or when I whine in the middle of the night like I did yesterday, I often think about stopping myself, because I hate to make people like my family and friends worry. But it does end up being therapeutic, and when I think about those who read my blog with similar ailments, I don't want to really cover up anything. I don't want to say "Hi! I'm well and hopeful and chipper all the time!" - that would simply not be true, and it would be a disservice to those who may want to peer into my experience. So I tell it like it is; how I feel, what I've learned.

I just finished reading a Japanese "bunko" (= pocket-sized - basically paperback, but much smaller & lighter than the American version!) book, Akiramenai (Not Giving Up), written by Minoru Kamata. (Come to think of it, this in itself is a huge improvement. Before, holding a book was a huge chore with the pain in my hands/arms/neck, and I was way too dizzy to finish reading one.) Dr. Kamata was the long-time director of a municipal hospital in the mountain town of Suwa in Japan; he has long (30 years) advocated and worked for community-based medical care, better end of life care, more holistic medicine, and better in-home care in his community and beyond.

The book was a collection of his essays chronicling his thoughts and encounters with patients and friends who simply would not give up hope - a lot of them with illnesses like terminal cancer; one of them was a single mother who was in her fourth year of college (one term short of graduating) when she found out she was pregnant from being raped by her cousin's husband. He has seen thousands of patients, often to their deaths, so this was not a light read.

There were a lot of things in this book which made me go, "I've been thinking of that, too!" (Except he said it better with more credibility.)

For example, he pointed to the fact that modern medicine tends to only look at the body part at which they consider the illness to be occurring, and the fact doctors fail to see the whole individual and further, such as effects of the illness on patient's family. He talked about the modern family dynamics in which the emphasis is on living independent lives away from each another, and the fact that this made caring for one another difficult. He also talked about how death is regarded as a feared problem or an illness in modern Japan (same here) - and how this is cultural; in other cultures death is a part of everyday life, a natural course, not something people are afraid of.

The one thing that spoke to me the most is what he said in his afterword, about the word ganbaru. The Japanese word ganbaru can mean "to try hard/with all one's might," "to stick it out," "to endure," etc.

"While you are saying "I will ganbaru (try hard)," you only see one path. You are constantly afraid to go off that single path; you are nervous to somehow not follow it. This is stressful on you. Your mind/heart will be exhausted.

But, once you say to yourself "ganbaranai (I won't ganbaru/try hard)," you realize that the path is not just one, but there are three or four [or more]. You begin to realize, climbing up the ranks in your career, being successful in the conventional sense, or becoming a bigger name is not all there is to life."

In the book, he goes on to say that those who overcome impossible obstacles tend to have these characteristics in common: They "ganbaranai (don't try too hard)," "akiramenai (don't give up)," and they stay hopeful for possibilities.

The first two seem to contradict each other at the first glance, but when you realize the first - ganbaranai - is about accepting your current situation and not trying to change it too hard or too quickly, it makes sense. You would still live mindfully and do what you can.

I have been saying "ganbarimasu!" (I will try really hard!) a lot. Just like my favorite subject of mathematics (although there are in fact many paths to the same solution in that subject as well), I've been approaching my health situation in a very linear fashion - expecting certain results from certain actions. (If I do this, this will affect this, and thus will result in this.)

The fact I'm impatient contributed to this. When I didn't see expected results I became indignant, and said I would more ganbaru (try harder). Probably that stressed me out - both mind and body. Human body is very complicated, and there are a lot of things we don't know on this day. There are a ton of possibilities, but I tended to simplify for my sanity.

I used to explain to people from Japan that Japanese American people (especially issei & nisei, or the first and second generations) often carry on more Japanese virtues than the Japanese today, because their virtues are of the Japan captured at the time of their immigration. Now that I think about it, I have become that: someone who carried on the same kind of mentality people had in Japan from the 70s to 90s (although I have far fewer virtues than those who migrated before me).

Japan was experiencing a great economic growth at that time, and as a result, the mentality was that the harder you tried, you would be rewarded. To "ganbaru" was a huge virtue. After the 90s, when the economy collapsed, it became less emphasized as apathy prevailed for a while. To add to my frozen enthusiasm, I was things like the team captain, class president, etc., etc. - I was the person giving pep talks. Now I have to down-pep-talk myself (ah, the irony).

I laughed at myself when I started finishing this post with something like "I will try harder not to try too hard." (Deep breath) I will relax. I will enjoy a different, perhaps windy path. I will be mindful of accepting the current situation. I will accept that perhaps like sorrow, some things just take time to heal.

-A

P.S. I'm grateful that I'm able to ponder such things because of all the support I have from Daniel, my family, Daniel's family, and our friends. I'm sure there are people who come down with a health problem under a much dire, isolated situation, who can't even stop to think. I am blessed. To all of you who are propping me up, thank you.