At my three month follow-up appointment with Dr. Griffin at the rheumatology clinic, he listened with his full attention as I reported my progress. I felt like a functional human again. I felt like a mother capable of caring for my babies who would soon be six years old and one year old. I had started helping out with my daughter’s Daisy Girl Scout Troop and could actually squat to pick up runaway animal crackers during snack time. I could stand at the sink to wash a few dishes, and I was writing the occasional poem for the Writer’s Digest poem-a-day challenge during National Poetry Month.

I was doing okay.

Okay was leaps better than where I was during my initial visit. Then Dr. Griffin looked me in the eyes, and he set in motion a question that my subconscious continues to evaluate: “Is okay enough?”

I was so grateful to be feeling okay, and it felt foolish to entertain a desire for more. Inflammation still impaired my physical function. Fatigue still took me out of commission at some point everyday. Anxiety and depression still dictated my relationships with the world. 

From a rheumatological view, I was not okay. My immune system was still out of balance, and I still registered with moderate to severe active disease. Remission seemed impossible. Yet, here I am 12 years later and live most days without any notice of active rheumatoid arthritis. Although, it has been a long 12 years with many tried and failed treatment plans and revisions. 

I did know that okay was not enough, and with the loving support of my partner, I was eventually able to accept that I wanted Tony-the-Tigerr-GRRReat! Pete was my “believing mirror,” as Julia Cameron might define, who believed in me and my worthiness even when I couldn’t. Okay was not enough; I want to access every ounce of good my life will offer. We committed to leveling up our game to make it so.

Dr. Griffin and that question was critical point in the game, and this past week he announced his retirement from his practice through a form letter in the mail. I was his patient for a full decade, nearly half of the time he vested in that practice. The letter was brief and formal, but anyone who had the pleasure of receiving his care will hear the hushed tenderness he buried between the lines indicating that okay is not enough. For him, leveling up his game means more time with his family. 

Now is always a good time to pause and check in with yourself:

How am I feeling overall right now? What is my level of satisfaction (overall or in a particular area of life)? Is that enough? What is one tiny shift I can make to feel a little bit better in these times?

The Bengsons offer a fun look into how things are and how they might be and how to keep going.

I’d love to hear where this lands for you. What might you lose if you shift towards a fuller expression of yourself? What might you gain? Drop a line in the comments, send me a private email or book a curiosity call if it feels right.