Realizations and adjustments

In a couple days it will have been five months since my diagnosis. A whirlwind of events and emotions, visitations and correspondence has stigmatized my way of life. I, who have, since I was very young, been in charge of virtually everything, am now finding myself bombadiering from week to week, looking for that elusive control I executed in a previous existence. I say stigmatize because my past life's destinations and accomplishments, decisions and failures were of my design. I ran the show. With work, with family, with finances- with all- I was indestructible. I suppose we all get our comeuppance. Mine appears to be ALS. I'm beginning to realize, resisting all the way, that my former resolutions no longer work for me, and that if I continue to re-enlist my control reality, ALS will beat me down and sweep me out the door. If I don't release- and that's not to pay lip service, but to embrace- my instincts to control, I will have no choice but to sleep forever in the bed of my making. I need to trust. I need to evolve mentally in order to accept change in my life. So far, the cracks in my psyche are small and my mind refuses to adapt, but inroads are being forged and little by little I am absorbing the outside influence necessary to turn around on this highway to hell. Strangely, the harder I try to facilitate the change, the more resistant I am to do so. I work at and I work at it and I work at it and I now understand that this is my un-doing. Throughout my life I always pushed and look where it's got me- I need to work at not working at it. I need to release the tension and make a u-turn. Tough for me, because I've always met my problems head on with battle in mind. It's a hard concept for me to simply turn around on them and bear them no credence.
I am having physical difficulties and they are manifesting themselves incrementally throughout my body. I can no longer write with my left hand without much difficulty and my left arm is weak enough that instinct tells me if I fall to my left, I'm going down without a hand out to break the fall. My shoulder can take the impact, my arm cannot. My right hand and arm are now the Alpha, and while I do have fasciculations there, they have yet to manifest in weakness or lack of dexterity. My legs are, however, feeling the change. My right leg is the stronger of the two. My left is relatively pathetic. I limp off of the left not because of pain or discomfort, but because my joints and muscles react in poor timing. On stairs, my knees, both of them, bounce and vibrate, wiggle and shake at each step. I can manage all of this as long as I move a little more slowly and carefully. I don't find myself particularly fatigued with this extra effort, though I haven't really put it to the test yet. Two days at Disney World should act as a good barometer of my capabilities and an assessment as to how I'll hold up in New Zealand later in September. My speech seems to be maintaining its typical "low talker" status, though I feel I could be developing some slur from what they call "lazy tongue". All the more important I continue to communicate from this electronic pulpit.
So far, I see no need for help devices such as cane or walker, wheelchair or voice box. I need to stymie the progress of ALS as best I can and accept help and support without resistance or embarrassment. Don't feel sorry for me. I cannot get better on the back of pity. Simply accept that it sucks to be me and go on. Only positive thoughts. In conclusion, let it be known I believe that which is put in ones' head remains there forever, and in knowing this, I curse the professionals who told me last spring there was no cure. I continue to beat that thought into oblivion. Unfortunately, oblivion is still in my head.