I’m Pam. I’m a professor of English, the mother of two adult kids, and partner to the finest human being I’ve ever known. I’m also a published novelist and freelance writer: my work has appeared in The Huffington Post, Scary Mommy, and The Chronicle of Higher Education, among other places. I’m a conflicted traveler, a vocal advocate for women, and a pretty good cook. And, since 2018, I’m also a care partner for my husband Mike, who was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease at age 54.
What do you mean by She Dwells in Possibility?
My mom had a favorite saying: anytime something went wrong, she’d tell me “Well, you can’t dwell on it.” She said this to me more times than I can count. She said this to my sister, her friends, even to herself. She said it more and more often after my dad passed away in 2011.
On the one hand, this is really good advice: if you focus on the bad stuff, you’re going to miss out on many chances to be happy. But on the other hand, it’s sometimes helpful to dwell. When you’re dealing with a setback, taking some time to think things over–dwelling productively–can help you figure out what you need to do the next time you take a shot at your goals. If you don’t take the time to work through that process, you’re likely to face the same disappointing outcome over and over again.
In addition to that productive kind of dwelling, though, I’m a firm believer that it’s always good to consider new possibilities. Explore new hobbies. Follow a new career path. Take a trip. Write a book. Try the things you’ve always wanted to try, but never have,. Or plan for the changes you want to make, if you’re not ready to make them yet.
Then take one small step. And then another.
Exploring new possibilities doesn’t mean moving forward without fear–sometimes, it means knowing exactly what scares you and doing it anyway. When Mike was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease , we spent a few weeks completely paralyzed fear of the future. But we quickly decided that it was pointless to worry about worst case scenarios–that would only serve to rob us of the time we could be enjoying together. So, we resolved to deal with new symptoms as they arise and adapt when necessary. That’s really the only way to deal with a chronic, progressive illness: one day at a time. (Or, as it often seems, one doctor at a time.)
Taking charge of the situation–even one as scary as this–is the only way I know how to operate. But I’m learning that we can’t take charge of a future situation, much as we might like to. And the only other choice is to dwell in the possibilities of the present.
I started this blog to honor the memory of my mom, who passed away in 2015. She devoted far too much of her life to worrying about what was going to happen next, and that worry kept her from trying a lot of things I think she would have enjoyed. So my mission is to use this space to encourage people to enjoy the moment without allowing worry to steal it away. Much of the content on this blog is specific to the challenges of living with or caring for a Parkinson’s patient, since that focus now requires a good share of my attention. But a lot of the content here is just about being open to all the possibilities life presents.
This blog takes its name from the American poet Emily Dickinson, who first wrote the words I dwell in possibility. I’m just trying follow her lead. I hope you will, too.