Let’s face it: struggling with an invisible disease like Epstein-Barr and Chronic Fatigue can make you feel “Less Than”.
Less Than Normal.
Less Than Worthwhile.
Less Than Zero.
In fact, most people who believe in metaphysics (the idea that your inner thoughts create your outer circumstances) call this the “Disease of Low-Self Esteem.”
They may have a point. I know that every day I have a flare-up, I struggle with the guilt of not being “like other mothers” of four-year-old sons; parking us in front of Playhouse Disney on a sunny day instead of running
around the park; microwaving day-glow orange pasta on a rainy night when every fiber of my love-to-cook being wants him to have fond memories of my homemade mac n’ cheese when he grows up. I have always had this insane drive to be “The Best” at everything I did: the Best Writer, or the Best Decorated House at the Holidays. I hated falling short of other people’s expectations (“It’s noon and you aren’t dressed yet?”, “You’re calling out of work AGAIN?”). But you know what? Even when I was “healthy”, I was miserable!

I never understood that I didn’t have to be “The Best” to enjoy my life or to feel good about myself. Not to mention that this nutty standard of perfection was impossible, no matter what my health status was. In a way, my disease has taught me a better way of life. I am overcoming my negativity. I have changed not only my way of thinking about my physical condition, but my whole outlook on life. Ah, yes…I have learned to appreciate Ringo Starr.
OK, laugh, if you will. He has been the butt of many jokes. Until recently, I was never a big fan of his; but have you ever noticed how happy, how content he seems? “Sure,” you say, “I would be too if I were rich and famous!” Well, so is Britney Spears, but doesn’t she look miserable?
I find that his attitude toward the circumstances in his life is extremely helpful in accepting my own. Ringo is no stranger to debilitating disease. As a child, he suffered many ailments. His hospitalizations included an appendicitis-caused coma and a cold-turned-pleurisy. Falling behind the other kids with constant, prolonged hospital visits, he left school at the age of 13. He continues to suffer from various allergies and food sensitivities. He is also a recovering alcoholic- a horrible, compulsive disease that destroys the body as well as the mind and spirit. Yet, by his accomplishments, it’s obvious he didn’t shut down and give up on life.
So he may not be the best drummer ever, but he was a Beatle for crying out loud! Yes, he wasn’t a part of the legendary Lennon/McCartney songwriting duo, but I’ll bet you can still sing all the lyrics to “An Octopus’s Garden.”
He also stages regular “All-Star Band” shows, at the age of 67. How many people are fortunate enough to have created a life in which they play with classic rock greats like Billy Preston, Joe Walsh, Peter Frampton, or the
late John Entwhistle? And, despite the slim odds of success in star marriages, he’s been happily wedded to Barbara Bach for the past 26 years. It’s more than one can say for most ordinary people, let alone most celebrities.
“Ultimately what’s most impressive about Ringo Starr isn’t what he’s been, but rather who he is,” wrote Rolling Stone rock critic David Wild. My husband has always believed that Ringo was the happiest of the Beatles, and
will outlive them all. In every interview I’ve seen or read with him, he is laughing or joking, never taking himself seriously, but fully enjoying himself. He once told SignOnSanDiego.com,” You know, I fully understand that
God has some purpose for me,” he said. “And I don’t know quite what it is yet, but I’m still here and open to His suggestions.” It doesn’t seem to matter that he isn’t “The Best”; he doesn’t even try to be. His is simply his own best and that is enough.
Ringo has become my mentor for making much more out of my life than I ever thought possible. I’ve stopped comparing myself to others, and am starting to realize that on my good days I am great, and on my bad days I am an
amazing hero for just getting dressed (at whatever hour that happens to be.) My son may not remember the microwave meals or all the places we didn’t go, but I’m sure he will recall fond memories of eating together as a family, cuddling with him in front of the TV, and singing to him at bedtime. It is enough.
You know, I think this Christmas I will be “The Best”, most originally decorated house on the block, after all. And it will take me only five minutes to set up…I don’t know-do you think a fiber-optic Christmas wreath that flashes, “RINGO ROCKS!” is too tacky?
Essay written by: Lisa Howard-Fusco, Butyoudontlooksick.com, © 2007