The Power of One Kind Word

One thing has surprised me during this journey.

I’ve never asked people to comment on my blogs. At least, not that I can remember (other than on specific points re PSP). I’ve never written with the expectation of encouragement. I write because writing helps me make sense of what is happening, and because if something I learn helps one other person facing Progressive Supranuclear Palsy, then it has been worth putting it into words.

Yet every so often an email, WhatsApp, Social Media message or comment or blog reply arrives completely out of the blue.

Today was one of those days.

Someone wrote to me, someone I’ve never met, someone I don’t know, someone who said something along the lines of:

“I’m following your journey, reading your blog, and I’m thinking of you. I’m praying for your outcome and I hope that your future is better than you possibly dream it to be.”

I sat for a moment after reading it.

The truth is that I have probably underestimated the power of an unsolicited kind word. He had no need to send it. He had no reason to write other than simple kindness.

Living with a progressive neurological disease can become very inward-looking. There are constant changes, frustrations and fears. As the journey becomes more difficult, it has inevitably become quieter too. That isn’t a criticism. Life moves on, people have their own burdens to carry, and serious illness can simply be hard to look at for too long. Which is why an unexpected message from someone who has quietly been reading, quietly caring and quietly praying means far more than they could possibly imagine.

It matters more than they probably realise.

I’m not asking for comments or feedback. That isn’t why I write, and it never will be.

But I do want to say thank you.

Thank you to everyone who has taken a few moments to send me a personal message by whatever means to show they are with me – it does matter.

Thank you to my friends and family who are hanging in with me, who check in on me regularly, and who somehow always seem to know when I need a little encouragement, despite the progression and, more than occasionally, the darkness from my side.

None of those messages changes my diagnosis.

None of them removes the pain or the uncertainty.

But they do something else.

They remind me that this journey isn’t being walked alone.

They give me just a little more determination to keep writing, to keep learning, to keep sharing, and to keep finding purpose in circumstances I would never have chosen.

Perhaps that is the real power of one kind word.

It rarely changes someone’s circumstances.

Sometimes it changes their strength to face them.

Thank you.