In January, I wrote a blog post about the word I had chosen to guide me in goal-setting for the year. The word I chose is “persist.” I chose it in part because I liked the story of Elizabeth Warren in Congress being told to stop talking and refusing to do so. Speaking of the incident, Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell said, “Senator Warren was giving a lengthy speech. . . She was warned. She was given an explanation. Nevertheless, she persisted.” Politics aside, I was inspired by that statement— “nevertheless, she persisted”—and I decided that I wanted my word for 2018 to be “persist.” I wanted my story for this year to be that of persistence in meeting my goals—no matter what obstacles were in my way. I wanted to persist nevertheless.
I also chose that word because of its etymology. Persist comes from the Latin word persistere. “Per” means “through,” and “sist” means “stand.” So to persist is literally to stand through—to be resolute through whatever comes. For me, “through” is the hard part of that definition. I would much rather not go through; I’d rather go around or climb over the hard parts of life. I remember when I was in drug withdrawal, and I was so sick that I truly thought I was dying. When I told an ER doctor how awful I felt and begged him for something—anything—to help me, he said, “I’m sorry. The only way out is through.” Those are horrible words to hear when you’re as desperate as I was. But he was right—I had to go through the eye of the withdrawal storm before I could begin to heal. If there had been a shortcut, I probably wouldn’t have stayed clean and sober—having had to go through six months of withdrawal made me terrified to go back to drugs and alcohol. So even though I didn’t want to at the time, I persisted. I stood through and made it to the other side, nevertheless.
How am I doing with persisting in 2018? Some days, I stand strong and make it through whatever “nevertheless” comes my way. Other days, it’s a losing battle from the time I open my eyes to the time when I lay my head back on my pillow. On those days, I need inspiration—something to remind me of the importance of persisting no matter how hard it seems. This month, I found inspiration in the stories of Helen Keller and Anne Sullivan—two women who “stood through,” nevertheless.
Their story begins with Anne, born in 1866. By the age of five, Anne had lost almost all of her vision. When she was eight, her mother died, and her father, convinced he couldn’t care for Anne and her brother by himself, left them at an orphanage. Her brother died months later, leaving Anne completely alone in the world—nearly blind and unable to read or write. After a few years at the orphanage, Anne convinced one of its inspectors to help her enroll in the Perkins School for the Blind. Anne devoted herself to her education and graduated at age twenty. The summer after her graduation, she met Arthur Keller, a man desperate for someone to help his seven-year-old daughter, Helen.
Helen, born in 1880, lost her hearing and eyesight at nineteen months old. Trapped in a world of darkness and silence and unable to communicate even her most basic needs to anyone, Helen was angry and willful, throwing constant tantrums. When her father brought Anne to Helen, Anne spent a few weeks in the guest cottage with Helen, gaining her trust. Helen learned quickly to form letters in Anne’s palm, but Helen had no comprehension of the words she was spelling; she was simply imitating Anne. Anne and Helen were both becoming frustrated—Anne at her inability to break through to Helen, and Helen at her inability to understand Anne. One day, Anne thought of a possible new way to teach Helen. She took Helen out to the water pump and let the water pour over Helen’s hand. Anne wrote about the incident in a letter to a friend:
Helen (left) with Anne
As the cold water gushed forth, I spelled “w-a-t-e-r” in Helen’s free hand. The word coming so close upon the sensation of cold water rushing over her hand seemed to startle her. She stood as one transfixed. A new light came into her face. She spelled “water” several times. Then she dropped on the ground and asked for its name and pointed to the pump and the trellis, and suddenly turning round she asked for my name. I spelled “Teacher.” Just then the nurse brought Helen’s little sister into the pump-house, and Helen spelled “baby” and pointed to the nurse. All the way back to the house she was highly excited, and learned the name of every object she touched, so that in a few hours she had added thirty new words to her vocabulary.
From that day on, Anne couldn’t teach Helen fast enough. Helen had finally discovered a way out of her prison, and she wanted to learn as much as she could about the world she’d been missing. Under Anne’s tutelage, she learned to speak in a limited way and caught up on her education. She eventually graduated from Radcliffe—the first deaf, blind student to earn a Bachelor of Arts degree. Helen became a writer and a political and social activist. Her main cause was the plight of others who were differently abled, like her. She worked to create more schools for the blind. She also lobbied for rehabilitation centers for war veterans and fought tirelessly to ensure that education was made accessible to the blind and deaf. Throughout Helen’s career, Anne remained at her side as an assistant and companion. Towards the end of her life, Anne went completely blind and relied on Helen as much as Helen had once relied on her. Anne had a stroke at the age of seventy and died, with Helen holding her hand.
Helen (left) with Anne
Imagine the world Helen lived in for the first seven years of her life—absolute silence and darkness. Imagine the terror of not being able to hear or see anything and the frustration of not being able to communicate with anyone. Then imagine how Anne felt, at just twenty years old, when she was tasked with teaching this angry, scared child. Overwhelming though it was, Anne persisted in her task, providing the prison break Helen needed so desperately. Helen persisted in her own education, giving herself a nearly limitless future. Anne and Helen “stood through,” though they had to fight discouragement, prejudice, and countless other obstacles.
If they could, why can’t I? I have my own set of obstacles, but they’re not even close to what Anne and Helen faced throughout their lives. I can imagine them saying to me, “You have ears that can hear and eyes that can see. Why are you sitting around complaining? Get up. Stand up. And stand through.” I have almost nine months left of 2018. If I persist through all of the “nevertheless-es” that I know I’ll encounter, I’ll be a much better, much different person at the end of that time. I know it—because I’ve learned from personal experience that every time I choose to stand through, I get a little bit stronger and a lot more confident in my future capabilities. Today, I’m more determined than ever to persist. Helen did. Anne did. I will, too. I will stand up and stand through—nevertheless.
“Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved.”Helen Keller
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I love You and I am so proud of you for of all of the persisting that you do. You are amazing and inspiring, sister dear.
Sweet HRH–thank you so very much. I’m trying. And I love you, too.
I love this blog and how you used the Helen Keller and Anne Sullivan’s story of learning together to illustrate how one can persist through some incredibly complicated circumstances. One does learn to persist “through” although it takes courage and determination to keep stepping forward against all odds.
Early in you blog you mentioned how you would have loved to climb over it or go around it and that you were told to go “through” it. I learned just the opposite at one point by a respected counselor.
I sought counseling years ago to find a way to get “through” to my mother, for me to understand her and for her to accept me? The counselor used a mental picture to show what had happened to me. He asked me what my favourite car was and I replied a dark green Mercedes with wood paneling on the dashboard. He then asked me about my favourite road ( a winding highway into the mountains). He then proceeded to illustrate my state? Me being the beautiful old Mercedes travelling up that winding road and coming upon a huge boulder in the middle of the road and me trying on a consistent basis to get through that boulder with the result that my body ( the car) w as totally smashed, dented, almost a total loss and still trying to get through that boulder at all cost. He explained that the boulder would never move and never change and that my only option was to go around that boulder so I would not become more damaged then I had already been. It was one of the toughest lessons to learn because of my stubbornness for recognition, for wanting and needing to continuously confront my mother and wanting what I needed from her in my mind. Yet I did learn, it was painful, but I learned to still go to Holland each year and visit her each day when there, yet mindful to keep it short when the battle came to the foreground once more and to simply remove myself from the situation even as I wanted to shout from the rooftops? I went around that boulder time and time again in order to survive even as I loved that boulder so much. The visits were only at her given times for me, on her terms and as she decided. That meant moving each day to her suitability and most days it meant I could not do anything else because of the time I could see her? This went on for as long as she lived.
The counselor helped me see that to try and move that boulder or change it would have killed it and for me to survive with the boulder there I must learn to gently go around it and not disturb it.
It was my way to get “through” life as she was, the mother I loved!
Oh, Klara, what a lovely contribution to my post. I love the illustration your counselor used with the Mercedes and the boulder. And in the instance with a difficult person, I see how standing through wouldn’t be possible–not only impossible but a waste of time as well as a way to kill your spirit. I’m glad for you that you learned how to have a relationship with your mother, difficult though it was. You certainly are a compassionate, resilient person–and one I’m so grateful to call my friend.
Renee, Another thought provoking, well written Blog. The struggles you have encountered, your persistence, in my eyes are remarkable. I saw “The Miracle Worker when it premiered in the Movie Theaters. Not only exceptionally brilliant acting, by Anne Bancroft and Patty Duke, the storyline was amazing. For me, unimaginable , the efforts of Anne Sullivan, and Helen Keller. I can’t even come close to imagining the efforts of them both. Finally, they say nothing worth a darn, in life comes easy. Renee, you are not only m6 good friend, but You are a Warrior, in your daily battle. Each, I reflect on your struggles, equate them with mine, and I “push on” towards my goals for each day. Thank you again, Renee. Kudos .
Hal, I haven’t seen “The Miracle Worker”–our class read through the play in high school. But I’d love to watch it. You’re very right, Hal, that “nothing worth a darn in life comes easy.” So true! I think all of us are warriors fighting battles that make us persist and stand through. Thank you for reading my words, Hal, and adding insight.
Wow! I wasn’t that familiar with Helen Keller’s story. She did persist! Another great blog…with the exception of the politics.
I, too, wasn’t aware of the details of her story–especially that her teacher, Anne, also suffered from partial then complete blindness. You’re right–that’s persistence! Thank you for reading my blog, my dear Aunt.
I couldn’t possibly equate or understand that level of imprisonment! I’ve had some addition prisons in my life but I found most were created in my mind. There is a theory in psychological circles called the bicameral mind. It is well illustrated in the HBO series West World. Simply stated what one hears and processes through one hemisphere of the brain is learned by the other active part that imitates the other. In other words if you or someone else reiterates thoughts or ideas and you hear them enough you act them out.
Leasoned learned don’t speak negative about yourself or listen to others who do. You are designed to react by what you hear repeatedly!
Hi, Steve. I agree with you–that kind of imprisonment is just truly impossible to imagine. The bicameral mind theory is so interesting, especially regarding the things we say about ourselves. “You are designed to react by what you hear repeatedly”–well stated and so very true. Thank you for your insight yet again, Steve. I so appreciate it.