Fate — of fortune and misfortune

In sport, win­ning and losing are known to be so clo­se, and yet the­re is a clear distinc­tion. The blink of an eye can deci­de whe­ther I lea­ve the com­pe­ti­ti­on venue as a radi­ant win­ner or a dis­ap­poin­ted loser. I prepa­re mys­elf for many things and hold fate lar­ge­ly in my own hands. But many unfo­re­seen events can also hap­pen. Luck and mis­for­tu­ne are very clo­se. One small mista­ke, one lap­se of atten­ti­on and I can fail in my attempt. From the moment of tri­umph full of bliss, to bit­ter dis­ap­point­ment and on to almost unbe­ara­ble tra­ge­dy, sport offers us the who­le ran­ge of emo­ti­ons. We obser­ve how sports­peo­p­le accept their fate and mas­ter the chal­lenges, and we fol­low them through their ups and downs. They thus seem to reflect the chal­lenges and blows of fate that we all face in our lives, and bring us under their spell.

Just like sports­peo­p­le, peo­p­le with disa­bi­li­ties are often seen as ‘mas­ters of their fate’. For many, a disa­bi­li­ty, whe­ther it is from birth or cau­sed by some event, sug­gests some­thing bad, a tra­ge­dy, and always brings with it a cer­tain hea­vi­ness. For many it seems to be a hea­vy ‘stro­ke of fate’. But is it real­ly fate when mis­for­tu­ne strikes us, or may we tre­at chan­ce as wort­hy of deter­mi­ning our fate, as Sig­mund Freud once put it? Could it also be cal­led fateful chan­ce or chan­ce desti­ny? The­re is pro­ba­b­ly no clear ans­wer and it is left to the inter­pre­ta­ti­on of each indi­vi­du­al. No mat­ter what you call it, the­re are often seve­ral cir­cum­s­tances that come tog­e­ther and lead to a result. Cau­ses lead to an effect. Acci­dents are not ‘cau­sed’ for no reason. Objec­tively seen, the cau­sa­li­ties are some­ti­mes sho­ckin­gly simp­le. One wrong step, a mis­cal­cu­la­ti­on, a vit­amin defi­ci­en­cy at birth, and so on. Some­ti­mes fate (or chan­ce) chal­lenges us wit­hout our being able to con­scious­ly influence it, and some­ti­mes it is we who chall­enge fate. Alt­hough an acci­dent is usual­ly gover­ned by exter­nal influen­ces, it is often a human action that pre­ce­des it. This also appli­es to luck or for­tu­ne, which on the sca­le of fate is oppo­si­te to mis­for­tu­ne, for exam­p­le when I first think about fil­ling in the lot­tery ticket, befo­re I could even have a chan­ce, howe­ver small, of winning.

If we ‘cha­se’ good luck, things can usual­ly go well, but sud­den­ly for­tu­ne can ‘turn round’ to mis­for­tu­ne and show us quite a dif­fe­rent face.

Whe­ther we end up in a wheel­chair becau­se of a dar­ing act or becau­se of some other unfort­u­na­te cir­cum­s­tances, or from birth, the result is the same: it affects your who­le future life.

But of cour­se a cala­mi­ty does not always result in disa­bi­li­ty, and by its very natu­re it can affect any of us at any time and in any place in a varie­ty of ways, and lea­ve deep scars.

‘Hap­pi­ness often comes from atten­ti­on to small things, mis­for­tu­ne often from negle­c­ting litt­le things.’
Wil­helm Busch

The­re are many aspects to this, and the­re are many dif­fe­rent ways of deal­ing with such dif­fi­cult expe­ri­en­ces. I am not an expert on this sub­ject and for­t­u­na­te­ly I am not very expe­ri­en­ced in it. Nevert­hel­ess, it seems important to me that suf­fe­ring can be admit­ted to and given space. At such a time we need the sup­port of others more than ever. We need peo­p­le who lis­ten to us and share our pain with us. Suf­fe­ring, be it grief, pain or sor­row, can­not be remo­ved here. But space can be crea­ted for it whe­re it can be inte­gra­ted into life or eva­po­ra­te over time. I like the gra­phic idea that suf­fe­ring can dif­fu­se like a drop of ink in a ves­sel of water to the point whe­re it is still pre­sent but bare­ly visible.

We may be sur­pri­sed, too, by the com­pen­sa­ti­on effect known from empi­ri­cal rese­arch into hap­pi­ness, which is also known as hedo­nic adapt­a­ti­on. This refers to the fact that peo­p­le can adapt rela­tively quick­ly to new cir­cum­s­tances and tend to return to their ori­gi­nal level of hap­pi­ness after posi­ti­ve or nega­ti­ve events. This effect can mean, for exam­p­le, that even the fic­ti­tious lot­tery win men­tio­ned abo­ve does not per­ma­nent­ly increase the level of hap­pi­ness. The com­pen­sa­ti­on effect thus illus­tra­tes people’s abili­ty to adapt to chan­ging life cir­cum­s­tances, and the level­ling out of extre­me sta­tes of hap­pi­ness over time to arri­ve at a sta­ble sen­se of well-being. This has both its advan­ta­ges and dis­ad­van­ta­ges, but it can lend us some con­fi­dence, espe­ci­al­ly with regard to set­backs that may lie ahead. The theo­ry of post-trau­ma­tic growth goes one step fur­ther. Post-trau­ma­tic growth descri­bes the pos­si­bi­li­ty that after stressful expe­ri­en­ces peo­p­le not only expe­ri­ence psy­cho­lo­gi­cal and social reco­very, but also per­so­nal growth. It empha­si­s­es in par­ti­cu­lar the poten­ti­al increase in strength, a heigh­ten­ed app­re­cia­ti­on of life, more inten­se per­so­nal rela­ti­onships and a new under­stan­ding of one’s own abili­ties. This theo­ry, which reminds me very much of super­com­pen­sa­ti­on in sport, under­lines the fact that not only can we return to a cer­tain level of hap­pi­ness after trau­ma­tic expe­ri­en­ces, but we can also estab­lish posi­ti­ve chan­ges that increase our indi­vi­du­al well-being in the long term.

But with all the­se uplif­ting theo­ries, I don’t want to gloss over the fact that a blow of fate can be so seve­re that peo­p­le are brought to their kne­es for a long time and their pain doesn’t ‘dif­fu­se’ so quick­ly and it hard­ly seems pos­si­ble for them to pick them­sel­ves up again. We all car­ry our ima­gi­na­ry ‘ruck­sack’, some are big­ger and hea­vier, others are smal­ler and ligh­ter. Many car­ry a bur­den with them that they could cast down, while other bur­dens weigh more hea­vi­ly — for a lifetime.

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