learn from the animals

To say that life has been stressful lately is an understatement. We're in a war against Iran. We're lead by an insane, murdering nazi, prices for everything have gone beyond sky high. Now we're in the stratosphere. From food to gas, most people are struggling. Women and LGBT people are actively being targeted, assassinated and having their rights taken.  

I feel angry, fearful, panicked and heart sick. 

But I can't feel that way all the time. Like the bombed Lebanese smoking a hookah amongst the ruins of what used to be their home. Or the teacher playing music inside the remains of a destroyed school. Art, music, laughter and love will always drown out the hatred of evil.

So I have been...

Making art. Making time for friends. Taking care of my body. Keeping up with my medical appointments. Loving on my puppies and trying to help people I love not feel overwhelmed.

My son is constantly stressed to the max. I think COVID really broke him. Now he shuts everything down with a "no." He struggled emotionally before all of this happened, but it has really become worse. His anxiety and depression don't seem to be at all touched by his medication anymore. 

After a recent breakup (where she broke his heart.) I took him to a town close to us for a break. I found this beautiful park with a massive pond and we just sat there and watched.

 
As I soaked in the beauty of the spot I could feel my shoulders soften from up around my ears. The tightness in my chest relax like a rope being untied. My breathing become deeper and more fulfilling. Changes that I wasn't even aware I needed.

Nature is a tonic for these times. And I need to remember that. Hug a tree. Swim in a lake. Look at birds. Go slow with my dogs. Nature is the best teacher of all. She can be vicious. But there is also a lot of love. She is slow moving. Slow growing. She takes her time when she's healing. 

The animals teach us as well. They too go slow. Enjoy the little things (like eating the same food for breakfast AND dinner.) Make time for play. Show each other new things. The old teaching the young.

Spending time in my garden has also been helpful. I think of it as an "earth detox." Where I just pour out all my stress and worries into the soil where it is composted like dead leaves. 

I realize I'm very privileged. I can afford the things I need. I don't live in a country that's being constantly bombed. The people I love are still alive and well. I'm not rotting in an ICE detention center. I'm in a healthy, loving relationship. I have a lot of resources and options. I'm a rare minority in the world.

I can hold both things. Both can be true. I can be sensitive and aware of the horrors of our time. While also healing myself in art, nature and love. I can take care of myself with food and movement and also be aware of my tremendous privilege. I can morn the lost rights of women, the disabled and people of color, while also laughing with my friends. 

It's not easy and it comes with practice. I think my background as a therapist is hugely helpful. But every day I try. Luckily I have my two beautiful puppies to lead the way. 

 

Where's My Instruction Manual?

I wish I had an instruction manual that came with my illness. "When you start to feel so dizzy you might pass out, don't panic! It's just a migraine. Go to bed and it will pass." That kind of thing. Instead I feel like each thing my body does is new and scary and I have no idea what to expect from one moment to the next. Which in turn makes it incredibly challenging to plan my future.

Maybe the manual would say "In 5-8 years you will no longer be able to care for yourself, so prepare in advance for that mentally and financially." Or "In two years you will need assistance to bathe." That way I could plan for an ADA bathroom remodel.

Or how about "In 2 years you will require a feeding tube." So I would know to really enjoy every bit of food now. Or even "By fall 2020 your condition will be stable, expect no further deterioration of muscle use."

I wish the manual would have told me that I would only have my dream job for one year before my symptoms became too much for me to work. I also wish I would have known that I wouldn't qualify for any kind of financial help from the government because I'm married to a person with a good job. "You will be financially dependent on others due to your illness..." I wish I could have prepared for that.

The hardest thing about my chronic illness is having no idea what's around each corner. Or how long I'm doing something maybe for the last time.

This weekend I tried to change our porch light myself. Something I've done many times over in the past and I just couldn't. I asked my husband for help and of course he sweetly came out and did it. But trying and then not being able to do it was very upsetting to me. I think not knowing that something is the last time I am going to be able to do it makes the first time I can't that much harder. 

But life is just that way. For all of us. Nothing is permanent and the whole concept of permanence is an illusion. None of us ever really knows the last time we will do anything. 

That's also what makes life sweet. I must relish each moment as I'm in it rather than rush from one thing to the next. Savor each meal, each kiss, each time I can shower independently. Because I don't have a manual. I'm blindly stumbling through life just doing my best.

I can't tell!!!

One of the hardest things for me about having a chronic, progressive condition is the lack of stability and predictability. I honestly can't tell what I'll be able to do from one day to the next. I know I'm far from alone with that feeling of instability. But that's no consolation.

Sometimes I feel like I honestly can't walk at all. Sometimes I feel ok to garden for an hour (though I always pay for it later). Sometimes I think it's only a matter of time before I'm hooked up to a ventilator. Other times I feel my body has really stabilized. The constant uncertainty is stressful and hard on not just me. 

My family can only go by what they see and what I tell them. Of course I don't give them a constant play by play of my body. "Now I have a cramp in my left calf, now my lower back is spasming, now my right eye is twitching..." They aren't me so they can't possibly know. Or as much as they try, understand. It's terrifying. I feel a constant undercurrent of panic no matter how mindful I try to be. "Is this the last day I can walk? Is this the last time I'll be able to do this?" These are things I think about daily. 

If even I can't tell what's going on in my body from one day to the next how could my family? If I don't know what I need or what's helpful, how could they? I do know that it helps me to talk and share the important things going on with me. Including my fears.

I'm very lucky in that when I share with my family, they take it seriously. I still remember talking to my husband about needing a rollator. It was a very hard conversation, but needed. I ALWAYS feel heard, respected and helped by my entire family. Which when I can't tell what's going on with my body is just what I need. 

I've learned what doesn't work for me is pushing myself too hard just in case I won't be able to do something in the future. It's what I have a tendency to do and my body doesn't thank me for it. I need to take it slow and cross each bridge as I come to them.