A Winter's Night

I knew the storm was coming. Not for the usual reason - my body going into a sure, slow nosedive - though there was a bit of that sensation as well. This time, husband informed me before it arrived, as we discussed the weather in Salt Lake City vs. Laguna, California, where I had just been vacationing with my youngest son.

I had been out running errands and to the gym. I knew as the flakes continued falling that all I would be getting at Costco was gas. Time to head home before the storm, before the traffic, before dinner time.

No one is home as I slide open our back door. My body relaxes. I don't know why I love coming home to an empty house. Maybe it has something to do with so many years of a full house and feeling overly responsible for everything and everyone in it. Don't get me wrong, I loved hearing the sounds of children as mine were growing up. I realize in hindsight that I didn't have to make or take things as seriously as I did. But anyhow, I appreciate this season in my life where the demands have relaxed, at least for now. And I'll take responsibility for that frame of mind, as well ;-).

Hmmm, what to do first. Laundry, that is always good to start with. Love the smell of the fabric softener (lavender), and I take an extra whiff as I pour it into the dispenser. Then, the feel of warm towels fresh from the dryer. I fold them happily as I chat on the phone with darling daughter for a few.

What next? Not sure what time the hubs will be home, so I decide to straighten up a few hot spots. Christmas cards? Removed and recycled. I decide to save a few with pics of my extended family, family I am lucky to see every 3-4 years. I tape these cards to the fridge. I save one from a friend - a new friend, one I have made this year. The handwritten note on the back makes me smile. I decide to use it as a bookmark. Incoming mail? My, when did that basket get so full?! Okay, we'll deal with that a little at a time. No need to knock myself out here. Cleaning house should feel, well ... cleansing! And it does.

Though the Christmas cards are purged, I decide to leave up our Christmas wreath which hangs above our front hall table. It's probably a fire hazard by now, but as it is nowhere near a fireplace or heat source, I decide to spare it's life for a few more days.

I light a candle and fix myself some hot cocoa. The candle is one I received for Christmas, rosemary eucalyptus scent. It reminds me of the pleasant afternoon darling son and I spent just a few weeks ago, picking out a candle for his girlfriend's Christmas present. He liked this same scent, but chose a more expensive one for his gal. Darling husband went back that afternoon, just before Christmas Eve, and bought me this one. It's fragrance dovetails nicely with the lavender.

What else might I do so the home will seem more pleasant before darling husband gets home from work? Dinner for him is taken care of. I notice the piles on the living room coffee table. I'll get to that. First, to continue with the fragrant adventures. I decide to sweep and mop the kitchen floor. Rosemary scented cleaner for that job. It has a bit of bite to it that tickles the senses but doesn't overwhelm. The chore is done in about five minutes or so. I even take the time to scrub a few stubborn spots.

I continue with taking out the recycling. The trash and recycling cans are on the other side of the carport of the rental we currently live in, so I have to go outside and walk up the drive to do this. I slide open the door, and fresh, cold, clean air flushes my cheeks. Drifts of freshly fallen snow, soft and deep, surround our patio. I am surprised and delighted by the sensation of newness that accompanies the falling snowflakes.

Wonder presents itself. It's a pleasant feeling.

Careful of my inherently weak joints, I set down the two bags of paper to be recycled and begin shoveling a very narrow path to the drive. Only eight feet or so long. I try not to injure myself - I rarely know for sure in the moment if I am doing so with tasks like this, so I tend to leave them to someone else - but I am careful and think I am okay.

My, but the snow and air and night sky are beautiful. I can see the city lights below to one side, softly lit, making them look further away than they are. Everything off in the valley seems ... surreal.

Everything close to me is soft and fresh at the same time.

I breathe in as I walk to and from the recycling bin. I marvel at the beauty around me. I carefully make my way back to the house. And I realize that in these simple things, there is great peace. God feels near.

New Year's Day Musings for 2013

It's that time. A time of reflection. A time of setting goals. New Year's Resolutions, we call them.

I like to think instead in terms of establishing habits. Not that I don't find goals extremely useful. But habits, to me, establish a way of being. I think these quotes will be far more eloquent than I could ever be in describing the process I mean:

1. Excellence is not a singular act, but a habit. You are what you repeatedly do. -Shaquille ONeal

2. First we make our habits, then our habits make us. -Charles C. Noble5.

3. We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit ... Quality is not an act, it is a habit. -Aristotle

4. Motivation is what gets you started. Habit is what keeps you going. -Jim Rohn

I like all of these quotes for different reasons. But at the heart of each is the symbiotic relationship between being and doing. What we do shapes us - our being - just as the desire to be something can shape our actions - the doing.

This past year, I had the opportunity to share a week with a dear, life-long friend. The kind of friend that during conversations the synapses in the brain can hardly keep up with the pace of the ideas. Well, he brought a wonderful notion to my attention. He said, "Ponder the sentence, 'I choose to be effective at (fill in the blank.)'" Wow. I was hooked.

Then he moved to the question of, IF I am effective at (fill in the blank), what is in the room with me?

Metaphorical to be sure, but then, that is how I roll much of the time. I wear my English minor proudly ;-). Basically, it means, how would I think, feel, and do?

I pondered these questions more deeply while flying home from that trip. It was nice to pull out my little purse-sized notebook and let the thoughts just come. I'd like to share a bit of what I wrote, by way of example, for how this process might look. If it sounds a bit, well, metaphorical. Or esoteric. I can be guilty of both.

Phase One: "I choose to be effective at ______." Hmmm, what did I wish to be effective at? What did I want more of in my life? To greet each day new, without being weighed down by the past, a lifetime of memories crowding in on me, threatening to intrude. To greet relationships in the same way.

I wanted to be more effective at staying in the moment. No, I wanted to be more effective at trusting the moment. Allowing time for feasting on each precious second, and allowing for play. Doing more with friends and family.

Being myself without judging myself. Trusting myself to know when judgment is necessary and useful.

"I choose to be effective at" acting in and from the repository of everyone's goodness, including my own. (Already I could see myself getting outside myself more with this one ...) I desired the freedom to speak my truth, speaking as I chose. Not being pulled back into a lifetime of ways of being that were less than effective. Less than effective than what? I wasn't sure. Remember, this was all stream of consciousness. The flow continued.

Not being less than. No one being less than.
Using my boldness to connect and uplift. No fear.

"I choose to be effective at" ... not caring what other people think.

Bam. That was it. That was the phrase I wanted to work with.

Phase Two: If I felt effective at not caring what other people thought of me, then what was in the room with me?

Laughter. Music. Silence.

Banter. Fewer boundaries, because I don't need them. (Oh, wow, that last one hit me like a ton of bricks. As a recovering codependent, I've been counseled the importance of boundaries. But somehow, these boundaries were of a different color.)

What else was in the room with me?

Me.
Enough.
Others doing. Me asking. Me listening.
Being okay with being separate from others, but still interactive.

Free gifts being given, such as spontaneity, hugs, touching. And on and on ...

So, I return to the beginning. This notion of ways of being and habits. I'd like to practice this habitual thought pattern, "I choose to be effective at (fill in the blank)." My guess is the 'fill in the blank' will change over time. I would expect it to, as one grows and needs change. That's okay.

But for January, I will choose something. It may be a way of being, a feeling, perhaps even desiring to be a certain way with a certain person. Going off of my last post, it could even be, "I choose to be effective at waking each day full of faith." I am not worried about how to accomplish the goal. Just having the thought will lead me to desired core feelings (Danielle LaPorte) and the actions necessary to get there. "What is in the room with me?" Ah, what feeling and actions today will demonstrate my faith in God, my faith in my fellow man, my faith in myself? Keep it simple. Remember habits of being need time. They are flexible. They are suited to the individual.

And they can change us. Ah, just think what an adventure that would be.

Faith, Part One

I woke, grateful for the sleep, but with the dull spike still lodged behind my right eye. I sought to remember .... ah yes - yesterday - the familiar malaise. And headache, coming on too late in the day to take anything for it, as the only ingredient that kicks them out is caffeine. Which just happens to be the same ingredient that keeps me awake for the following 14 hours, at least.

I rolled over, grateful for the new heating pad. Upcoming comfort! I turned it on, then continued to maneuver out of bed and downstairs to the generic migraine medication bottle. I knew this would do the trick, took two to be sure. Then back to my now warm bed to wait out the magic.

My mind wandered, to thoughts which came with surprising ease and I knew I wanted to keep. It's lovely, that time between sleeping and waking. Or I should say, between waking and getting up. So many years of 'Get up, get going.' No time to let my mind have a little play as I thoughtlessly peruse the beige ceiling! The re-wiring is taking time, but I am determined.

I purposely kept the recently revealed thoughts simple, so that I could retrieve them later. I dozed, satisfied.

It's good to know, "This, too, shall pass." I have learned that when my nervous system begs for its cocoon, to give it just that. I curl up with tea, and TV, and wait. Sometimes I have to wait quite awhile. Sometimes I catch it early enough that the day is not entirely lost. Most times, there is not much I can do. By the end of particularly bad days, I am ready to cry with the uselessness of myself, and sometimes, I do. "This, too, shall pass." Then a good day comes again, often several in a row if a storm system isn't coming on, or I haven't taken a tumble on the stairs and injured myself (again), or some family member doesn't need me for something. Just life, you know?

In an effort to feel more direction in my life, I recently began studying faith. Well, let me back up. I'm a Mormon, a Christian, and the first value I am studying as I go through our Young Women Personal Progress Program is faith.

The title page has the word 'faith' in beautiful script at the top, followed by a scripture and a very beautiful picture of the Savior. The scripture reads:

Faith is not to have a perfect knowledge of things; therefore if ye have faith ye hope for things which are not seen, which are true (Alma 32:21).

I ponder this scripture for a moment. My mind jumps to the question, what are the things I would hope for in my life that are not presently seen? (And which are true, which I take to mean in the realm of possibility and aligned with God's will).

There are the obvious things. To make more money so that I can help my kids with college and take them to see wonderful places in the world. I would also feel very happy to give more to charitable institutions. There are hopes and personal dreams I have of becoming that are too private to list here, at least, for the moment. I have hope of better health. I have hope of continued improvement in my relationships, not least of all my relationship with myself. I have hope of being more organized, and tackling AND completing a few projects which have plagued me long enough. (Though keeping my bathroom clean isn't one of them. I have that one down, thank you very much! See, anything can happen!)

I have hope for my children, and my unborn grandchildren, waiting for their turn on earth. I have hope they will experience great joy and purpose in their lives. I have hope for healing where it is needed, across generations and time. I know this kind of healing is possible and true.

If you know someone with fibro, chronic fatigue, or mental illness ...

Today's post is going to be a little bit different than some. Maybe it's my new meds talking. Or maybe it's the fibro symptom where your brain and your tongue feel temporarily disconnected, and you find yourself in the place of, "Did I just say that?"

I have fibromyalgia. Basically, it is a syndrome of the nervous system (one theory) and falls under a larger umbrella of central sensitivity syndromes. In my case, my nervous system has been ramped up for so long that it can no longer process most stimuli as a normal person would.

I look fine. In fact, people tell me I look great. I recently lost 14 pounds in an effort to eat healthier and hence, be healthier. Changing my diet has helped some. I can tell when I start to eat too much of refined foods. Mainly, joints start to hurt that didn't previously.

I try to have fun and a positive attitude. I must be a bit stronger than I used to be, because when it first set in, I would sit quietly at a family or social function - not like me. I felt apart from everyone. I didn't understand what I was experiencing, or why. I was a bit negative in my outlook on life - totally subconscious on my part, but there all the same.

Now, I can interact with people and not feel like a deer in headlights. I can laugh and joke. I do not handle cognitive or emotional stress well. But then, who does? Maybe we should just do away with those kinds of stress. The physical is enough.

As I said, there is a mental component to fibromyalgia. I get depressed occasionally. I get anxious quite often. I am using cognitive and physical therapies to work with the anxiety, but sometimes, it just can't be helped. My body takes over, sending me messages to slow down and take care of myself however I have to. So, I understand a bit better now how devastating mental illness can be for a person.

When I have a big flare -- and almost anything can set it off, even the weather, DH calls me a walking barometer -- I feel utterly useless for a period.

Folks, I am writing this because this syndrome is real. It affects people, even though they may try not to show it. I have to be very careful to keep my life at a certain low stress level. If I do that, then I can function enough to take care of myself and my family somewhat. I also work to make it a habit to be cheerful, even when I am feeling crummy. Because I don't want to spread that negative energy, or come across as feeling sorry for myself (well, not for more than 15 minutes at a time). But there are some times I can't hide it, and that's okay. My family is learning to adjust.

I've given up some things. Sitting on your caboose on the sofa watching TV or cruising the internet is not how I would choose to spend my time, but sometimes, I'm grateful I can do that and take my mind off my symptoms.

I miss working and interacting with people. I worked hard to be productive in my field. I miss it, but I can only handle so much interaction per day now. When I'm done, I'm done, and my system tells me.

I miss being able to contribute substantially to my children's college tuition. I miss taking them on trips. I miss being able to drive on a road trip with them without needing major rest when I get there. I miss long hikes and adventures. I miss not being spent by three p.m.., sometimes earlier depending on what's happened earlier in the day or if a storm system is moving in. I miss dancing with abandon.

I miss being able to think. I can't remember what you might have said five minutes ago, and I can forget even trying to remember the details. I have to write everything down on a calendar, in very specific ways. The anxiety of trying to remember things can be overwhelming at times.

Now, in case you think I want sympathy or feel sorry for myself, I do not. I am grateful EVERY SINGLE DAY that I can walk, move, and feel well enough that I am not stuck in bed, as some fibro sufferers are. I am very cognizant that many people suffer in the world with far worse, but I also know I am entitled to live my life how I have to to be healthy. That often means my having boundaries other people don't or can't understand.

So, I guess, in the end, this post is about being aware. If someone you know or love has a syndrome/illness you can't see, it doesn't necessarily define them, but it does affect them. And when you ask about it and they tell you, listen.

Then believe them.

Even though you can't see it, even though they have made the decision to be cheerful, even though they can enjoy non-stressful events just fine for a period, and they realize and KNOW there is much to be grateful for, don't assume that it's all in their head. Because it's not.

Little Surprises

Lately, I have been working on establishing routines. Wha? Huh? What kind of routines, you ask?

Well, for starters, something as simple as doing the same things when I get up in the morning, like doing my physical therapy exercises, having reading/writing time, showering, unloading the dishwasher, etc .... getting those things done, without really thinking about it, so I can get on to the rest of the day, whatever that agenda might entail.

Because I struggle with time. Not being on time. Oh, no, I am VERY good at that. (Thank you, growing up in a military family.)

No, I've simply been on the treadmill for so long at a certain speed, it's hard for me to ramp down as I would like. To move smoothly through things, with elegance, ease, and trust.

It also doesn't help that I am easily distracted. Like this blog post. (Secret: I haven't done my routines yet, except for my physical therapy exercises .... ;-)). Of course, being the artistic, creative soul that I am I don't want to lose the moment and write this later, when the essence of the event has to be re-created. (Recognizing that perhaps that thought is a myth in itself, but will save that for another post.)

So, here I am, my routine completely jumbled in the best way this morning, and all because of serendipity, once again. Seems the universe would like to help me out on this one.

I woke and after groggy contemplation, decided to check FB. Hmmm, routine already disrupted there. But I didn't stay on long, as I sometimes do. Then upstairs to grab my exercise stuff - inflatable ball, towel, rubber band - and was it my imagination or did my exercises seem to go more smoothly this morning? I do like just getting them done, but not hurriedly. I enjoy the movement, my body aligning itself as it needs to be.

Then, downstairs for breakfast. I figured, fix some breakfast, then read my scriptures while eating. Ah, that sounded nice! I opened the cupboard door.

What, no oatmeal? None? Oh, but those cookies were good :-). What else to fix? Then I spy an old but perfectly serviceable box of beignet mix! (Beignets are French donuts for those of you who have not been to New Orleans and tasted these yummy treats. Cafe Dumond, if you are ever in the area.) Hmmm, both my boys are home, should I surprise them? Yes, I will.

I begin to mix them up in the kitchen ... quite easy, really, just add water. And as I am mixing darling hubby comes down and begins playing the piano in the adjoining room. (Which he never does in the morning.) He is really, really good by the way. A lovely hymn, "If You Could Hie to Kolob." Gorgeous, melodic arrangement. Then, darling son, 22, appears with his guitar. He begins playing a counter melody. They finish, then after a brief tuning, they play the song again.

I am in heaven, singing along softly in the kitchen, watching the puffy little balls of dough fry in the hot oil, dousing them with powdered sugar, and imagining the delight and surprise of my boys at such an unexpected treat.

Routines are good. So is spontaneity. And feeling very grateful that I had the time this morning to be spontaneous like that. Now I am off to finish my routines and get on with the rest of the day.

Wise Words

Anxiety and depression have been a large part of my life, though for a long time, I didn't know it. I could recount numerous relatives who self-medicated, but I won't. That was their journey, their pain.

I thought when I moved from my family of origin, that those demons would be gone. Little did I know that these lovely little diseases are carried genetically, chemically, often passed around the family like a hot potato, willy nilly, afflicting those we love seemingly at random. I never quite understood it. "Come on, just exercise and eat right and be positive and it will all work out." Or, "Just snap out of it."

Now I understand. If there is anything having fibromyalgia has taught me, it is more compassion. Much more. And for that, I am very grateful.

A dear friend of mine who also suffers from these afflictions recently spoke at a congregational address. He alluded briefly and appropriately to his experience, and then proceeded to speak from his experience. I would like to share his words here, not verbatim, but I did take good notes :-).

First, we should remind ourselves we can figure 'this' out, and that ultimately, these afflictions (or any afflictions, for that matter) will be taken from us in the next life. But for now, some days, you just put one foot in front of the other, and realize that in doing so, you're doing just great.

Second, he reminded us to use 'faith promoting language' in our heads, in other words, in our self-talk. Instead of thinking of something as a disaster, we can look at it as a wonderful learning opportunity. If something seems a mess, we can instead view it as an opportunity to figure out a solution. Recognize that many things are just a bump in the road.

We need to empower ourselves. If we ask ourselves, "What's wrong with me?" well, the brain will tell us.

Look at things through the prism of faith. This is not to minimize the feelings and emotions we experience during affliction, but it is good to remember that those feelings and emotions are not everything there is.

It's a good place

"Slow and steady wins the race ..." How many times have I heard this? Yet, it is not my nature. I have run off adrenaline, the rush, the thrill, the "look how much I can do!' for so long. My being was in my doing. As I've written here before, it's hard to change gears, even when life circumstances force you to. The body may change, the heart and head can be another matter. And it's not fun being at war with oneself.

So, slow and steady wins the race calms my heart. Helps me remember I am right where I need to be. Keeps the anxiety and adrenaline monsters at bay ... no, more than that. It helps them go 'poof' in a cloud of smoke, naming them for the illusions they truly are.

Earlier, I mentioned the book Style Statement - 'Walk, don't run!' Well, I never finished that book. Maybe I will this summer ... we will see. Other books are currently on my plate to digest, slowly and steadily. But I do often think on what my style statement would be, those two words that would guide my actions because they reflect my core. Integrity can feel really good.

Two words I came up with were 'unstudied presence.' I think this fits in nicely with slow and steady ... I'm not going to obsess over things, but remain 'unstudied' about them. Just do some things because making them a habit allows for more peace in my life, and do others without over thinking them so I don't feel anxious about the process. Presence keeps me steady with my desires, my goals, my dreams ... the quality of life I am seeking to build for myself.

Slow and steady ... feels good, doesn't it?