So, a few days ago I woke up feeling really crummy. Okay, it started even before I woke up. It started when I woke up the FIRST time, at 3 am, with a burning sore throat and night sweats. Got it? Sure, I know you know that feeling -- you're getting sick, and man, are you excited about it ... NOT!
The day did not proceed much better from there. I felt under the weather most of the day, though I won't deny three ibuprofen helped tremendously and I was able to at least function. (A certain level of functioning was crucial as I had quite a bit of driving to do ...)
By mid-afternoon, I was not faring much better. I had moved from I don't feel really well to Somebody give me the amnesia drug they gave me the in the hospital (AMAZING STUFF) and drop me in either Tahiti or Hawaii with the body I had at 18. Three ibuprofen bounced up to four to take the edge off of a rapidly developing migraine.
Life seemed to be getting worse, moment by moment - especially after realizing how far from that 18 year old body my own had come - so I did what I always do when life gets hard. I ran a warm bath and put on some face mask stuff. (I sometimes feel sorry for men that they don't know about these ways to pamper themselves. Hey, I've watched football to cut the stress, and I've gotta say, it JUST AIN'T THE SAME.)
Finally, somewhere between the ibuprofen and the face mask, I began to feel better -- well enough to keep to my original plans for the evening to enjoy some Thai food with girlfriends. Woohoo!
But I woke up this morning feeling crummy again. And on top of that, I felt mad that I felt crummy. You know the internal drill: "I have so much to do," "I don't have time to be sick," or what about, "It is a BEAUTIFUL day outside -- why do I have to be sick TODAY?" Whine, whine, whine ... let me tell you, I was just filling my house (and head) with loads of positive mental energy.
So, I tried to do a mental shift from such distorted thinking. I asked myself, How would I handle this situation if it were one of my kids that were sick? Without a second thought, I knew I would tell that child to rest and spend the day getting better. Funny, I could give my child permission to do that -- I could even see the necessity of it -- but myself? Oh, my, my -- life can be so full of 'shoulds' and 'should nots'! It was crystal clear to me how distorted my thinking had been!
So, for the past 3 days, I've had lots of practice following this advice. I think I am getting good at it. I do hope I feel better tomorrow, though.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
Once in a lifetime
I think every one should have a near-death experience in their life -- at least once.
I am told I almost died December 7. I wouldn't know, as I slept through the whole thing, but that is what everyone told me when I woke up. Turns out I am one of a select -- ahem, special -- group of people who reacts badly to a certain anesthesia. By react badly, I mean, my heart slows down to a ridiculously slow rate, like, 25 bpm. Usually a special person such as myself can be pulled out of this reaction by being given a dose of some other drug especially used for this purpose, but noooo ... turns out I am extra special and needed two doses, and by then - most understandably - the anesthesiologist and surgeon decided I was too special to be operated on that day, most especially by them.
So when I again decide to have my bunions fixed, I will have to go to a MAJOR hospital to have it done, where my specialness can be monitored most carefully. I'm so glad we found this out on some minor elective surgery such as a bunionectomy, and not when I was in a major car accident and had to be put under to be fixed no matter what. This information about myself definitely falls under the category of GOOD TO KNOW.
So what was so great about this experience that everyone should have one? Hmmm ... well, for starters, everyone -- and I mean everyone -- treats you real good for the next 24-48 hours after your near-death experience. (If you're lucky, you might squeeze a whole 72 hours out of such a catastrophe, but my kids are all teenagers and the best I could do was 48 ...). For those 2 days, I definitely felt special -- and, by extension, did my kids as they related the traumatic story to their friends of how THEIR mother had almost DIED ... Another benefit is it gives the 'near-deathee' an entirely new perspective on what is and what is not important in life. This effect, in my case, lasted a full 24 hours before the world came crashing in on me again -- but then, maybe, 24 hours is EXACTLY the length of time it took for the drugs to completely leave my system ...
I am told I almost died December 7. I wouldn't know, as I slept through the whole thing, but that is what everyone told me when I woke up. Turns out I am one of a select -- ahem, special -- group of people who reacts badly to a certain anesthesia. By react badly, I mean, my heart slows down to a ridiculously slow rate, like, 25 bpm. Usually a special person such as myself can be pulled out of this reaction by being given a dose of some other drug especially used for this purpose, but noooo ... turns out I am extra special and needed two doses, and by then - most understandably - the anesthesiologist and surgeon decided I was too special to be operated on that day, most especially by them.
So when I again decide to have my bunions fixed, I will have to go to a MAJOR hospital to have it done, where my specialness can be monitored most carefully. I'm so glad we found this out on some minor elective surgery such as a bunionectomy, and not when I was in a major car accident and had to be put under to be fixed no matter what. This information about myself definitely falls under the category of GOOD TO KNOW.
So what was so great about this experience that everyone should have one? Hmmm ... well, for starters, everyone -- and I mean everyone -- treats you real good for the next 24-48 hours after your near-death experience. (If you're lucky, you might squeeze a whole 72 hours out of such a catastrophe, but my kids are all teenagers and the best I could do was 48 ...). For those 2 days, I definitely felt special -- and, by extension, did my kids as they related the traumatic story to their friends of how THEIR mother had almost DIED ... Another benefit is it gives the 'near-deathee' an entirely new perspective on what is and what is not important in life. This effect, in my case, lasted a full 24 hours before the world came crashing in on me again -- but then, maybe, 24 hours is EXACTLY the length of time it took for the drugs to completely leave my system ...
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Growing Up
Today I realized my ds (darling son) -- my youngest, my baby -- all of nearly 15 years of age -- is growing up, and doing so quickly.
He and I have a sacred spot. It may not appear a sacred place to others, and to be honest, before today, I had not thought of it as such, but so it is. Our sacred spot is ... (drumroll) ... our backyard trampoline. And today, my son, while lying out in the sun on said tramp eating half of a pint of leftover Ben and Jerry's ice cream, told me he wanted to be alone.
That hurt my mother-heart. More than his first day of kindergarten, or when he stopped asking to sleep in our bed, or his eighth grade graduation, or even how unbaby-like he looked when he got braces. Yes, all of those were milestones, to be sure, but there is nothing like when a child tells you they want to be alone in a place you have always been welcome.
In the heartbeat following his pronouncement, memories tumbled unbidden into my conscious mind.
This place -- the backyard tramp -- was where we lay in the warm afternoon sun, just talking, napping, or eating ice cream (the ice cream being a more recent addition to favorite activities there). We would sometimes talk, sometimes not.
We also enjoyed jumping on the trampoline together, especially when ds was younger, though I could never jump for as long as he could. I would say 'No more,' and he would plead with me to jump with him just a little bit more.
This place was where we had spent summer nights sleeping beneath the stars. It was always a contest to see if we both would make it through the entire night without creeping back to our beds. (I'm ashamed to say, I usually lost.) But those times we did wake to morning light streaming through the nearby over-sized pine, I relished the feel of his slender body snuggled close to mine.
All of this and more I felt in an instant. I softly said, "Okay, I guess I'll have to wait for grandchildren," then quietly walked away, leaving him alone.
I don't think his desire to be alone today was indicative of how he will feel all of the time. But it was a first time, and for that, it is a rite of passage.
He and I have a sacred spot. It may not appear a sacred place to others, and to be honest, before today, I had not thought of it as such, but so it is. Our sacred spot is ... (drumroll) ... our backyard trampoline. And today, my son, while lying out in the sun on said tramp eating half of a pint of leftover Ben and Jerry's ice cream, told me he wanted to be alone.
That hurt my mother-heart. More than his first day of kindergarten, or when he stopped asking to sleep in our bed, or his eighth grade graduation, or even how unbaby-like he looked when he got braces. Yes, all of those were milestones, to be sure, but there is nothing like when a child tells you they want to be alone in a place you have always been welcome.
In the heartbeat following his pronouncement, memories tumbled unbidden into my conscious mind.
This place -- the backyard tramp -- was where we lay in the warm afternoon sun, just talking, napping, or eating ice cream (the ice cream being a more recent addition to favorite activities there). We would sometimes talk, sometimes not.
We also enjoyed jumping on the trampoline together, especially when ds was younger, though I could never jump for as long as he could. I would say 'No more,' and he would plead with me to jump with him just a little bit more.
This place was where we had spent summer nights sleeping beneath the stars. It was always a contest to see if we both would make it through the entire night without creeping back to our beds. (I'm ashamed to say, I usually lost.) But those times we did wake to morning light streaming through the nearby over-sized pine, I relished the feel of his slender body snuggled close to mine.
All of this and more I felt in an instant. I softly said, "Okay, I guess I'll have to wait for grandchildren," then quietly walked away, leaving him alone.
I don't think his desire to be alone today was indicative of how he will feel all of the time. But it was a first time, and for that, it is a rite of passage.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Anger
I have been reading David McCullough's biography of John Adams. Today John Adams died ... and I felt sad. Actually, I have felt very sad for several days now, so I can't rightly attribute my sadness to Presidents Adams's passing.
I can, however, attribute it to anger. I do not know if my anger is justified or not, but regardless, I believe I have anger that comes from "feeling guilty. Guilt, both earned and unearned, easily converts into anger ... and sadly, [I] have no place to go with all that anger" (Beattie, p. 155).
I humbly admit that I am not very good at dealing appropriately and immediately with anger. I grew up with and so subconsciously subscribe to several myths concerning anger, such as (1) good, nice people don't feel angry, or (2) anger is a sinful emotion, and (my personal favorite): it's okay to feel angry only when we can justify our feelings. (No judgment present in that statement!)
So, I turn my guilt and anger inward and stew and before I know it, I am feeling extremely sad. What do I have to feel guilty about, you may ask? I feel guilty for feeling angry! Hmmm ... which came first, the chicken or the egg? Don't ask. You might make me angry ... or sad. Take your pick.
But I am told, that as I work through these emotional adventures -- and believe me, it can be WORK!! -- that feeling angry is normal and okay and that I may even feel angry for some time before I feel better. Oh, joy!
I can, however, attribute it to anger. I do not know if my anger is justified or not, but regardless, I believe I have anger that comes from "feeling guilty. Guilt, both earned and unearned, easily converts into anger ... and sadly, [I] have no place to go with all that anger" (Beattie, p. 155).
I humbly admit that I am not very good at dealing appropriately and immediately with anger. I grew up with and so subconsciously subscribe to several myths concerning anger, such as (1) good, nice people don't feel angry, or (2) anger is a sinful emotion, and (my personal favorite): it's okay to feel angry only when we can justify our feelings. (No judgment present in that statement!)
So, I turn my guilt and anger inward and stew and before I know it, I am feeling extremely sad. What do I have to feel guilty about, you may ask? I feel guilty for feeling angry! Hmmm ... which came first, the chicken or the egg? Don't ask. You might make me angry ... or sad. Take your pick.
But I am told, that as I work through these emotional adventures -- and believe me, it can be WORK!! -- that feeling angry is normal and okay and that I may even feel angry for some time before I feel better. Oh, joy!
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Ode to an (unexpected) friend
I know you are with me. You're always with me.
What amazing words -the words of a friend. And it is true. There are certain people in our lives who are always with us. We go through experiences, sometimes very moving ones, and these friends seem to understand our stories even before the words are out of our mouths. Yet still they listen as if they are hearing us for the very first time.
Nothing can take the place of such a friend - the welcoming smile when you say hello, the dancing eyes when in on a shared joke, the listening heart when oh, so needed! I can think of no greater blessing than such a friend.
When with this friend, it is as if nothing else in the world is needed. Being with them even beats shopping. Hey, there's a thought! Maybe I should take my friend shopping and get the best of both worlds (smile).
What amazing words -the words of a friend. And it is true. There are certain people in our lives who are always with us. We go through experiences, sometimes very moving ones, and these friends seem to understand our stories even before the words are out of our mouths. Yet still they listen as if they are hearing us for the very first time.
Nothing can take the place of such a friend - the welcoming smile when you say hello, the dancing eyes when in on a shared joke, the listening heart when oh, so needed! I can think of no greater blessing than such a friend.
When with this friend, it is as if nothing else in the world is needed. Being with them even beats shopping. Hey, there's a thought! Maybe I should take my friend shopping and get the best of both worlds (smile).
Saturday, April 21, 2007
No title for this one
Today I am not feeling lavish at all. I am way beyond peevish!!!!
If I weren't so tired, I would go out dancing. But even that probably wouldn't make me feel better.
If I weren't so tired, I would go out dancing. But even that probably wouldn't make me feel better.
Friday, March 30, 2007
(De)Constructing Peace
Some days I feel good - perhaps not great, but generally pretty good. Other days I feel peevish. A friend asked me how I would define peevish, and I replied, "Restless. Like something isn't quite right." But as I can't see that anything major in my life is going wrong, then I assume the something 'not quite right' is something (with)in me.
Today was a good day. Today was a peaceful day. I got up, showered, and dressed, as usual. I am not one to lie about in my pajamas, though in the past I have done some pretty impressive sleeping in. I ironed clothes while listening to religious programming on the TV. Powerful yet loving messages were given, and the music only added to the general sweet tone that washed over me, almost imperceptibly. (I should interject here that ironing usually puts me in a peaceful mood. I find there is something restful yet also hopeful about freshly laundered clothes waiting to be prepared for wearing. The actual work is repetitive enough that my mind is left free to wander or not ...)
Later, while out walking our neighborhood, the pleasant mood continued. My husband and I talked freely of upcoming possibilities in our lives. I have decided, after examining the tone of our conversation, that it is a good thing to practice being hopeful -- ah, there is a worthy goal! I found today that expressing needs and wants in a hopeful manner allowed me to see avenues of action that I had not considered before. Hmmm ... from this moment on, I give myself permission to be hopeful, even when my inclination is to do otherwise. We shall see what comes of this ...
Our earlier walk was so pleasant, and the day progressing so lovingly, that I stole away alone for another walk later in the afternoon. Now the reader must understand, I NEVER have or take the time to do this -- take two walks in one day, I mean - but today ... I DID. It was like being on vacation. What a treat. I must find a way to feel like I am on vacation more often.
Today was a good day. Today was a peaceful day. I got up, showered, and dressed, as usual. I am not one to lie about in my pajamas, though in the past I have done some pretty impressive sleeping in. I ironed clothes while listening to religious programming on the TV. Powerful yet loving messages were given, and the music only added to the general sweet tone that washed over me, almost imperceptibly. (I should interject here that ironing usually puts me in a peaceful mood. I find there is something restful yet also hopeful about freshly laundered clothes waiting to be prepared for wearing. The actual work is repetitive enough that my mind is left free to wander or not ...)
Later, while out walking our neighborhood, the pleasant mood continued. My husband and I talked freely of upcoming possibilities in our lives. I have decided, after examining the tone of our conversation, that it is a good thing to practice being hopeful -- ah, there is a worthy goal! I found today that expressing needs and wants in a hopeful manner allowed me to see avenues of action that I had not considered before. Hmmm ... from this moment on, I give myself permission to be hopeful, even when my inclination is to do otherwise. We shall see what comes of this ...
Our earlier walk was so pleasant, and the day progressing so lovingly, that I stole away alone for another walk later in the afternoon. Now the reader must understand, I NEVER have or take the time to do this -- take two walks in one day, I mean - but today ... I DID. It was like being on vacation. What a treat. I must find a way to feel like I am on vacation more often.
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