I Can’t Believe I’m Not Better (Blog #923)

Leave a comment

Phew. What a day. This morning I woke up at six to get ready for a wellness exam with my new doctor at eight. (My old doctor recently moved.) Oh my gosh, y’all, you should have seen the sunrise. Hell, you should have seen the early morning traffic. I had no idea there were so many people functioning before noon. Even more, I had no idea I could be one of them. Granted, it’s now ten in the evening and I can barely hold my eyes open. But still. I made it through the day.

Miracles never cease.

Speaking of miracles, this afternoon I got a haircut. Well, a trim. Regardless, I don’t remember the last time this happened. Talk about a delight. My friend Bekah got me fixed right up. She even straightened my hair, added some magic product, and somehow–as my sister said when I sent her a picture–made me look like Fabio. (I can’t believe it’s not butter.) Now, if only I can reproduce this look on my own.

Something that’s been on my mind today has been the idea of integration. Recently I had someone suggest that when you’re on the path of personal and spiritual growth–you know, reading every book you can get your hands on–it’s a good idea to put all the damn books down every now and then. This is tough for me, but the thought is that just because you’ve completed a chapter in a book doesn’t mean you’ve completed a chapter in your life. Said another way, the things we read about, contemplate, and discuss with our therapists need time to integrate or synthesize in our lives, and this can’t happen if we’re always shoving new information in. Rather, we need periods of rest to let things take root and grow.

Personally, I have the hardest time with resting. For over a week I’ve been fighting an upper respiratory something. And whereas it’s gotten a lot better, I’m still cough, cough, coughing, especially at night. I wish I could wave a magic wand and make it go away. I realize, however, that I’m simply going to have to slow down, to stop pushing. I’m going to have to let my body heal at its own pace.

Its own slower-than-Christmas pace.

As a result of this upper respiratory something, something else I’m having to wait on is my weight loss. That is, a few weeks ago I started a diet and exercise program, but it quickly got derailed thanks to this illness. Now, I’ve still been eating at least eighty percent healthy and exercising some. Yesterday I went for a walk. This evening I did a light workout at home. It’s just not the balls-to-the-wall, Richard Simmons sweatfest I originally planned. But I’m telling myself that I’m in this for the long haul, that it doesn’t matter that all the weight I lost at home suddenly reappeared this morning at the doctor’s office. Of course, this was thanks to my clothes and shoes, but still, it was terrifying seeing THAT number.

On a positive note, the nurse said my blood pressure was “really good.”

Probably better than yours.

As I’m writing, a word that keeps coming to mind is patience. So often when I’m not feeling well I put pressure on myself to heal. I think, If I were doing everything right, I wouldn’t be sick in the first place. Of course, this means I suffer twice–once from the physical problem, once from my thinking. Along the same lines, many times since starting therapy I’ve been in situations with someone else and absolutely knew in my gut that something was off. Like that I was being manipulated, condescended to, or judged. More often than not I let it go in the moment because I didn’t know WHAT to do. Only later would I think, I could have said this. I could have walked away. Unfortunately, these thoughts usually end up being less of an impersonal evaluation and more of a personal devaluation, a making myself wrong for not having handling things in a different way.

I end up thinking, I can’t believe I’m not better.

Sometimes you simply need time.

As I think about it now, one of the reasons I don’t fix my hair like Fabio is because until today I haven’t really known how. Why WOULD I know now? This is the first time my hair’s been this long. Likewise, why would any of us know how to handle ourselves confidently and with grace in every moment? As my mom recently said, “They don’t teach that in school.” Amen. Speaking from experience, even if you have a badass therapist and have been at this thing for a while, it’s still tough when you’re caught off guard. Sometimes you simply need time to accurately evaluate a situation and decide how you want to respond. To grow and to change. To integrate.

And yes–I’m sorry to say–to lose weight.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

You know when someone crosses a line. You may not want to admit it, but you know.

"

Be Here Now (Blog #920)

Leave a comment

Every day for the last week I’ve talked about having a sinus infection. And whereas I wish I could say that I’ve been healed (and therefore talk about something else), I haven’t been. Despite the fact that I’ve tried most everything I know to do, nothing has worked. Last night I saw mild improvement but still ended up coughing myself to sleep. Today has been more of the same–gross. Honestly, I’m not sure that what I have IS a sinus infection. Maybe it’s a cold. Maybe it’s allergies. Dad says ragweed is higher than it’s ever been. Although last year I was tested for over fifty allergens including ragweed and didn’t react to a single one of them.

Take that, ragweed. You can’t get a reaction out of me.

Rather than being my usual take-charge self and flitting all over Van Buren and the internet in search of an immediate cure, I’ve spent most of today watching Netflix–in bed, in a chair, on the floor. In the last twenty-four hours I’ve watched four movies or documentaries. I’ve also done some reading. And some laundry. I’ve really tried to take it easy. To just be frickin’ sick and stop trying so hard. To stop being afraid of what might happen if I don’t. If I let go.

This is really hard for me to do.

It’s tough to know when to try and when not to try. For example, if I had’t scoured the internet for home remedies a year and a half ago, I never would have learned about the probiotic that’s been so helpful to my sinuses. But there’s obviously a point when it’s best to call uncle, to let your body rest and decide what’s best. Even if that means being sick.

One of the documentaries I watched this afternoon was called Be Here Now: The Andy Whitfield Story. Andy was the star of the television series Spartacus: Blood and Sand. This means at one point he was strong, healthy, and looked great in a loincloth. However, when he was in his late thirties, before the second season of Spartacus could begin, Andy was diagnosed with cancer. And although he underwent chemotherapy and radiation and even traveled the globe to supplement his treatments with Ayurveda, acupuncture, and yoga, he eventually died, leaving his wife and two small children behind.

The documentary mostly features Andy and his wife discussing their journey with cancer. And whereas for a year or two they were both convinced that he’d overcome his disease, there’s a point at which Andy starts thinking he won’t. The chemotherapy’s not working, the radiation’s not either, and the cancer keeps spreading. Andy says, “I finally thought, Maybe this is it for me, and it was a relief, to stop fighting.” His wife says, “I kept thinking that I needed the cancer to be over so we could get on with our life, but the cancer is our life right here, right now.”

Wow. How many of us think that our life will really start when? When we get over our illness. When we meet a lover. When our ship comes in. I know I think this on almost a daily basis. And whereas I hope many of my dreams will come true, even if they do, they’re simply fantasies now; they’re not my life. Now my life is living with my parents. It’s going to therapy and writing this blog. It’s getting a sinus infection (or cold) now and then. So I’m trying to remind myself that it’s up to me whether or not I embrace these things, whether or not I make the most of them, whether or not I choose to–as Andy had tattooed on his forearm–be here now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

There’s no such thing as a small action. There’s no such thing as small progress.

"