Hard Lessons

Eat, Pray, Love - Elizabeth Gilbert 

I’m recovering from cervical spine surgery. My cervical spine, code name C1-C7, is a mess.  C4-5 literally caved on me and created all kinds of side effects like numb fingers and arms that felt like Mad Max was my personal trainer.  Having had two previous surgeries in the past three years, I debated whether I could just live with the pain until the doctor informed me, without corrective surgery the progression of my degeneration would eventually leave me a paraplegic. When viewed on the MRI, my neck was like a bobble head doll, precariously wobbling on damaged vertebrae compromising an already bruised and inflamed spinal column. My hands were getting number by the day. That got my attention. I’m not afraid to die. I am afraid of being a living, breathing burden to my loved ones. This surgery was more risky than having my hip replaced less than nine months ago.  It involved slitting my throat, close to  my vocal chords, trachea, and carotid artery not to mention all those tiny nerves running up and down my spinal column. I had to force my mind into happier thoughts in order not to dwell there.  My Ortho Surgeon reassured me he would be partnering with a Neurosurgeon, to assure a good outcome.  I didn’t have a lot of time to think about it, which made it a little easier on me, however, I was warned to not fall or get in an accident before surgery and that left me gingerly tip-toeing for the weeks preceding. 

I have to be honest, I am growing weary of surgeries. I am even more tired of these long, drawn out  recoveries and six weeks with no driving, dependent on others to take care of my transportation to doctor visits, shopping and the added burden of entertaining me to keep social deprivation at bay. Normally gratitude is as natural for me as breathing, but I have to work a lot harder at it while in the midst of these recovery processes.  Silence, isolation, and I think even the medication opens up a big, black hole that I know I shouldn’t dive into, but out of pain and boredom, I often do.  It’s like an out of body experience.  I can see myself heading there and try to talk this other me off of the precipice, but it doesn’t always work. There I go tumbling into a sea of self-pity and dangerous thoughts. The kind of thoughts that wipe out my hard drive with everything on it that I’ve learned to keep myself in good thinking order. It is more difficult, when my physical body is healed, to get back on track into some semblance of healthy patterns, routine, and practice. 

This time, for some reason, it has been just a few inches easier to maintain an optimistic outlook.  Maybe I am becoming a pro at being broken and I’ve just accepted it. Or, maybe its something healthier than that.  I not only recite the serenity prayer, I’ve woven it into my recovering lifestyle. I’ve accepted the things I cannot change. I don’t have to like it, but acceptance gets me at least halfway home. 

Our thoughts have the capacity to make us miserable, and negative thinking can be especially insidious, feeding on itself, with the potential to become a self-fulfilling and self-defeating prophesy.  The process of pain recovery includes dramatically changing the negative progression starting with regaining cognitive and emotional balance through the application of acceptance strategies and mindfulness based practices. - Psychology Today

Peace then begins to settle in allowing me to find the truth, nestled in that part of my heart where God resides. When I get really quiet, He whispers, “All experiences are opportunities for you to learn lessons, grow, and evolve. Know this well and life will be easier.” I once again, sometimes begrudgingly, other times freely, depending on how miserable I've become-  accept. He’s right.  He always is. 

After my first surgery in 2014, while I was recovering,  I found out who my true friends were and how important it is to a positive, grateful life to surround myself with people who enhance it. I learned the true meaning of faith and walking boldly into the thing that scares you the most. I discovered I had no more patience for working in toxic environments, surrounded by bitter, unhappy, and mean-spirited people.  I overcame my fear of lack and failure and had both the courage and faith to  leave a miserable environment.  God, as usual, stepped up to the plate and carved a path for me to continue to pay my bills and detox from the negativity, giving me back my serenity and my smile.  Surgery One - Lesson Learned:  Have Faith -  Mustard Seed Faith.

My second surgery, I learned how incredibly  independent, resourceful, and strong I could be  as well as discovering the keys to my happiness were in my own pocket. No one else could make me happy.  And no one was going to swoop in and rescue me.   I was responsible for taking care of my mind and my needs, all of them;  my loneliness, self-confidence, sense of worth, peace of mind and healthy liaisons were up to me.  Surgery Two - Lesson Learned: I’ve been given all the resources to take care of me.  I am responsible for my serenity and happiness.

With this recent surgery, suffering seemed inevitable as I tried to adapt to more than a few awkward changes.  The neurosurgeon stressed, no BLT, not the sandwich, rather, bending, lifting, and twisting.  I have to wear a hard collar monster brace around my neck 24-7 for six weeks, except to shower and eat. I predict I will have water-wrinkled, plucked chicken skin at the end of it all. And, stalling dining, like a little kid being forced to sit at the table until she finishes her dreaded peas, has become the norm for me.  Anything to escape the suffocating clutches of my Miami J Brace which sounds like the name for a cool rapper dude. Only there is not one thing cool or attractive about it. I can't even figure out a way to bling it up being the diva lady I am. It's like they purposely made it ugly to slow you down. And,  do you know how difficult it is to try to projectile spit your toothpaste out past six inches of brace ledge supporting your chin? The bathroom mirror looks like a tube of toothpaste has been murdered in there.  I can't drink (neatly) without using a straw, including my coffee.  The brightly colored neon ones I purchased do lend an air of whimsey to my morning ritual.  Sleeping on my back is not a natural state under normal conditions, but back sleeping (and I use the word  sleep loosely) with your head encased in a vice?  It put an end to  my traditional lullaby of Friends episodes pre-slumber, something light and funny to fall asleep to.  I couldn’t even see the television. And, during the day, In my  boredom, I  tuned into the latest political updates, and spent time in my head wondering if our country would turn into a fascist state with a chubby, yellow skinned dictator with the chalkiest white teeth I’ve ever seen, at the helm. I wasn’t fooled by his expensive suit and red power tie. I found myself screaming at the television, “Use your big words. Give me a real plan and how you will achieve it!”  I had myself worked up into a fever pitch, addicted to the political poison on continuous drip by Fox news and CNN. 

Then, I read something:

“Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.” —Viktor Frankl

What? Before I even had an opportunity for my blood pressure to skyrocket, I could turn the channel?  I could watch The Chew or Hallmark movies, fall asleep to the gentle sounds of nature and plug in my essential oils diffuser with a little Ylang Ylang to soothe me to sleep.  I could make a joyful ritual out of removing my brace and mindfully appreciate the delicious food in front of me, savoring every bite.  I could stop complaining about the brace itself and be grateful that it is holding up my fragile neck, and keeping it safe while I heal. 

Surgery Three - Lesson Learned:  Pain is inevitable.  Suffering is optional.

Into focus comes the big picture and I am continuing the journey on my road to transformation.  Thankfully, rest breaks are not only allowed, but encouraged.

Negativity as a teacher. A return to Optimism.

I wrote this last summer a few months after my hip replacement surgery.  It was a great exercise then and a good review now.  Somehow in the midst of the negativity a lesson was learned that opened the door to gratitude again. Through it all,  I discovered how much power I have- granted by the grace of God.  We are responsible for our own happiness, NO MATTER THE CIRCUMSTANCES.  I'm reposting because I need the reminder:  All is well, and will be well, as I head into a scary cervical spine surgery in three weeks.  Three surgeries in three years - I should play the lottery.  Lucky number 3.  Third time is a charm they say.  I am ready to be charmed and I know, this time, Optimism is my best  pre-surgery medicine. 

July 4, 2015 - I was cleared by the doctor yesterday to drive, walk, swim, and bike.  Now, you would think I would be overjoyed to be able to do those things. It was still only mid-summer. These last seven weeks have been a real challenge, especially taking my wheels away. I also wasn’t prepared at all for the emotional roller coaster ride brought on by pain, medication, surgery, isolation, and immobility.  I felt like a child, helpless and dependent on the schedules and whims of other people.   My social life, cheering squad, and shopping needs were in their control. It felt like my emotional well-being was too.   I don’t do well being dependent or asking for help.  I've been self-sufficient for the greater part of my life.  It seemed when I did reach out, my surgically/pharmaceuticaly  induced mood swings and depression was something no one wanted to deal with and I felt that terrible sting of rejection.  Abandoned, once again. Shouldn’t family and friends accept me as I was - mood swings, negativity and all?  They hadn’t just had their hip socket sawed off and a metal rod jammed down into their femur. They’d be cranky too, I thought.  

For a few moments there, instead of squealing in delight because I could drive,  I sat with my doctor and a long list, questioning him on when I could do Yoga, hit the nautilus at the gym, go back to spin class, and travel.  “Not for six months,” he replied.  He had just shown my an Xray of my perfect new hip - the one that was giving me back my ability to live my life as fully as the average baby boomer and it wasn’t enough?  Maybe I needed to relearn that art of gratitude.  I am normally a grateful person by nature so my “not enough” thinking quickly turned to jubilation as I strode to my daughter’s car and proclaimed a  celebration in order.  After she dropped me off from a cane-free walk around a store and lunch, I backed my car out of my driveway just to make sure it would start, and my new bionic gam could control the pedals.  Freedom!   I felt like a prisoner who had served the time and was sprung from a long sentence.  The sky was a little bluer, the world a lot more glorious. The air was fresh, unlike the canned air-conditioned prison laced with the smell of my isolation and, for awhile there, a limited amount of caring about appearances or hygiene on my part.  With every mile I drove, Optimism, once again, rushed through my veins.

 It appeared the road to Optimism could be found by taking the Gratitude trail. 

But, boy was it earned on a long, often lonely road.  There is something about being cooped up for an extended period of time.  I don’t care how optimistic and grateful you think you are, every little character defect (yours and others), every insecurity, every still unhealed part of you is going to show up to keep you company in the still  of your healing journey.  My traveling insecurities would come and go uninvited, sometimes just paying a short visit and other times they would arrive with the steamer trunk, packed up for a world cruise. My head had a difficult time changing course and heading towards Port Optimism. Under normal circumstances, at this juncture of my life, through trial and error, I have learned what tools to use to turn my thinking into something constructive and optimistic.  Nature works well, however, I couldn’t sit outside for a few weeks and the weeks when I could, it rained constantly.  Meditation has been my best friend for a number of years now, but those little minions in my head would rattle cages I hadn’t opened up in years and it took all my strength to keep them locked out. Reading a book was difficult - pain medication and concentration don't make good bedfellows.  I granny walked my way to the computer, pushing my metal walker with the homeless lady bag on the front, and spent hours creating my own little motivational screen-savers to reinforce all the good in my life. I practically wallpapered my phone and computer with them.  The one on this blog post was designed on a particularly sarcastic and anger infused day.  I might be an unpleasant grouch, but at least I would be authentic and embrace my grouchhood.  I think that’s when my 2016 word of the year began to take shape. Authentically a Scrooge.  I prayed to be happy, and then decided no one could possibly be happy considering my situation, so I prayed for peace, at least.   A little voice in my head reminded me, if I wanted long-term peace, maybe I should do a little work and the questions I should ask might go like this.  

What is your anger and pique trying to teach you?  What are the lessons that you will take from this experience?   

Here goes:

I was put out that I had to essentially take care of myself.  After all, I had taken care of just about everyone else in my life  and it was my turn, for a change.  I was a good human being.  A good friend. A caring soul.  As if all my goodness could be saved for a rainy day and God would grant me help because my giving ledger was full.  Wasn’t that an expectation and wasn’t it also ragingly codependent?

I was angry at myself for not taking better care of my health through the years, not making my own well-being a priority and guarding it like I had for others I loved. I had been the one that hadn’t gone to doctor when I needed to, worked long hours, and put others needs before my own.  What could I do about it now?  Absolutely nothing. Again, codependent as hell and martyrdom in its stinkiest  glory.

I was angry for expecting people who simply aren’t capable of support and thinking somehow, magically, it would be different this time.  When would I learn that some people are not dependable? Some people can barely take care of themselves.  I was really angry that I had forgotten, when people show you who they are, believe them.  However, it was a beginning in seeing that I have the power, to choose who I lean on, pick to share my secrets, and those that have the capacity to be there in unconditional love. 

Most of all, near the end of my drive through hip replacement ordeal, I was angry with myself for giving me so little credit.  I wasn’t the helpless victim.  Who better to take care of me and know what I need, but me?  Sure some things were a physical challenge during the healing process, but somehow, somewhere, the strength arrived to get done what I needed to do. 

Finally, shouldn't I have been focusing on those beautiful souls that did help me through a tough time and made sacrifices to see me through it?  Optimism might return if that's what I chose to see.  

I looked back over the course of my life.  It has been peppered with more challenges than most people can even imagine. But the real biography of my life - overcoming, diligence, faith and courage, and the right people,  always showed up when needed.  

Time spent in suffering and solitude guided me to  recognize as the Apostle Paul said, “For when I am weak, I am strong.”  

A teeny bit of negativity never hurt anyone. At least not me. It forced me to examine what was behind it. Being weak showed me how capable I was of taking care of me.  Through the crazy thinking, anger, and loneliness, there stood God guiding me through it all, making me stronger as I drew closer to Him. 

 Another obstacle  traversed on the journey to RENEW, my Word of the Year for 2015. http://examiningmyunexaminedlife.blogspot.com/2015/01/word-of-year-2015-renew.html   I am convinced, there is power in this practice.

RENEW - that was my wish, tossed out to the Universe.  It’s beginning to look like the message was received.  For starters, a new hip - RENEW: make like new.  I can feel a quickening in the pit of my stomach.  Life awaits. It’s  time to  be my own fairy godmother and head on off to the ball. I’m not looking for Prince Charming or someone to rescue me.  I wouldn't miss it for the world. I’m going  because I love to dance. 

Some people try to turn back their odometers. Not me, I want people to know why I look this way. I’ve traveled a long way and some of the roads weren’t paved. - Will Rogers

6 Continents in 60 Years! 

I was privileged to attend one of the most entertaining and delectable  birthday parties a few weeks ago. The birthday boy turned 60 and decided to throw a bash for a few hundred of his closest friends and family. It was an exceptionally generous gesture on his part and a real shin-dig (old person’s term for quite an event).  The theme of the party, was to share his wanderlust experiences with friends and family-   6 continents in his 60 years.  He's indulged in the majority of his exploration  in the last decade and a half, right around that mid-life mark.  A time, when many of us in that demographic begin to hear Peggy Lee warble in our heads, “Is that all there is?  Is that all there is?  If that’s all there is my friends... then let’s keep dancing. Let’s break out the booze and have a ball.”  My friend didn’t break out the booze; he broke out his National Geographic caliber photography AND cuisine, native to each of the continents he visited, sharing his phenomenal experiences with all of us.  Around the perimeter of the party room were six stations, each one showing off beautiful photographs of his trips as well as tables laden with the food of the continent.  Of course the European table with its spectacular, art gallery quality shots of the Alps and beyond, was my personal favorite- --the table was laden with exotic imported meats and cheeses. Cheeses of all colors and textures! Heaven! South America wasn't my personal favorite, but food is my friend, and I sampled it too.   Now, China, India, and Africa were excellent, but, Antarctica revealed the most delicious crab cakes with Dijon dill sauce.  Believe it or not, even I would visit there despite the below, below, freezing temperatures.  I hate the cold.  But the privilege of partaking in the most breathtaking natural views on the planet, would more than make up for shivering myself silly.  The older I get, the less I discount any door that opens,  viewing most of life as just a series of wonderful opportunities.  I do think this is one of the bigger blessings of aging  and I embrace and surrender to the unknown, most every day.  Aren’t we supposed to get more set in our ways as we age?  I think not.  

I have been pondering this aging gig recently as I approach the BIG 60 too!  Glimpses of Mother Time flit through the brain every time I put my make-up on in the morning, or am only able to be a freestanding "tree” in my Yoga practice by gently touching my finger tips to something  for balance.  Best yet, when I am referred to as a person “with much experience,” I can read between those lines, and sense I am being viewed as a geriatric.  Ouch. My baby girl is turning 40 and my oldest granddaughter will be a teenager in two months. I clearly remember my mom looking into my unlined face, way, way back... when she was dying at the ripe old age of 51, and saying, “I look in the mirror and see myself as a young woman.”  I know what she meant by that - --no matter how old, we still dream of adventure, need love, and hope to be accepted for who we are.  What I don’t think is particularly healthy, is wanting to be the same person, looking and thinking the same as I did in my 20’s, 30’s, or 40’s.... For one thing, it’s far too much work! I have a whole lot more free time these days to do the things I love rather than maintaining the illusions of my youth.  My head-turner days are over, and that is a breath of fresh air. I call the shots now rather than placing myself at the disposal of the whims and opinions of others. I am much more interested in turning, and softening hearts.   

In my 20’s it was all about how I looked, and how I used, this youthful, sexual energy and power of a quick mind, firm body, and face that women, in their younger years possess.   Back then I believed it was the best thing in my toolbox as it allowed me to attract what I thought I wanted in my life.  I imagined I was in control of my world because of it, and the thought of ever losing it was incomprehensible.   I could and did attract whatever I wanted; handsome men, great jobs, success... the good life. 

 In my 30’s, and 40’s I was in heaven:  I had arrived and still had plenty of that ammo in my much bigger tool box, along with some smarts by now as well.  It was those things that I actually thought defined me back then.  My ability to attract and achieve.  But, it was exhausting to maintain.... investing all of that energy, constantly worrying about how you looked, how others looked at you;  striving to be better, do and have more because this was the benchmark for a successful life.  Virtually placing your destiny in the hands of the perceptions of other people, and so many elusive toys, is never a very good idea.  Time marches on and you best be moving forward, marching or dancing along with it.  The days of physical and mental “hot-mama-dom”  have evolved into a desire for something more noteworthy-- a legacy--- One which revolves around, unselfishness, kindness, honesty, authenticity and integrity. 

I have discovered there is a lot of freedom in pushing 60, leaving 50 behind.   First, I could be pushing up daisies. So many precious lives I’ve been touched by, are.  Second, my desire to be kinder to this vessel lined with wrinkles, and plumped up with belly fat, includes acceptance of what is, as it is. Yay!   Gone is the belief I have to loose 20 pounds, get botox, achieve notoriety,  or have lots of bucks in my  bank to be happy. I’ve quit saying things like, “I’m too old, not good enough, pretty enough, smart enough, because I just don’t buy into the advertising anymore!  I look at the decade of my 50’s as having been a time of earning an advanced degree in what’s important, what’s not, and why we are here, on this earth.   A note from my (younger) very accomplished brother, really put where I am at in perspective for me.  He said, “I especially liked this quote from your email:  If you can learn to be happy without all those things the ego defines us by… jobs, other people's opinions, a significant other,  accomplishments, you can probably live through anything, in acceptance and grace.  Wow. What wise person wrote that?  Why, it was me! He went on to say, I haven't had much time for introspection, especially lately, so I'm envious of the self-awareness you have, and the personal growth you've achieved.  In that respect, I learn vicariously through your reflections and discoveries. There are those who are lamps, and those who just reflect light.  It's never 100% one way or the other, of course, but I think you're more the former, and I'm more the latter.”  

(Thank you baby brother)... A tear trickled down my lined little face.   I am happy today, to be the lamp, rather than merely a reflection - because no matter how bright the light,  it's easily extinguishable in the world's ever-changing and fickle limelight.  There is an unselfishness, easy comfort, and continuity about the lamp. 

   

So, back to the party....What DO you buy a man who can afford to travel to six continents?  My gift to him.... a tiny kangaroo toting an even teenier Joey who held up a sign.  The sign read:   Australia or Bust!   I’m hoping he makes it 7 continents before he’s 70.  Something tells me he’s already booked the trip!    I think I’ve also learned, by his example, when you turn 60.... you just go dancing... you break out the food (or luggage), and have a ball! 

Quotes and Mantras

I love quotes.  I doubt there has been a quote written that is completely original. Life philosophies have been trumpeted throughout the centuries in some form or other, reworked and  translated into modern day lingo and the current slang of the day.  The underlying messages remain constant.  Quotes are bite sized morsels that I seem to be able to easily call upon when I need a reminder.  Or, to be used as a wordle mandala to focus on;   a mini-mantra of sorts, silently recycled in meditation time.   Recently, I started creating my own... little lesson plans and refresher courses, cathartic and informative, designed to remind me that I am a work in progress, and some days I have to revisit past grades to relearn. Sometimes..... in a new way.  Somethings.... I  egotistically believed I'd already conquered.  Here are a few that have shown up in my course curriculum. I am recognizing, as Rosanna Rosanna Danna (the comic genuis, Gilda Radner, of Saturday Night Live fame) said, "It's always something."   I AM sure of one thing...... it's a journey, and NO ONE,  escapes the learning curve as long as we are hanging out in human form. NO ONE.  Nope, not even you Eckart Tolle!   C'mon Eckart.... even Jesus didn't.  He cried in the garden and was afraid too.  We are spiritual beings, having a human experience.

Everyone we encounter is playing a part 

Love yourself and you will be able to serve and truly love others

Be authentic 

My favorite morning gratitude statement

Maybe, if I continue to write it, the wisdom will come................