Filed under: Ayurvedic medicine, Health and Fitness, Spirituality, weight loss | Tags: Ayurvedic medicine, health, Spirituality, weight loss
I got Perfect Weight yesterday, by Deepak Chopra, and had to jump right in.
The book is an approach to weight loss through Ayurvedic principles. More accurately, it explains how to restore your body to its natural balance, which will help it to achieve its proper weight.
There’s a lot I like about it. I like that the watchword is moderation in all things – that’s sort of my philosophy to begin with. I like that it is based in an understanding of the interconnection of all things. I like that it is not one-size-fits-all, but rather emphasizes the need to understand your individual body and tailor your lifestyle to suit you, not some generic ideal. I like that it incorporates more than just eating and exercise – there is discussion of ayurvedic massages, one form of which is essentially body-brushing, which I already love; and of course meditation is recommended. So it is very much a total body/mind/soul approach, which is the guiding principle of Ayurveda to begin with. That is completely in keeping with my needs and my philosophies.
There are some things about which I am doubtful, though. For one thing, a basic recommendation is not to eat breakfast. That flies in the face not only of “conventional wisdom” (which doesn’t hold that much water with me) and what I’ve discovered works for me (which does). But an alternative is to just eat a very light breakfast, so it’s not like I couldn’t do it.
Exercise is not supposed to be super-strenuous, and you’re supposed to tailor it to your body type, which is great. I’ve already discovered that I do best with very moderate exercise, and I can very easily become overtrained. So I like that. However, I’m a Pitta-Vata type, with Pitta slightly more dominant, and the recommended exercises for Pitta types are walking, running, mountain climbing, hiking and swimming. I hate running. I do like walking and hiking though. Vata exercises are yoga, dance aerobics, short hikes, and light bicycling. I can completely get behind that. 
I love yoga, and light bicycling is about all I’m capable of.
But my very favorite form of exercise is weight training, which is a Kapha exercise. I have very little Kapha according to the questionnaire. Which doesn’t mean I can’t do it, of course, but it surprises me that I love it so much if it’s not really what fits my type. So that raises a bit of doubt.
He recommends going meatless two or three days a week, which doesn’t sit well with me; I’m a total carnivore. But I’m willing to give it a try; I won’t do vegan but I can definitely limit myself to nuts and dairy for my protein on a day or two. Then you’re supposed to, one day a week, take in nothing but liquids. You can have anything you want, you just have to liquefy it. This is supposed to eliminate ama (a product of improper digestion, a negative energy), strengthen digestion, and restore balance. So…that will involve definite restructuring for me but it’s not a bad thought as I’d already considered doing a juice fast once a week or so anyway.
You’re supposed to eliminate red meat as much as possible. Again, I can do this, but I don’t want to. But then, as I am so fond of quoting, “If we want what we have never had, we must do what we have never done.” Which means change. Duh. So.
You’re supposed to avoid cold foods and drinks. Meals should be freshly cooked. Even vegetables are supposed to be cooked; he doesn’t really encourage a lot of raw produce. Some, but not a lot. Very contrary to what I’ve learned, and I’m unsure about this as well.
He wants you to sip hot water throughout the day. Can I just say how repellent this sounds to me? I know people do it but I don’t like drinking water if it’s even room temperature. Another big adjustment.
There are some basic tips that really are in keeping with what we all have learned to be smart, but I like the way he states them:
- Eat in a settled and quiet atmosphere
- Always sit down to eat
- Never eat when you’re upset
- Eat to the point of comfort, not fullness, and never beyond 3/4 of your capacity
- Focus completely on your food
- Eat slowly
- Sit quietly and relax for a few minutes after you finish eating.
But he also says not to eat for at least three hours and more like six, after a meal. Since I eat six small meals a day, this is very, very different. It’s more like the way I used to eat, which scares me. But then, I won’t be eating the same things I used to eat. So I’m not sure about this one. He does say if you must snack, make it something light like a piece of fruit.
Breakfast is supposed to be a very small meal if you eat it at all, lunch the big, main meal, and dinner light. I’m not sure how I feel about this, either; the six small, nearly equal meals has been so good for my blood sugar and my weight. So I’m debating it.
There’s much more to the book but the only other main thing I want to talk about is the daily cycle. You have to understand the doshas for it to make complete sense, but the gist of it is that there are certain times of the day when certain aspects of your physiology are more dominant. Therefore, you should always get out of bed before 6 a.m., to avoid sluggishness. You should never eat anything heavy except between 10 a.m. and 2 p.m. Exercise is best between 6 a.m. and 10 a.m., and 6 p.m. and 10 p.m. You should always be in bed by 10 p.m.
This actually fits my day pretty well. I’d have to get up a bit earlier, but not that much. I exercise in the evening, so that works out well. And I have always, always tried to be in bed by 10, because frankly I needs me my sleep. The eating thing is hard though. As I said before, spacing my small meals evenly through the day has really worked well for me. I will have to consider this. Although really I guess that’s not contrary to this, because none of those meals would be considered heavy…
Enough for now. More later.
Filed under: Ayurvedic medicine, Happiness and Joy, Random thoughts, Spirituality | Tags: Ayurvedic medicine, Deepak Chopra, health, mindfulness, Spirituality
I’m beginning to study a new area (for me), ayurvedic medicine. I’ve been introduced to the works of Deepak Chopra (yes, I’m late to the party, but that’s nothing unusual!) and am finding them very meaningful.
Today I read a quote…The healing mechanism inside us perfectly matches the one outside. The human body does not look like the green meadow, but its breezes, its laughing water, sunlight, and earth were merely transformed into us, not forgotten.
(Journey Into Healing: Awakening the Wisdom Within you)
This speaks to me enormously. I think that if one is aware enough, mindful enough, one feels things that are not immediately explicable. When I have what I call a soul-feeding moment, I don’t always understand why it is so comforting, so soothing, so satisfying. But I think this is a wonderful way of putting it into words, a good way of understanding what is happening here. I am not separate from the external world. I am not a discrete whole; I am merely a portion of the life and energy force that pervades all reality, but I am that portion collected into a finite package, a defined area. So I think of myself as separate but really, I’m not. I’m a part of that energy, that life force, and the boundaries that define what I call “me” are not solid or fixed, they are fluid and permeable. So the energy flows into me, and out of me, and what I am seeing and feeling – the breeze, the sunlight, the play of light on water and the shadows of the trees – these are all manifestations of that energy flow. They are affecting the energy flow within me. If they are things with positive associations, then they are causing positive energy flow, and if they are things with negative associations, the flow is negative.
Another thing that Dr. Chopra says in that book is “We are the only creatures on earth who can change our biology by what we think and feel.” and “We perceive, which means we add meaning to every signal coming our way.”
Because we think, because we are conscious and aware, because we know and interpret and observe the energy flow, we can affect it. We can influence it, for good or ill. All too often, I think we influence it negatively, without ever knowing it. My desire is to begin to influence it positively and consciously, knowing that I am doing so; to use my awareness and my sentience to create healing and strengthening energy rather than allowing my thoughtlessness and self-absorbed negativity to create weakness and ill-health in myself and the world around me. I want to stop thinking of myself as a separate being and be aware of myself as a part of the endless flow around and through me.
This is a little scary. It feels a little like a loss of identity and I think that is why we resist it. But I want to learn to know it as not a loss of self, but as a greater knowing of self. I am not separate but while I am in this life, in this form, I am defined, and that definition – though it is mutable and I can affect it – is what makes me, me. I want to learn to know myself as both unique and individual, and still part of the whole.
Filed under: Health and Fitness, Rants, Self-Respect, Social Commentary, Womanhood, weight loss, women's issues
Forgive me…I will warn in advance that this is angry and opinionated and…hostile.
But I mean, honestly. Sometimes people make me so angry I could cry. Here is this father, who is a fashion designer, talking about the sobering discovery that his daughter has an eating disorder, and lamenting the unrealistic standards of the fashion industry that help to create situations like this.
And several comments down, here’s this troll commenting that a size 10 to 12 is only average because Americans are all fat, and we shouldn’t pretend that’s acceptable. And meanwhile, she is a size zero and perfectly healthy. (She’s responding to a somewhat angry comment that the father’s promotion of a size 4 to 6 is not any better than the fashion industry standard of 0 to 2. I thought that comment was a bit overheated too, though I agreed.)
I only commented (mine is about number 41 or so) because I couldn’t reach “J”, to knock her the f&*k out. And it is so good that I couldn’t because I don’t think I’d have stopped kicking her when she lost consciousness…
Am I the only person who is sick to utter death at these women who help perpetuate the myth that we all need to be a particular size? Please don’t misunderstand me…I am on a journey here, striving for the utter limit of good health and wellness and fitness, and I don’t intend to stop ever because, well, you can’t. You don’t get there and then go on vacation. It’s for life. But…
I also accept that “healthy” for me is not the same as “healthy” for someone else. At a size 16/18, I was horribly unhealthy. I was heading for an early grave. At a size 8, I’m in pretty darned good shape. But I know women who, at a size 16/18, are in great shape. They’re strong, they have excellent medical test results, they are athletic, they are happy. For them, health is not about a number or a measurement or a BMI or anything else. I also know women who are a size 2, who can’t carry a damned 24-pack of bottled water and couldn’t finish a 5K if their lives depended on it. It’s not about a number on the scale or the tape measure.
Why do we do this to our daughters? Our sisters, our mothers, our nieces and friends? Ourselves? I am so, so sad. Because it’s bad, it’s really bad, when the faceless media does it to us. It’s unforgiveable when we do it to each other.
Madelaine Albright said, “There’s a special place in hell for women who do not help other women.” I believe that. And as far as I’m concerned, “J” has a one-way ticket. If that’s overly hostile…okay. I can live with that.
Filed under: About Me, Fear and Pain, Happiness and Joy, Life Lessons, Psychobabble, Random thoughts, Self-Respect
Goofy title, I know. I’m okay with that.
Something about the end of the year tends to turn me introspective – I’m sure I’m not alone in that. In the past, it has all too often taken the form of sadness and nostalgia, thoughts of what I’ve left undone, what I may never do, what I wish I could have/do/be/see…negatives, in other words.
This year, however, I feel that I have made enormous progress. I have learned so much. I have been forced, through the exigiencies of life, to become stronger and wiser and more pragmatic and realistic. And, by a delightfully shocking quirk of fate, happier.
This year, I have no thoughts of loss or regret. I have no thoughts of resentment or deprivation, of what I’ve been cheated of. Partly that is due to the fact that, in the past year and a half, I have taken control of my own life and health. I have changed my eating habits and started exercising, and consequently lost around 45 pounds, which is great. I am more excited about the control than the weight, though, to be honest. I have also taken control of my financial situation and started truly working toward getting out of debt. I have stepped up to the plate in so many ways, taken responsibility for my own stupidity and excesses in the past, and I have changed my life as a result.
It has not, for one second, been easy. Much of it has not been fun. Most of it has been hard, painful, exhausting, and I’ve wanted to lie down, give up, and cry so many times I can’t even count them. But the cumulative result is this enormous sense of happiness, contentment, and self-respect that I currently find in myself. Who would have thought?
So…to get back to the reason for the title…
From the time I hit puberty – at age 10 – I have suffered, all my life, with depression and anxiety. When I was 13, I attempted suicide. Fortunately, I was stupid and didn’t know how to do it, and failed. Thank God. But at the time, I truly wanted to die. Most of that was chemical – I was loved, nurtured, and cherished as a child, and I really had no cause for unhappiness or complaint in my home life. I did inherit some fairly unpleasant tendencies to chemical imbalances, however, and those showed up pretty early. So I spent the next twenty-some years fighting with severe depression, anxiety and panic disorders, and various self-destructive tendencies that created some serious havoc with my life, my marriage, everything. I have taken various antidepressants and anxiety medications; I have undergone biofeedback sessions; I have learned meditative and alternative techniques. I’ve been around the block a time or two, and most of these things were very successful for me to a greater or lesser degree. I haven’t done anything that I would say “just didn’t help”. It all helped, but it didn’t get rid of the underlying issues.
When I was about 28, I started going to therapy. My reason for this was that I was angry literally all the time. I was angry at myself, my husband, my kids, my boss, my car, my house, my shoes, the people I worked with, the clouds in the sky, certain tall buildings in Beijing…you name it. I was just pissed off, and it was making my life and the lives of my loved ones sheer and utter hell.
Anger, you see, was empowering for me. Fear – which was what I REALLY felt – was not. Fear immobilizes; anger galvanizes. So I learned, over the course of 25 years or so, to mutate my fear into anger, because then I could cope. I could act on that. What I didn’t realize was that I was acting in a way that was making all my fears come true.
So I started therapy, hoping to learn some coping mechanisms that would help me deal with the anger. What I got instead…well, sometimes you don’t get what you want, you get what you need. I got the most amazing therapist on the planet, IMO, who instead of teaching me to deal with the anger, instead taught me to recognize and deal with the fear. She taught me – made me – dig it out, figure out where it came from and why, and address it. She made me fix myself.
When I ended therapy after nearly two years, I knew that I had learned some incredible lessons and been given some invaluable tools for coping with life’s curveballs. I was stronger, more self-aware, wiser…and I had a handle on my own emotional issues.
Then my husband and I entered the most difficult phase of our marriage, which resulted in a thankfully short-lived separation and near divorce. We got through it, and our relationship became much stronger, and I became an even stronger person. I knew that without the therapy, I could not have endured that, and I thought, “Cool! Now I’m really done. I’m fixed!”
What I didn’t realize then was that the therapy was only the beginning of a long process. I thought I was a much better, stronger, wiser person after therapy – and I was. But I still wasn’t all that happy. I still focused on what life wasn’t giving me, instead of what I had. I still hid things. I still pretended, even to myself, that things were other than what they were.
I’ve only just realize that that doesn’t mean therapy failed. Because when the inevitable denouement came and I was forced to face up to the lies I’d been telling myself and others – I handled it. I came clean. I dealt. I didn’t get angry…I didn’t become consumed with crippling guilt and self-doubt. I faced it, I admitted it, I took responsibility, and I developed a plan to fix the damage I had done.
And for the first time in my life, at the end of this year, I am happy. I am content. I am not complacent, and there are things I fear and am worried about and don’t like…but I like my life. I don’t feel cheated or resentful…I don’t wonder what things would be like if I could only (insert event of choice here, whether it’s winning the lottery or finishing college or whatever). And I know that no matter what happens in the future, even if all my fears are realized, I can survive it. I can live through it. It may not be easy, but I can do it.
So…though the process has been long and is, no doubt, still incomplete – to my wonderful former therapist: Thank you. Again. And still. And always.
Filed under: Happiness and Joy, Life Lessons, Psychobabble, Random thoughts
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about happiness, and where it comes from, at least in my own life.
It started with one of those stupid MySpace surveys – the ones that are all so similar but somehow trigger my OCD just enough that I can’t keep from posting them anyway. One of the questions nearly always is, “If you could go back in time and change one thing, what would it be?” Now, being way too introspective for my own good, I always give these questions serious thought, and when I get to that one, my answer is always, “Nothing. Because everything happens for a reason and everything that has happened has led me here, and I am happy with where I am.”
Which begs the question of why I am so happy where I am? What is it about my life that makes me so unwilling to change any of it?
Let me give you a synopsis: I am 35 (not young and dewy-eyed); I am about 20 pounds overweight (not all hot and irresistible, no matter what my Target boyfriends tell me); I work two jobs and still barely manage to make ends meet and work toward getting out of debt (not rich or privileged). When I am not working, I spend all of my time at home, usually cleaning or doing laundry or trying to catch up on wife/Mom stuff that I have neglected because of the two jobs. I don’t spend much (hardly any!) time hanging out with friends because I don’t have the time. I tolerate my jobs, I don’t love either of them…
So I’m not young, rich, gorgeous, or privileged. I’m not a social butterfly. I don’t have everything I want, though I do have everything I need. So what is there about my life that is so perfect, that I wouldn’t want to change it?
Here’s what I’ve come up with:
I am not young…but I am still in the best years of my life. I am so much more confident and happy in my own skin than I was when I was young. I don’t obsess over whether people like me anymore, or whether I have made someone angry at me. I am in touch with my inner bitch, as well as my inner goddess, and I am okay with people being responsible for their own emotions. If they don’t like me…not really my problem. If they do…great, but that’s not the centerpiece of my world.
I’m not gorgeous – but I am not unattractive either. I don’t kid myself that I’m particularly hot, but I do, on occasion, get second glances. More importantly, I am confident enough in myself and my sexuality, and it shows in the way I carry myself – and for that reason above all, I have definitely gotten second glances. Though I am still a little overweight, I am changing that steadily and am healthier now than I ever could have DREAMED of being 15 years ago, and than most 20 year-olds can claim to be now.
I’m not rich, God knows – but I have learned so much about the value of money – and what value it doesn’t have. I have learned that being able to buy whatever you want is nowhere near as freeing and joyful as knowing that you are in complete accord with the one you love, and that there are no secrets or omissions between you. Working two jobs, difficult as it is, is so much less stressful and horrible than trying to juggle payments without letting my husband find out just how bad my situation was. Money is important, and it’s so important to be financially stable – but money is not ever going to make me happy. Love, family, and an honest, self-responsible life are.
And that’s the center of it, really. Because I am so blessed. I have a husband whom I love, more than I ever even knew. He loves me, more than I ever knew. He accepts me – he doesn’t hesitate to call me on it when I’m being irrational or overly bitchy or irresponsible…but he’s not unkind to me. He knows me inside out and he accepts me for who I am…and forgives me for my occasional bouts of extreme brainlessness. And every now and then, he does something so wonderful and amazing and unbelievable that it takes my breath away. And in between times, he brings me enormous joy every time I look at him or hear his voice or he touches me in passing…
I have two exquisite daughters, both of whom are a joy to me as much as they are a trial. I am constantly racking my brain to try to be sure I am doing the right things with them, and often feeling that I’ve failed – but I wouldn’t trade a second of it, because they are beautiful and precious and smart and funny and I adore every thing about them. Even the bad stuff. It’s part of what makes them who they are, and though I do want to teach them how to control themselves and to behave properly, so that they can get along in the world without making things unduly horrible for themselves – I do not want to change them. They are, in their very imperfection, perfect.
I have a nice home – it’s not anything extraordinary or outrageous, but it’s nicer than I ever thought I’d have, when I was younger. I have a very steady, stable job at which I am given significant responsibility and trusted to be competent; I have another job that is helping me get out of debt, and at that job, too, I am given a surprising amount of trust and respect. I have the amazing privilege of working with people (not all of them, but some) who I can honestly say I love, value, and respect for their integrity, intelligence, wit, and (in some cases) near-fatal charm. I am privileged to spend time, almost daily, with people who make me laugh and brighten my world just that much more.
My life is not perfect; not nearly. There are things I would like to have – I would like to be completely out of debt, I would like to be able to go places and do things that are currently out of reach for more reasons than just money, I would like to be able to quit work and focus on writing, I would love for my kids to have straight As and perfect behavior in school…
But I don’t need those things to be happy. I don’t need the promotion, though I’d like it…I don’t need more money, though it would make things easier…I have what I need. I have what it takes to bring me joy, and contentment. And what more, really, can anyone ask for?
So it seems to me, in the final analysis, that being happy is not about what you have or what you do or what you are…it’s about what you know. It’s about what you can see – can you see the joy in these things? Are you looking up, or looking down? Are you looking at what you’re striving for, or at what you already have? Because ambition, though it can be valuable, can also be an insidious poison – if you are constantly striving for something, can you ever take the time to be happy with what you’ve already achieved?
Keeping your eye on the prize is a great thing – but sometimes you already have the prize. Sometimes all your work and effort is really just about holding on to the prize you already have, not about winning the next one.
At least, that’s my conclusion. I have my prize. It’s simple and most people probably wouldn’t think it’s much of a prize – but I can’t imagine a better one.
Well, it’s December again, already. It’s hard to believe; this year has flown by. I know that as we get older, time seems to pass more quickly, but I really feel that I have just about missed this year.
Part of the issue is that when you work in retail, it sort of changes Christmas for you. It’s hard to be surrounded by so much Christmas regalia all the time and not get a little desensitized to it. So I haven’t had much Christmas spirit really, and the idea that it could be nearly December just seemed really alien.
Then Scott and the girls decided to decorate the house and the yard while I was at work Saturday, and I came home to a glorious Christmas panoply. I have to say, seeing it all day is not the same as seeing YOUR Christmas decorations, in YOUR home. Particularly when you drive up late in the evening, it’s dark, and all the Christmas lights are lit up. It was a very special, wonderful feeling, and they gave me an amazing end to a very trying day. Absolutely glorious.
Part of the problem, too, is just being so busy all the time. Working two jobs, particularly at this time of the year, leaves little time for reflection or noticing the passage of time. So even though I see the stuff all the time, it has sort of snuck up on me that, yeah, it’s time to get the shopping done. Only 22 more days, as the girls’ countdown calendar advised me this morning. Yikes!
So I’m thinking as I walk out the door that, you know, I just can’t seem to get in the spirit. I can’t believe it’s December and I just don’t feel like…and then it hits me. Literally hits me, right in the nose – snow.
Okay, it’s barely snow. Little tiny flakes, not even really flakes, and barely spitting down so that you have to squint and stare at a particular spot to even see it, but by God, it’s snow. And everything changed.
I miss snow so much. When I was growing up in Oklahoma, we had snow every winter, lots of it. Not all the time, and not always on Christmas, but by Christmas we’d usually had a few good snowfalls. Here in Charleston, it doesn’t snow that often, and when it does it doesn’t often amount to much or last very long. So I miss that. I miss the bitter, biting cold and the Arctic winds and the honest-to-God snow. Those are the things that I always expect from Christmas time, and I think one of the reasons that I’ve had trouble in the past few years feeling very Christmas-y.
So although I expect that we probably won’t have much in the way of snow, I am very grateful for the little spate we had this morning. I needed that. Maybe now I can start to have a little of that generous, loving, joyful Christmas spirit. I hope so!
I am a coward.
I have built myself a framework – a safety net, if you will – of rules and regulations and restrictions and conventions. My job, my home, my bank account, my children’s schools, my doctors’ appointments, my online blogs…these are all a part of the framework, the safety net. They all make me feel safe, and secure, and neatly slotted into my nice, safe, normal niche in life.
I know this because:
Yesterday, at lunch, I was sitting in the car at the gas station, waiting for a friend to come back after paying for gas. I was watching the cars go by, as they entered and exited the interstate, and thinking – as I always do – about who might be in them and where they might be going. Something about the day – the weather, perhaps, which was gray and rainy and gloomy, and cold – or about my own mood, gave me the oddest sensation that these people were all free as birds, going who knew where, while I was securely tied to the earth. I did not envy them.
I couldn’t help wondering if the guy in the old red Pontiac was on a road trip, headed to an unknown destination. Was the woman in the little Toyota running from something? Had she just quit her job and emptied her bank account and taken off to points unknown?
Why would I have these thoughts? One might speculate that they indicate a repressed desire in me to do exactly that – just cut all ties and fly away. But I didn’t find them appealing…I found them frightening. The idea of being in the car, driving, but not to anywhere…not having a job I have to be at the next day, not having kids to be picked up from school, not having bills to be paid on a particular day or a home to be cared for or a paycheck to ensure…was terrifying to me.
So that led me to wonder why? Why would I not WANT that, that ultimate freedom of having no responsibilities, no one to answer to, no one to take care of? Wouldn’t that be wonderful? But it didn’t seem wonderful to me; it seemed terrifying and heartbreaking and awful.
The fact that I have a job (okay, jobs) ensures that I get a paycheck. That paycheck ensures that I have a place to live and can pay my bills. If I want that security – a roof over my head every night, and knowing where it will be, and food to eat and each day a safe environment – then I must follow very strict rules and routines. Get up, get the kids to school, go to work, come home, make sure the kids are picked up, fed, etc…ad nauseam. I should feel trapped by all that – but I don’t. I feel safe and comforted.
To me, the most frightening thing in the world is not knowing what to expect. I did not realize that about myself until just now. Everything that I fear – death, old age, divorce, an empty nest, losing a job, having a serious health condition, going on a new ride at the amusement park for heaven’s sake – all comes down to that. They are all situations in which I do not know what to expect, and that is bone-chillingly terrifying to me.
It seems blindingly obvious, now, that this is at the root of my compulsive planning and organizing and list-making; I am not just a naturally organized person who has a talent for creating order from chaos (though I do) – I am borderline obsessive-compulsive because I am terrified of disorder!
I knew that I had control issues. I thought that I had dealt with them to some extent, but I find that the fear of a loss of control – of not knowing where I am headed and having no way of steering – is worse now than it ever was. It just hides now, under and behind other things. That is sobering and saddening to me, because I don’t want to be timid. Timidity is not a positive trait, to my mind. I wish I knew how to conquer this particular fear…perhaps if my faith were stronger, and I could simply trust that someone is taking care of me, I could deal with it more rationally. But as it stands, I am petrified of the unknown, to the extent (evidently) that I perseverate about it at odd times and seemingly without provocation.
Historically, having unsolicited thoughts like this has meant that an issue I have been avoiding is rearing its ugly head, demanding to be recognized. I am afraid of that, as well – my fear is so great in this context that I am afraid to even think about it, but I can’t help it. It almost sounds like it may be time for therapy again…but I dread that too. It’s never an easy process, and to get to the dawn you have to first go through the night.
I am afraid of so many things, for someone who considers herself fairly assertive and bold. I don’t like that about myself.
Well, it seems that I really should be able to get something useful out of all this drama and angst that I have been experiencing lately…so let’s see where we can wander with it.
I am turning 35 in two days. Now, I am sort of odd in that the big “milestone” birthdays – 21, 30, 40 – have never seemed like a big deal for me. 30 was nothing…25 packed quite a punch though, philosophically speaking, and it appears that 35 will do the same.
I think it makes me feel a little old…not as in “aged” but as in “dated”. So yesterday, in other words. 35 is not the age of someone you lust after, it’s the age of someone’s mom. It’s a minivan age…a mammogram age…a moisturizer-with-retinol and soy-supplement age. It’s not a sexy age…it’s a mature age. It’s an age where you don’t try to appeal to young men, you try to mother them.
Part of me thinks I should care about that…part of me doesn’t want to care. Part of me wants to be sexy and attractive and alluring…and part of me thinks it’s really a lot of fuss over nothing and is sort of anticipating a time of my life when that doesn’t have to be my priority.
Except it does…my husband wants me to be sexy and alluring and attractive, so I will care for him, though I don’t care for myself. I want to look my best, but I don’t care if anyone finds it sexy! But I will care, I guess, for him.
I am scared of getting older, because of the physical limitations it will impose. I do not want to be unable to do things because of my physical condition. I do not want to develop thinning hair and poor eyesight and muscles and joints that will not do as they are told; I do not want to be dependent upon others for things. I do not want my world to shrink to the size of a small apartment, and the voices that I hear on the phone or the words I read in emails. I do not want to begin to shrink, when I do not feel that I am finished growing!
Much of this is prompted by watching Mother, the past few days. She was hospitalized for pneumonia, because she did not go to the doctor for treatment as she had assured me she had done. My long weekend at the cabin was cut short – it amounted to one night – and I came home to be with her. Which is fine, I don’t begrudge her that – but it really made me stop and think about things.
I cannot ever be very far away – because I don’t know when she might need me, and there is no one else here to care for her. She can’t do things for herself – and it breaks my heart. It destroys me, one little piece at a time, to watch this woman who was my rock, who bore me and nourished me and nurtured me and sustained me, slowly becoming helpless. It gnaws at my soul to watch as she has to wait for someone to take notice of her before she can perform simple life functions – to know that if I do not do things for her, she must go without them being done because she cannot do it herself. I cannot bear to think of her lying in a hospital bed, needing something, and not getting it because a nurse hasn’t gotten around to it yet – and she can’t do anything about it. She is at the mercy of those around her – this woman who arranged my world for so many years to keep me safe and sheltered and protected, now cannot even protect herself. So it falls to me to do it.
And it is fair, I know that, and I do not resent it…I do not think, “It’s not fair, why should I have to…” I don’t. My reluctance is not in the nature of resentment or defiance…it is in the nature of heartbreak, because it is not fair. It is not right. What did she do, or not do, to relegate herself to this fate? She was a good woman, a good wife, a good mother, a good grandmother. She was never perfect, but no one is, and her imperfections were in the nature of loving too much, of giving too much, of trying too hard not to hurt or make unhappy. She erred on the side of love and generosity and tenderness, always. So why, why is this her fate? How is this fair?
Worse, I see the slow and gradual progression toward further decline. I know that in the coming years, she will be able to do less and less, and will require more and more from me. I can foresee the future in that I know that she will not experience a sudden death, but rather a gradual decline that will be worse, harder, more brutal, for those around her than any sudden cessation could ever be. She will become helpless to the extent that she will require constant care, and that was always her worst fear. I cannot do it for her – I am not in a position financially to be able to quit work and render round-the-clock care, and so it will have to be strangers. Her very worst fear of all, and mine for her. I will be visiting her and trying to talk to her, and she will not know me, or if she does, she won’t understand what the situation is. I know this; I can see it, and I am terrified. I do not want this for her!! She deserves a long, healthy life, and a quick, easy, peaceful death. I truly believe this, but I cannot give it to her. I do not have that power.
I am scared, so scared, of the pain and trauma of watching her decline and knowing her suffering…and I am also scared that it will happen to me, as well. I have always seen my life as paralleling hers, though in most ways it really hasn’t, and I cannot shake this terrible fear that not only must I watch her go through it, but that one day I will be traveling that same path and my own daughters must make the choices about my care. I am so afraid…and there is nothing at all I can do about it.
I guess I am feeling not only my own mortality, but my own fleshly inadequacies. Death is not so much my fear right now, as decline.
Though I am thinking about death as well, as I always do. I am afraid of that also. I am far too strongly attached to this world and I fear and dread leaving it behind. I do not know what comes after, no matter what my beliefs – I cannot visualize it. And what if there really is no after, and I just stop? I will no longer be, and I cannot imagine that. What is the point to an end of suffering and pain, if you cannot enjoy it?
And what of those I leave behind? How can I do that to my children? How can I leave such an emptiness, such a vacuum, in their lives? No matter their ages, there will be a vacuum, and it tears me apart to think of it. They need me and I cannot imagine leaving them behind to wonder why, to think of all the things that I will never be able to do with them or that they will never be able to say to me…
Death seems more real, more possible, with every day you live, and it scares me. I have lived for 35 years and many many people don’t live any longer than that. I am at an age where every day from here on is questionable. At this age, everything starts to become more common – cancer, heart disease, stroke, you name it. I feel that I’m living on borrowed time and it scares me terribly; my babies are still so young.
I know I think about it too much, but I can’t help it. That’s what I do. I think.
