Nothing

Deb: In the last few weeks, I’ve had some physical episodes. I will not go into what they were as it doesn’t really matter, but they were alarming and puzzling. I have had problems with stress before and my attempts at channeling it. I am genetically pre-disposed to this stress condition, as my Mom has had many many issues over the years with this very thing. My Mom is a stroke survivor and, in support of this theory, they told her at the hospital that she stroked-out from stress. She had no blockages they could find and no medical issues that would have lead her to such a thing. When she was younger, in her fifties, she had several incidents of hives from stress. She would break out in them and scratch till she bled. I have the same symptom but to a much lesser degree. At one point, my Mom was so covered in hives, so completely covered from head to toe, in her nose and ears and around her eyes, that her face changed shape and she looked like a completely different person. I think this was her form of a nervous breakdown and she was hospitalized. My granny, Mom’s Mom, had a complete nervous breakdown when she was the same ballpark of age.

So this legacy of unpasteurized stress is my cross to bear. But I have had advantages and resources to call upon that Mom and Granny did not have. For one, I knew this years ago and started to do something about it. Actually, many things about it. Some major and some minor things. I know that I have reduced my stress level by leaps and bounds, but every once in a while...

As most of you know it has been a painful period of time for me regards my parents and their ever-changing condition. I get upset and feel pushed and pulled, confused and challenged, but I always come home and chill with some wine and some husband and some good food and movies. I am very good at knowing when I have hit bottom. But lately, although I have been carving out some time for me, I have still found myself facing some odd and very new symptoms. Then I realized that it is not just about taking the time out of a busy and stressful day, it is about channeling the sadness and pain that my parents situation brings, and that is not as easy. I realize now that the sadness I feel has latched onto my heart and my psyche and it is silently doing its damage. And that doesn’t go away just with a nap or a quiet glass of wine on the deck. So here is what I decided to do these last few weeks.

NOTHING.

I have given myself permission to just do nothing. And by nothing I don’t mean stare in a catatonic state out the window. But to really just hang out. Life of course goes on so in the day there are a few calls that I must make and a few errands that must be done but other than that, I am sitting and reading and playing with the pups. I am enjoying the garden and floating in the pool. I know this might sound like no big deal to some of you, but for the likes of me to do nothing is like nothing I have ever done before. Not in my home. Not unless I am a guest at a cottage or that type of thing. And even then.

I implemented a new scheme in my life.  I get up, make breakfast, sit outside, and read my book. First. I have NEVER done this before. I will read my book and then if I have time I will get to the newspaper, and maybe if I have some more time I will “visit” Facebook. But I really wanted to read my books. And my feeling was, if the day gets away from me, then at least I am comforted to know that I have read for an hour in the morning. A dear friend said to me when I told her of my plan, “Be careful you don’t become obsessed with this plan, forcing yourself no matter what comes to read and then be disappointed if you don’t. You know how we are!” I assured her that so far that was not happening, but I knew what she meant. The not doing is not in her nature and it is not in mine. So I thought, “Wow, am I forcing myself to relax?” In my panic to become stress-free, am I panicking? In the midst of panicky panic and counter panic and non-panic tactics, how does one tell?

So I just really took a dramatic step back from the every day of it, the do of it, the on top of it. And I fell into the do-nothing and when I landed, I did not struggle and scrape to get up. I laid back literally and figuratively and gave myself this gift. Gave it with love, and then, rather than open this gift, I just stared at it, all wrapped up knowing that I already knew what was inside and didn’t even have to open it. As a result, this de-stressing has become a lovely lovely habit that I am not ready to quit.

I am normally the woman who cannot read a magazine in the middle of the day lest I feel guilty. But no more. Hart made a comment in a blog last week about North American society and the fact that we cannot just give ourselves a break. We cannot just let go and take holidays and time off in the middle of a stressful day without being wracked with guilt. Hart was right and I am a very bad offender. The guilt stacks up in my body so high that I sometimes feel I am choking on it. Nobody is doing this to me. I am doing this to myself. And it must stop. And I am working on it. Or rather I am anti-working on it. At the risk of sounding like a drama queen, my life may one day depend upon it.

Barbara: You are so not a drama queen, Deb. So very far from it, in fact, that I am beyond relieved to hear that you have found a concerted and gentle plan to de-stress and cope with what is, for all intents and purposes, one of life’s seriously difficult life-challenges. Thanks so much for your honesty through this—and by that I mean, for the honesty with yourself that then coalesces into honesty with us. Because we all go through these times, we just don’t always recognize the absolute need for our own concerted coping strategies. We really do have to step back from the muck from time to time, guilt-free and bravely, if we’re ever going to survive the serious and heavy-duty business of emotional muck-racking. All our lives depend upon it!

Between A Rock And A Heart Place

Deb: When we are going through tough times, the lucky among us have so many safe havens in which to unload and unwind. But even those who cannot attach a friend or loved one to their worries and stresses, can reach for a multitude of platitudes. Multitude of Platitudes. Try saying that three times fast.

We all know how to cure what ails our worried souls. We all know how to sooth our panicked hearts and how to allay our fears and calm our tethered nerves. We know how to do these things because thanks to sappy over-sharing baby boomers (yes, I include myself) and the internet, they are everywhere, these quick and long fixes. And they work. Work wonders sometimes.

Right now I am stretched to the nines emotionally and have been for some time. I did not want to blog about the details and still don’t. I think anyone who knows me and who reads this blog knows that it is the sad and quickly changing stuff of my parents’ lives. But for now, that is all I will say on that subject. I am not prepared to divulge the details as many of the details are their own private business and, as a result, not mine alone to share.

What I will talk about is the getting on with it. These are the things I know. I know that frustration can be healed by breathing, stepping back, and seeing things from another point of view. I know that anger can be abated with meditation and chocolate and a glass of wine. And I know that my husband can make everything disappear with a gesture and a loving ear. This week my son responded to my cries on the phone with the most empathetic, “Mom, talk to me.” And I did. And like his father, he is a good listener. And he allowed my reservoir to drain a little. And my friends are there for me when I ask them to be, and sometimes when I don’t. I am an odd beast when stressed and sad. I tend to—very out of character for me—retreat and hide. Times like that, the only welcome guest outside of my husband is Doris Day. I wish Doris knew that she has served me better and more often than any guru could. She has been my rock. Not Hudson, mind you, but rock nonetheless.

The other great leveler in grasping times of need is the serenity prayer, which in itself is a wonder. I discovered years ago that the Twelve Steps are great rules for life in general, and they work for all things, not just addiction. And because I am not in any “program” a dear friend gave me a wonderful book called “The Twelve Steps For Everyone”. It has been a good friend.  I know the serenity prayer is well known but I will repeat it here.

God grant me the serenity

to accept the things I cannot change;

courage to change the things I can;

and wisdom to know the difference.

Great words. Perfect. True. And they work.

But ... what if I have accepted the things I cannot change, and I have forged ahead with blind and open minded courage to the things I can change, not only knowing the wisdom to differentiate, but appreciating that I am good at doing so.

And then ... what if you employ all these things and what if nothing works? What if I wake up every day thinking it’s going to be different and hoping we are going to take five steps forward and none back? What if every day I put on an optimist’s face and every day the steps retreat so far back, it makes the road itself harder and harder to see?

Well, I thought about this and I thought about this and I decided without a lick of a maudlin overtone that the fact is that there are some times in life that just have to be gotten through. Times when you are in the muck. And when you are in the muck, must you make mudpies? I don’t think so. I think sometimes you just have to be in the muck until it is dried up.

But that doesn’t mean that there aren’t diamonds to be grabbed and that’s exactly what I am doing. Desperately and voraciously I am grabbing at every damn diamond I can find. Some are hidden diamonds like the boy saying, “Mom, talk to me.” The gift of his openhearted time was diamond enough. Let alone that I got to drain the reservoir a little more. Then there was the dear friend who arrived, in her jammies, tea in hand, very early in the morning to just let me tell my tale. Then there was Barb with her emails saying, “I am here if you want to talk, I am here if you want to just know I am here. You don’t have to talk but I am here.” Then there was my husband, knowing how low I am and knowing how my daily workouts keep me sane, who showed up today with the first two seasons of Downton Abbey to watch in our home gym. Diamonds all!

And then there are the diamonds you have to seek out for yourself. The “Where’s Waldo?” of gleaming moments. The first crocus of the spring, the buds multiplying on the trees, the Facebook status a friend posts that makes you laugh, the fresh berries you bought today that tasted like July. The dogs who greet you every day like you have just won the Oscar, the lottery, and a lifetime supply of underwear. Am I being corny? Yes. Right now, corny looks lovely. Right now, “I’m as corny as Kansas in August.” Because to be corny is to be Doris Day. Doris who, on screen and in her real life, presented us the ultimate in cockeyed optimist and yet had muck up to her eyeballs in most of both. So what would Doris say? Que sera sera. What will be will be. And it may be muck sometimes.

It’s the keen eye in us that makes it the diamonds.

Barbara: Almost too emotional to respond, Deb. This was its own diamond to me. A diamond of blog-dom. A diamond of intimacy and heartfelt connection. A diamond of honesty. Yes, I do know it’s been tough on you and it’s heartbreaking for me to not be able to platitude and love it away. But such is life. And even if my own troubles and concerns aren’t of this tall, difficult order, you’ve given me enormous comfort today when I too am feeling down and out. It IS in the looking for diamonds amid the muck. That’s the only—ONLY—“trick” I’ve ever been able to absolutely count on in times of life-suckage. And all that aside, Deb: “I am here if you want to talk, I am here if you want to just know I am here. You don’t have to talk but I am here.”

Auto Focus

Deb: Barb’s quantum physics classes have brought many fascinating ideas to light and one of them is this idea of focus. Thank you, Barb, for Hocus Focus. My particular focus is that of a gadfly. It is not something I am particularly proud of, nor is it something I relish. But I struggle with my focus, which is why as I have mentioned my love for Transcendental Mediation and why it works for me. Trouble is, I keep forgetting to do it because every time I intend to, my mind flits to another idea or another task. I keep tons in my head. Tons. Really. Tons. I know that we all do so I am not setting myself up here as the busiest or the most pressured.

Although this is about me so...

The problem is, my brain is not orderly. My darn brain works as a catchall. Not a single filter in there. Every time I try to organize my brain into folders I will suddenly have a random thought and, as I turn my head to pursue it, all the ideas tumble out of my brain folders and onto my brain floor, scattered amongst the other grey matter (referring to my brain of course, not the fact that I am old). Although in fairness my hair is grey and I dye it. So full disclosure, from the neck up, I am technically all grey matter.

But, that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I lack focus.

A small example of this is that while I was writing the first paragraph, I got up four times: once to phone my parents, once to get tea, once to put the dry cleaning at the front door, and once to write down an idea for another blog. Actually, I lie. I really did all those things before I wrote the sentence, “My particular focus is that of a gadfly”, which is what inspired me to write that sentence. The real truth is that between that sentence and the end of the paragraph I also searched through my purse for a chocolate covered caramel that I knew I had put in there and wanted to have with my tea. It was there, as it turned out. I ate it and now I am on a roll.

Okay, now to the point of the blog. I have been focus experimenting. I have been making a point to think only of one thing at a time and seeing where it leads.

My first experiment went like this:

Last week, because spring/summer came early to Toronto I was walking along, with visions of phone calls, to do lists, ideas, worries and tasks in my head. As I walked I decided to clear my head of “shoulds” and focus on the day, the beautiful warm sunny day. So I did. My brain fought back for a bit, like it was resisting being squeezed into a bikini too early before it had a chance to use self tanner. But then ... then it relaxed and all it could see and all it could think of was the stunning rapturous March summer day. And then a feeling swept over me. And it was all encompassing. I was a teenager again and I was walking to school on that first really honest to goodness warm day after the winter. And my coat was tied around my waist and the sun was on my face and everything was new and filled with freedom and thoughts of boys, and I felt teenaged sexy and young, and the world was my oyster and all my dreams were possible, every single one of them!

Now the fabulousness of this focus experiment was that—and this is key to the understanding of it—I had none of these thoughts. None of them. But I had all of the feelings. I was transported. I was back there in that time!

But the really fantastic thing was that at the end of the focus experiment, I was left with the resulting buoyancy. I did not feel that these were memories of a state of being. I was left with a feeling of the possibility of me NOW. Sure it’s easy when you’re young to dump the tasks and worries and chores when you want to. Isn’t that what youth is? We always say that youth is wasted on the young. The idea, of course, is that if I had known when I was young what I could do and what I had going for me I would have done so much more bla bla bla.

But what I have realized is that youth is started on the young and finished whenever you want it to finish. If you’re smart, your youth won’t finish till you’re dead. What a revelation I had. I did the focus experiment to see if I could focus. That’s all. Focus. But the focus gave me a parting gift that I did not expect. It helped me to see that whatever is happening in my life, be it good or bad, it is not set in stone. I can change it, simply by changing it. I can prattle on and on about what could have been, or stress about issues I am grappling with till the cows come home.

Or, I can focus on something lovely and I can become anything I want.

Barbara: Okay, I love this post so much, I want to bite you. I want to squeeze your cheeks and kiss you. I want to laugh uproariously (which, by the way, I did several times while reading. Actual throw-my-head-back laughter) and I want to cry (which, by the way, I also did at the end there). This is just so so beautiful and true. True and Beautiful. And I think I’m feeling kinda freakishly euphoric right now because lately I too have experienced this amazing release of tension and fresh awareness of possibility. Lately, thanks to my recent exercises in focus, and thanks also to a lovely friend (waves at Shalaka) who sent me some guided meditations that I’ve actually been using, for the first time in my life I am practicing focus on a regular basis and it is all these things you speak of. Being in the clean, clear, wondrous moment. Being the best and sweetest part of yourself. Being here.

Thanks for playing, Deb, and for sharing your own experience with us! You guys???

PS a little fun sound-bite to you from Deb!

My Brain On Christmas

Barbara: This is my brain (or some variation thereof):

This is my brain on Christmas:

I know I blithely claimed a few weeks ago that after all these years of hosting Christmas I was accustomed enough to the whole to-do that I could “do it with my eyes closed”. And, yes, to a real extent this is true. All my lists are catalogued on the computer, shopping lists are at my fingertips, chores designed to flow one into the other. I know the recipes I will make so well, I won’t stress over them. I have a good enough track record hosting that if things go awry, I will let it roll off my back (short of getting sick or hurt—that’s always a bummer. Thinking of you, Lyndsie!!). And still, STILL, I truly feel that kaleidoscope brain coming on. As if my mind wants to go in a million different places—half dreamy sugar-plum wonderland places, half soldier-rigid endless-prism places.

I pride myself on my follow-through. Mostly because I’m pretty good at it. And you wanna know why? Because I do stuff right away. A task comes down the pipeline, a dream demands attention, and I deal with it. Because the truth is, if I don’t deal with it right away, I will forget. Guaranteed. (One of the problems with smart-phones is that I can receive and read an email early in the day but won’t be able to deal with it until later in the day, and so the risk gets upped of me ruining my follow-through track record. Morning email is easy to forget by end of day.)

But this dreamy/manic state I’m in right now undermines my best efforts at effortless control. I’m forgetting to go places, call people back, return emails. It’s not the end of the world. It’s just a bit disorienting. I’m going to rest on my past laurels and decide to let it roll off my back. After all, the holidays will pass, real life will kick back in, and I will slowly ratchet up back to my normal organized self.

For now, I’m going to keep changing the kaleidoscope image and admire its pretty colours. Maybe while I’m eating another chocolate square.

Deb: Dear Barbara,

                 I have really enjoyed reading this post ... who are you again?

                                        Love, Deb xo

Are You Afraid Of Change?

Barbara: First off, happy Labour Day to all of you who get to enjoy today’s holiday. I, for one, will be reveling with my best bud, Deb. The very best kind of “labour”.

But I do have a topic of discussion I want to throw out there for any of you who might want to play …. So here goes. Like the title asks: are you afraid of change?

The reason I’ve been mulling this question is because I’m back home now after an intense week of moving my daughter into her college apartment (she’s not in residence so there were a ton of unexpected chores to the whole “moving in” thing. Like scrubbing corners and hooking up internet and building beds and waiting for subletters to vacate.).

So I’m back home now and finding myself down in the doldrums. She is happy and I am happy for her and I am excited for the next phase of her life and my own, but mourning periods are sometimes both inevitable and necessary. Either way, they still suck.

And as I was wallowing in the doldrums of my exhausted blues, I wondered––as much as I’m looking forward to it––if I’m not just a little afraid of the next phase of my life. Not because I worry about it in any substantial way, but because this life is going to be inherently different. And then I began to think of all the friends I know and acquaintances I’ve spoken with over the years who are clinging to a way of life or an aspect of their lives that they frankly hate because they are more afraid of change. “The devil you know” and all that.

I was curious so I googled “stress list” and found the Holmes and Rahe Stress Scale. Now obviously there are a lot of truly horrible events on this list, like losing a loved one or getting a divorce. But I also want to point out that a lot of the events on here are positive events like “vacation” and “getting married” and “outstanding personal achievement” (?!). And if you look at the top of the chart you’ll see that the 43 events are rated on a scale of “life change units”. So obviously Holmes and Rahe recognized that “change” is the inherent, measurable part of stress.

So if change stresses us out, are we less liable to instigate it––even if it would benefit us enormously––just to, you know, keep the peace???

Deb: Barb this really got me thinking. Really. I was resistant to change all my life. Could oft be heard to say “I will never...” or “I will do it this way forever”. Since I hit my fifties and particularly in the last few years I have come to embrace change, and in some cases to welcome it. Not, as you said of a tragic nature, but change that brings the unexpected, the surprise the “wow, I didn’t know I liked that” kind of change. And, frankly, I adore it. I say, bring it on!!! Adventure, travel, a new experience, I am there. Our boy’s life is changing and growing and given that I am three years into that metamorphosis, I have come to embrace it. I think I started with faking trying to embrace change, and then evolved to embracing change, with reservations and finally SPLAT––CHANGE, Exploring. Discovering. That is what I want for this period of my life. And trust me, these are things I have really wrestled with this week. So they are fresh and some of them hurt. But they are clear. For me, change is growth. Wow, look at me, all growed up.