Finally, 3 days later, a moment to intentionally release my
shrugged shoulders, roll them down my back and breathe. Isn’t it funny how all “breath”
is life-giving, but sometimes there almost seems to be a hierarchy and some “deep
breaths” feel more tangibly, “life sustaining” than others?? Yet in truth,
every single one of them is equally as paramount as the others.
It’s been a long week. A long week at work, a long week
emotionally and a long week physically. I’m spent and have been spent since
about Monday afternoon. I’ve learned first hand this week (for the umpteenth time) that saying yes to something,
invariably means saying no to something else. And lately the “no” has been to
any sense of personal time, rejuvenation and replenishment, by way of super
absent self care.
I don’t know why consistent self care has been such an all
of nothing feat for me. In my single days, I did stellar with it. Like Superstar,
loose 90pounds kind of self-TLC, but the minute I am sharing a home and gold
bands …”poof” the struggle ensues – all over again, after 6 years of perfecting
it for the first time ever, in my early 40’s no less. Sadly, for me, self-care
always is the last on the list -----until I crash. And I am crashing.
Fortunately, a respite is near. No, not fortunately, thank GOD, literally,
Thank you sweet, 5lb, 6oz sweet baby Jesus for my pending reprieve, Amen AND
Hallelujah!
I’m not sure why exactly I feel so spent, other than, my new
role marries both physical exhaustion from my constant moving, walking,
bending, loading, lugging WITH emotional exhaustion. And I don’t say that to
mean my job isn’t incredibly rewarding, but for any of us that deal with people
all day, as opposed to numbers or technology, I venture to say, the engagement
looks a bit different & therefore the investment of time, caring,
consideration, just being a good listener is needed. Even for a self proclaimed
Chatty Cathy (or Cindi, as it were) such as myself…it takes energy. Which I am
happy to give, but those two aspects, coupled with zero self care….well, that’s
not my sweet spot. And I tend to Go Big or Go home on the giving side, not in
reasonable rations to be sure I keep something back for my husband, my kids,
myself. I think a lot of us are like that.
We are relentless achievers/doers/givers at the expense of our own health and
well being. Across my life I remind
myself the airline schpeel, “Put your oxygen mask on yourself first, before assisting
anyone else.” Makes perfect sense, but I stink at being intentional about doing
just that.
This week one of my very best friends laid her Daddy to
rest, I was at her house a few hours after she heard the news of his passing
and present at his service earlier this week.
I was equally shocked and yet felt a sense of “knowing” regarding how
his sudden, unexpected passing had me hyper anxious all week and my emotional
tank idling on fumes the last few days.
This was the first death since my Mom passed. Funny, I haven’t cried about my Mom in
months, but I’ve cried more the past week than I have in months!! It is always
so shocking how just barely under the surface my loss, grief, frustration,
guilt, sadness and overwhelming sense of “orphan” can be…especially when I have
barely shed a tear in my day in day out goings on- prior.
To watch someone you love in pain, is one of the most
heartwrenching feelings we can experience. I felt that way with my Mom and I
was reminded of it with my friend, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. I wouldn’t.
Call me Suzy Sunshine or Pollyanna, whatever, I’ve been called both many times,
but I emphatically believe that at our core, we all ALL share the same
longings. The means to “get there” might look very different, but I believe at
our core; our humanness transcends.
My grief counsellor and I talked and still talk about my new
role and the recent loss of my Mom. I am literally every day, facing one of my
biggest fears…aging/disease/losing my independence by walking into work. Are there
people full of vigor and life- of course- lots! But at an Assisted Living and
Memory Care Community, you can’t hide from the fact that we are ALL aging,
every day- we’re growing older- every last one of us.
I’ve always had a fear of disease and dying. Always. I’ve
taken courses, read books and literally held the hands of not one, but two family
members as they took their final breaths. I don’t care who you are, experiencing that changes something in you
forever. Both the same final outcome, but two very different outlooks for me
about the process. For my grandpa, it was so peaceful, he always said he wouldn’t
go to hospice and the day we made arrangements for his discharge, in his mid 80’s,
was the day he pulled his oxygen tubes out of his nose and said “no more”, and
passed within hours. He really meant it, he wasn’t going to hospice. We were
reciting the Lord’s Prayer as he passed – as strange as some may think this
sounds, it was beautiful. So incredibly beautiful. We all had said our peace
and goodbyes and let him go. With my Mom, it was so different. She had just
turned 70, was cancer free and has grandchildren to watch graduate and get
married and start families and in truth, even at 45, I still need her. Perhaps
she felt that way still about her own dad, my Grandpa, when he passed in his 80’s,
but I had and still have an overwhelming sense of “I’m not ready to let her go”
No, not yet. I still need her. This coupled with the traumatic events in the days
and hours leading up to her death- had everything EXCEPT peaceful or beautiful
tied to it. It wasn’t. She was unresponsive but would cry out HELP ME, or look
right through me seemingly and plea, “Help me Mom, it hurts, Mom help me”
before her pain was well managed, as the bulk of her major organs began failing
in quick succession. Here she was dying from complications of a drug to fight a
recurrence of a cancer that only 3% of the population get to begin with, 1% of
those being Caucasian and was in the under 5% that die from complications of
drug therapy. The worst case scenario, seems pretty damn feasible – frequently
to me know. That “Oh it’s rare” “That never happens” – is something I often
struggled with dismissing, but I REALLY struggle now, because a series of
events that individually “never” happen- happened. To my Mom. I read all about the statistics and the complications
(over 120 pages worth) evaluating the feasibility of said statistics with my
Mom and she decided to move forward, with my endorsement. Of course there is still much I am processing,
at almost 9 months later, the death of loved ones of those around me is going
to reignite some of those complex feelings all over again, but I so rarely give
them the time to bubble up. Instead they are felt unrecognizably as insomnia, aggravation,
busyness, anxiety, or avoidance.
I continue to strive each day to “be a better version of
myself than I was yesterday” and in doing so, I push on, through the discomfort
in an effort to expand my capacity for compassion- the trick is to extend that not
just to others, but myself as well.
