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Woke up this morning knowing I was going to feel awful. Just didn’t realize how awful. I haven’t felt this sick in a minute but the weather and the poison ivy and a whole bunch of things combined to bring me to my knees.
I got up. Showered. Went through the rhythms of morning routine – Athletic Greens and vitamins and omegas and green smoothies and neti pots and I threw in a nice facial steam to loosen up the junk in my sinuses. I’m feeling … okay. But I know that it will take a couple days to fully recover from this and I have an appointment with Dr. M tomorrow … so my timeline is somewhat truncated.
Having MS is a funny, constant struggle to figure things out without there ever being a definitive answer. And even though I know that there are no answers, that there will never be answers, that sometimes one thing will work and then it will not … even though I know all these things, I still search. Because if I’m not searching, then in some ways, that means I’ve given up. And I won’t waste this precious life I’ve been given feeling defeated.
Going to rest today. Try to take care of myself. Remind myself to give grace. To take a moment. To heal.
Happy Sunday.
Xox, g
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It was a snowy, stay at home kind of day today. I think I’m getting a cold. I’m exhausted, On the down swing yet again.
Xox, g
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There is something truly glorious about sitting down, freshly showered, to sip a hot chai and do some reading and writing. It feels indulgent but also so inherently perfect. The weather today is pretty gorgeous – mid-50s and sunny. Lucy could have spent all day sniffing tufts of grass on our walk.
Chai is one of my favorite parts of any day. It is happiness in a cup. I savor it, feel the tension relax in my shoulders and allow my taste buds to relish the glory that is a soy chai latte from Starbucks. Whether it’s a good day (like today) or a not-so-good day (like the past few) chai always makes it just a smidge better.
I’m finding that my weeks are usually a roller coaster of good and bad days … and I’m not sure what I’m going to get every morning when I wake up. I hope I’ll feel good, but it’s not guaranteed. Having little moments to look forward to – chai tea lattes being at the top of the list – helps me get through the really tough days.
Two days ago I went to urgent care because the skin on my forehead just wasn’t … normal. It wasn’t a break out and I couldn’t crack it. Having something on your face is disorienting because even though it might not seem like much to other people, it’s huge to you and it just crumbled my self confidence. I could feel the downward spiral, the lack of motivation, the deep dark frustration and powerlessness. And even after the doctor and medicine and calamine lotion it still didn’t’ seem to be diminishing and that further sent me into a tailspin.
Anyway, I went to yoga this morning with a forehead bathed in calamine lotion (poison ivy being the prime suspect for my rash) and I felt a million times better for it. Now I can settle into my teacher training, more calamine lotion drying quietly as I sip tea, do some French lessons and finally focus in on the history of yoga. Husby says despite my paranoia, the rash is looking much better. So, that’s a good thing.
Xox, g
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I was thinking – as I moved my reading light from my reading chair (which Lucy has taken ownership of … permanently) to our love seat so I can curl up and do my reading (both for yoga and because reading is one of my favorite things) – I really love my life.
I wondered – is that a strange thing to feel? Or even think? Do people often reflect on how much they love their lives? I almost felt guilty thinking it, let along feeling it, as though we as humans should be perpetually disappointed by life.
I don’t know why i feel that way. It certainly wasn’t modeled by my parents who seemed to enjoy their lives very much. Or Jennie – who snuck out to gamble all night, returning home in time to cook David and I pancakes for breakfast before school. But somehow, the impression that life should be dissatisfying seems to pervade our collective existence – it is a running theme in books and movies and television shows. A constant quest for happiness, or whatever happiness is. An escape from the reality of … mediocrity.
John and I decided a long time ago that we wanted to just enjoy our lives. And so … we do. We enjoy each other and we enjoy the things we surround ourselves with and what we pursue in our ‘free’ time (a much more accurate word for John than me, as all my time is technically ‘free’). We don’t live a grand or exciting life like my brother – summiting mountains and ice climbing on a Wednesday in the French alps. But we love the life we live – the world we’ve created. I love lighting candles every night, practicing yoga, my Peloton, listening to music on our crazy sound system, $5 Tuesdays at Movie Tavern … all the things, even on the days when I have a huge poison ivy rash across the middle of my forehead.
Anyway, it sat with me and I thought it was worth writing down. This idea that maybe it’s okay to just … be content in our existence. Be content in the life that we’ve had the autonomy to create. I know that not all humans have that luxury – even in a country as rich as the United States. But we do, and shouldn’t we be allowed to relax into that? To feel it, and be grateful for it, and grateful for our time here, pursuing the things we love?
Xox, g
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Two years ago …
Kind of an ominous start considering that nearly two years ago exactly the Covid pandemic began with school closures and business closures and quarantining and red, yellow and green zones. Two years. So much has happened. So much has changed.
Also, two years ago I began my yoga teacher training journey. I knew it was something I wanted to do, so when my studio offered their first (and to this point only) teacher training I signed up. And I honestly hated it. It wasn’t anything I thought it would be. It made me resent yoga – which I think is probably not ever the intention. I decided that perhaps, teaching yoga wasn’t for me, and when isolation began I dropped out. I knew that my attitude certainly wasn’t very yogic and my presence wouldn’t have been fair to the other women focused on becoming teachers.
But even though I felt okay about my decision at the time, I kept coming back to the idea that I wanted to get certified. I felt it in my bones, as though it was the right thing for me to pursue. Maybe I just needed a little bit of time to figure out my true ‘why’ … I don’t know.
But here I am, March 2022, beginning yoga teacher training again. And it is SO DIFFERENT than the first time. To begin, it’s online (possibly not a strength for me but hopefully not a deal breaker either). But it’s also not solely focused on the Baptiste method (which is the type of yoga I regularly practice and love, but didn’t speak to me during my first training). This course is rich with yogic history and Sanskrit and all the things I wanted to learn the first time around but … didn’t. I have cautiously optimistic high hopes that this training will be the beginning of my next phase of yoga. And I’m nervous and excited and a little scared.
Which I’m very sure is a good thing.
Xox, g
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Today is International Women’s Day.
It’s funny to me because life – that long ago life when days like today felt significant or important – doesn’t really exist any more.
As I scrolled Instagram (a morning habit that I must break) I was amazed at all the incredible women I know. Battling large and small obstacles, always positive, always upbeat. I guess it’s because I choose those kinds of people to follow, to be connected to. Their energy is what feeds my soul, lifts me up, helps me find the silver lining on the really dark days.
Women are incredible. Strong and thoughtful and imaginative and creative and beautiful. Women bash their heads against ceilings to pave the way for those behind them. But women can also be difficult – cagey and defensive and downright mean. Women are all the things, all the time. Like men. Like non-binary humans. We are everything and nothing, all encompassing and a black hole.
I was raised by two incredible women who set an example to me of the kind of person I wanted to be. I miss them both – daily, intensely. But I also know they are both with me and in me – in my choices and in the way I see the world.
I am tired today. Yesterday was full and long. The temperatures have dropped about thirty or forty degrees. The wind is whipping. I will go to yoga. And get a chai. And come home and do the things – finish laundry and make dinner (hopefully!), balance our bank accounts. Possibly read a little. I’d like that.
I do the things women have been doing for decades — the quiet things that keep households chugging smoothly along. Maybe a day or a month isn’t enough. Maybe it shouldn’t be tokenized. Perhaps we should celebrate women and their roles in this life every single day. And be grateful and awed.
Xox, g
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Today was one of those massively efficient, got-lots-of-things-accomplished days. A lot like yesterday but not – John was working and I was doing Monday kind of things.
And then I took a wicked fall and it felt like life screeched to a halt.
My whole body hurts, especially my right hand and hip. I’m exhausted but afraid that I’ll wake up stiff and sore and still afraid to walk too far from something to grab onto.
MS. She’s such a motherf*cker.
Xox, g
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I was in contemplative mood yesterday. Today felt like a ‘work’ day — so much accomplished but exhausted and with an empty brain. I figured I’d share my IG story.
I have ups and downs on the journey of self-discovery. But the days I feel completely at ease in the skin I’m in … those aren’t such bad days.
Xox, g
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As I waited for this page to open up and finally allow me to type, a million things flew through my brain. How much I just wanted to sleep, how dedicated I am to blogging even when I have nothing to say — most importantly that I have nothing to say and no direction —what the actual point of this blind determination is in the grand scheme of things ….
I thought about our afternoon and how as humans, we all choose who we spend time with in odd ways — but shouldn’t we choose other people who bring us joy? Who light up at the same things as us — good conversation, debate, laughter …. Or whatever floats each person’s boat. Shouldn’t we spend time with people we trust?
If I am devoted to coming to this space every day (ahem, night) shouldn’t I at least have a hazy outline of an idea? Because just coming here and verbally vomiting on the page doesn’t serve anyone very much. Am I serving myself? In any other way than proving I don’t always quit? I’m not sure. Am I serving anyone who actually commits to reading? I’d say no, as my posts are as random as a moment in anyone’s brain – disjointed, short, long, rambling … but mostly seemingly pointless.
Anyway. I couldn’t go to sleep without blogging. And somehow, I feel as though that’s a win.
Xox, g
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A few infusions ago, a man came into our room to tout the benefits of reiki. He explained that many people have found great relief through reiki. And then he paused and looked conspiratorially at us both. “And, I don’t want to — well, three nurses who were all trying to get pregnant had one session each and they all got pregnant!“. He smiled widely. My eyes slid to the side as I smiled weakly.
I’m not sad that women who wanted children were able to have them. I wasn’t sad that I don’t have children. I even believe in reiki and think it’s fantastic that UPenn has a program for patients. I was slightly annoyed by his pitch.
“Wrong audience,” I said to John as he left, leaning my head back to check my meds level.
Here’s my thing – we are all living on this Earth for our one life. Even if we get more, even if reincarnation is a real thing and we keep coming back again and again we won’t know because very few people remember their former lives and anyway, that’s beside the point right now. We get this life. This one, beautiful, precious, difficult, challenging, confusing life. What a cool miracle.
And so many of us just … live in a lane and a belief system and impose it on everyone else as though it’s the rightest of right ways to exist. As though I should want children, don’t I want children, isn’t it so sad that I don’t have children?
Not really.
I mean, for me, not really. I don’t hate kids – in fact, I adore my goddaughter and her brother and so many little humans that I’ve known across the years. But I don’t want my own. And even when – momentarily – I did think having kids would be excellent, I was never devastated when it didn’t happen.
This is just one example of society telling me – both loudly and subtly – what I should be doing and wanting in my one precious life. And I’m kind of over it.
I’d be fairly narcissistic to believe that my legacy will live on forever after I’m gone. So why shouldn’t I just embrace this time, this ride, and really enjoy as much of it as I can?
I think about this a lot when I’m hooked up to meds. Because every four weeks we schlep into the city so I can have drugs pumped into my veins in order to be able to live my one precious life the best way I can.
And that’s kind of what I want to do.
Xox, g
D5 Creation