February, 2022
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28222
It‘s funny to me that we are finished with two months of the ‘new’ year.
Two months. One sixth. Not an insignificant amount of time.
It makes me think about how we each choose to spend our time. I was reading today about the wonder that comes back into your life after quitting drinking. The wonder and excitement and fun of experiencing life – the things we all found interesting as children become interesting again. Life seems miraculous and wondrous and beautiful and amazing and incredible. Because we’re paying attention. Because we aren’t clouding our thoughts with alcohol – numbing the pain and running from the truth. We are, instead, marinating in it all.
It’s been nearly two years of a pandemic. Several days ago the first ground war in nearly eighty years began in Europe. Life feels heavy and very difficult to navigate and yet we MUST still exist and live.
Time is a funny, trippy thing.
Xo, g
27222
It feels strange and disconnected to go about life as though everything is fine. As though a war isn’t happening on European soil for the first time in eighty years. As though people aren’t fleeing for borders and huddled in makeshift bomb shelters.
It feels strange and wrong.
But what else can I do? Can John do? We can pay attention, obviously. But I don’t know that there is anything actionable we can do right now besides donating money to organizations and efforts to help the Ukrainian people.
My exhaustion is so palpable it’s actually hard to describe. Physically, mentally, emotionally. Life feels so exceptionally difficult. But we’re watching “Only Murders in the Building” …. Which both adds to the exhaustion (how is this what I’m doing while a country is being attacked?) and relieves the exhaustion (with escapism and a break from the constant scrolling).
We’re going to bed before eight pm again. That’s where we’re at.
Xox, g
26222
I feel like the car that is sputtering on the side of the road – sputtering but not turning over. Still trying, but too worn out to do much more than flail intermittently.
I’m not sure what triggered it but today I had a true moment of utter despair – a moment of terror and fear and defeat and desperation. I am tired. I cannot seem to get “un” tired no matter what I do. And the fear within me to be viewed as lazy or privileged drives me every day to push myself past the capacity of my body.
Fear of not being able to walk. Despair at becoming a person like my in-laws: completely uncaring about my environment or my health or the people I’m surrounded by. Defeat at not being able to keep going, to do the things, live a normal life. Terror at being directionless and lost forever.
What is rest? What is good sleep? What are the things I can do and keep existing without sputtering to a stop?
I am so tired.
Xox, g
25222
Something husby and I talked about today – but we talk about often in different ways – is how we are each given one life. No do-overs, no seconds, no switching out. Just one.
You can think of it as a gift from God or biology or just the way things work. But we each get one. And when we die there isn’t a terribly long span of time before we are forgotten. (Not to be morbid or tragic or sad – but unless you’re George Washington or Socrates, you probably won’t be remembered hundreds of years later).
That being said, how we each choose to spend the time we are given – which is not in any way guaranteed – should (hopefully) take on new meaning. Why spend time doing hateful things, or terrible things, or being utterly miserable in life? Why choose to spend your precious time that way?
My mother was sometimes referred to as a Pollyanna. This is in reference to an old Disney movie of the same name about a young girl who was positive in the face of some devastating odds. She always found the bright side. That was my mother – always sunny and happy and enjoying her time.
I know it wasn’t always like that. There were times when it got very dark for her. I was young (and some of it happened before I was even thought of, let alone born) but I remember those times. I also think my mother – who lost her first husband at the tender age of twenty-two – understood the profundity of the fleeting nature of life.
I’ve been thinking about it today because there is a war going on in our country against human rights. And a war on European soil that America cannot get involved in for threat of nuclear war. And these people – those perpetrating the erasure of human rights and the invasion of another people’s home are CHOOSING to spend their limited time on this Earth pursuing these goals. For what? To affect a generation or two of humans coming after — to create a world of hate and fear and angst and terror? That’s a choice. By another human being.
It weighs on me, it makes me profoundly sad. As I feel the privilege of my life, it’s safety and comfort.
Xoxo, g
24222
The world is on fire.
Russia invaded Ukraine. Texas is legalizing a witch hunt against trans children and their parents and care-givers.
The world is on fire.
g
23222
Something that makes me sad — limited release Kombucha flavors from Wegmans that I can never find again.
Okay, that’s my random thought for this blog post. But this pomegranate orange is delicious and I’m so sad I won’t be able to find it again. Insert sad face emoji. 🥲
Yoga today was dreamy. Super hot and humid and sweaty but practically perfect in every other way. No fallen triangles or flipped dogs (poses that plague my wrists) and a class full of familiar faces. Wednesday’s classes are taught by my favorite teacher – I absolutely love her so deeply there aren’t adequate words. All the teachers at the studio are excellent and the community is what keeps me afloat when I feel like I am drowning, but Sara is my yoga North Star. She empowers and encourages and keeps everything so grounded and real.
I’ve always loved yoga – since the early days of Ryah in Conshohocken, but recently I’ve settled into the fact that yoga and Be & Breathe have given my life the shape that allows me to be the best version of me (always stumbling and falling but trying anyway … coming back again and again with an open heart and a mind that is so desperate to learn and question and push boundaries). Yoga has become the foundation and the framework.
Everything else is the icing … yoga is the cake.
Xox, g
22222
Today was an interesting day. Gray and warm for February but also full of strange and left-field emotions.
Once I got on the bike (a struggle but accomplished!) I felt much better. And even when I’m sitting and feeling woeful I know exercise will help. It’s getting up and getting it done that I find so difficult sometimes.
Life was all over the map last week — painful both physically and emotionally and without much stability. This week feels better – a little more rhythm and routine. Less pain, less uncertainty. But the weather wreaks havoc with my body and I always find that disconcerting.
My mind is full right now – not an excellent sign considering I meditated (but I also read my email, which I know not to do before bed but did it anyway … whomp whomp). I trying to remind myself that my frustrations are more a reflection of me than anyone else (per my meditation, which felt timely while reading my emails and quietly steaming) but frustrated I remain regardless.
Must sleep now. An early morning and a doctor’s appointment awaits.
Xox, g
21222
One of the things that I’ve been trying (and mostly failing) to learn is the difference between what is good for me and what I *think* is good for me.
Case in point – it pains me to take my Apple Watch off if I haven’t hit my goals – not just my red green and blue rings but also my step count. Tonight I am going to sleep short about 1500 steps. Because what’s good for me (rest) trumps what my watch says (walk longer). I know this because I am always learning the nuances of my disease and today – with its huge temperature changes – slayed me and my poor, lead weight legs. I don’t need to push my body any further, I need to rest it. But those steps will haunt me and I will try to make up for them the rest of the week.
Knowing and doing are two very different things. Knowing tells me I shouldn’t eat gluten or dairy but … when a Reuben sandwich presents itself, I have a hard time saying no. Knowing says respect your body but doing says “Use it or lose it,”. And with MS, that’s a true and highly likely possibility.
I’m going to go to sleep now and try to be gentle with myself this week as the temperatures bob back and forth between spring and mid-winter. I am going to try.
Xox, g
20222
Some days I don’t feel well and I know what the issue is. I ate something wrong, I didn’t sleep well, etc etc. Today I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. But it was an MS-y kind of day. Aches and pains and stiffness and fatigue. One of those days where I’m working hard just to be human.
When I was first diagnosed I swore I wasn’t going to change anything about my life. I wasn’t going to let this disease change me, change the things I loved, change the shape of things. But life changes the shape of things, we learn and we grow and we make better decisions. Some of us get pushed in that direction, but I think most of us eventually get there.
I’ve known for a long time I was going to have to make big diet changes (ones that I sincerely don’t want to make – hence dragging my feet). Today reaffirmed it with a vengeance. As I sat in the darkness of the movie theatre and reconciled with myself that I knew exactly what was making my digestive system revolt; I could either continue to suffer or make the changes I need to make. I felt both sad and resigned. And painfully, painfully tired.
Adulting is hard work. Whether it’s making responsible financial decisions, or changing my diet, I find it a struggle every day. Where do I compromise, where do I stand firm? What’s worth it and what isn’t … and what are the consequences.
It’s a little after seven at night and I’m calling it a day. I’m flat out exhausted, my body is spent, and there is no reserve of energy to pull from. Today is done.
Xox, g
19222
Earlier this week, I took off my Apple Watch.
To be more precise, I never put it on in the morning. And I’m not sure what all people do, but I don’t sleep with my Apple Watch on. So when i decided to start my day without it, that was a big deal.
My headache pain was so extraordinary, and life was feeling so very unbelievably hard, I decided that I couldn’t take the constant awareness that the watch usually provides. I needed rest, and sleep and more rest, without being reminded to stand up or that I could close my rings. I needed peace and I needed quiet.
At first I didn’t notice because I was so tired and I was trying desperately to beat the headache. But as the week went on the absence of my watch on my wrist was both freeing and uncomfortable – as though I was missing a piece of myself.
The watch changes everything – gives tangible metrics to movement and standing and exercise. It counts steps. It gives you data to define your days.
In so many ways, the watch works for me and in so many ways, I understand the harm it does. I should want to walk just for the pleasure of walking, to enjoy the outdoors and be disconnected for a moment. Not because I *need* steps. And when I am tired, I should rest, not push to hit exercise and calorie goals. But that’s what it’s become. Closing rings and hitting step count goals.
Which, by the way, aren’t actually that bad. They’re – dare I say it?!- motivating and helpful? Just maybe not when they start to become addictive?
So that’s the rub. It’s both good and bad. In both situations – with and without the watch – I am free but I am also missing.
Tonight, instead of fretting about how to close my rings and get my steps I took my watch off and went downstairs to rest and relax. I hope that’s my relationship moving forward — a little healthier, a little more balanced. A little less fraught.
Xox, g
D5 Creation