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Day 299
Lucy and I drove to the vet this morning in a drizzle rain, the colors of fall popping along the roadside, her nose resolutely out the window, even as she (and the Jeep) got wet. The sky looked ominous, dark, swirling, thick grey. It felt like the perfect, stormy fall morning. I loved every second of it and thought about how small the moment was in the grand scheme of my life.
Which brought me to the fleeting nature of existence, how small things make up all the big things — small triumphs, small beauties, small moments of happiness. It isn’t about the next big thing … it’s about all the little things that happen along the way to the next big thing. The nuances and rhythms of life. The blending of smoothies and guzzling of water, the unending laundry pile, the doctor appointments and the insurance payments. All of those things make up the big picture, like pointillism in art. Small together makes large.
John bought tickets this morning to see a re-release of “Rocky IV” in the theatre next month. We’d talked about it and he’d been of two minds; but I knew it was under his skin, something he wanted to do without a specific reason. Just a feeling. Nagging at him, circling back to him when he thought it had gone away. It isn’t playing at a convenient time or even on a convenient date … but we will go and it will be wonderful. Because life is about the small things — the small joys and shared moments. Walks with Lucy in the rain and a good run of songs on Pandora … the recognition that we all have a finite amount of time here on Earth, in these bodies, with these people.
xoxo, g
Day 294
I love chilly mornings. Waking up snuggled in bed, listening to the even breath of husby, the snurfling of Lucy Lou. Knowing there is time before anyone moves, before the day begins.
Recently they ‘trimmed’ the trees along the road below our house and now, it sounds like a Nascar racetrack most early mornings, when the sun is just beginning to lighten the sky — deep blues and purples turning to grays and violets.
The sun rises from the behind the hills that we see from our bedroom windows. A horizon of red and orange melting to pink and then corn yellow before opening up into a crisp blue-white morning. Birds are chirping and life is humming.
It’s been a strange October … it’s been a strange year. Nothing will ever be the ‘same’ again … we have irrevocably shifted course and we must acknowledge that and move forward within that … even if it feels as though no one is on the same page.
Maybe it’s always been that way. Maybe I’m only just seeing it now, as I come around the corner of ‘middle age’ … and begin to realize that nothing is as we were taught. None of the rules mean anything. No one knows what they are doing – no one. We are all just making it up as we go.
I feel suspended in time, not quite here and not quite there. Anticipating the future, mourning the past. But not quite present. I long to find the person I used to be but also, wonder if she even exists anymore. It’s been a long time since March 2020 when the whole world changed. It feels longer still since May 2020 when George Floyd died. I cannot unsee what I have seen … and yet nothing has changed. Isn’t that peculiar and also so indicative of our culture? Disappointing. Infuriating. Exhausting.
I move through the day doing what I ‘should’ do … according to … I don’t know. Me? The world? Social media?
I read once that we are not who we think we are. And we are not who other people think we are. We are who we think other people think we are.
So does that mean we are self-imposing uncomfortable and unnatural guidelines to our lives? How do we shake that overly layered and unnecessarily complicated filter?
I can tell you one thing – I do not know.
I know that I come here to speak to the void, but also to speak to anyone who stumbles upon this page and keeps reading. I am speaking to the other curious people out there, feeling lost and looking for answers.
I do not think answers will ever exist.
And getting comfortable with *that* is the hardest task of all.
xoxo, g
Day 293
When I finally decided to get up this morning, I did it in one motion. Blanket back, legs swung round, eyes bleary, body heavy, my torso suddenly vertical and painfully stiff.
I’ve been feeling heavy lately. Without a particular reason why. Maybe its Lucy’s tumor — now removed and tested and benign but the scab still healing and the cone still on. Maybe it’s our newest little dream that we’re slowly willing into reality — a dream I hesitate to talk about in absolutes or write about at all. Maybe it’s just being tired because life never does slow down — that moment of relaxation always just out of reach.
Today I went to physical therapy despite it being the last thing I wanted to do. I signed up for yoga and promptly cancelled my booking. I want to sit and feel the fall, feel the cool air slipping through the open windows, filling our home with a delightful chill that necessitates sweatshirts and fuzzy socks and blankets.
I want to take my dog for a walk in the autumn sunshine and come home to curl up and read a book. I want to breath and think and try to let go of the desperate stress that pervades every corner of my world.
I do not want to adult or even human today. I can’t bear small talk and niceties … discussing anything other than nothing.
I want to be alone. To be quiet. To write and read and be comfortable and comforted.
xoxo, g
Day 290
I recently became friends on social media with someone I haven’t seen or talked to in over ten years (if I’m being conservative). Re-connecting in the virtual age has sent me into a tailspin of memories, thought patterns and regrets that have been uncomfortable … unpleasant. And most importantly, unnecessary.
And it got me thinking. Were we meant to stay in touch with all the people throughout our lives? Were we meant to be reminded daily of who we used to be? Reminded of the person we grew from, the mistakes we made…. Were we meant to stay stuck in a circle, in a box of who we once were?
I don’t think so. I think social media has created a problem … not just with perfect lives and filtered photos, but with keeping us all stuck in one position, unable to move forward or change without the constant reminder of what once was.
In the end, I’ll probably end up un-friending this person because what does it serve to be connected, virtually, after years of growing into different people? How am I served by seeing this person’s life but not having conversations? Having this person see my life, without knowing the roads I walked to get here.
This is what I think about on five hour road trips through the changing colors of autumn.
xoxo, g
Day 228; AHR day no 8
And so the second week begins.
I don’t know who reads this – if anyone – but let me assure you, we did not arrive in the second week of the Autoimmune Health Reset without some major mood swings, unhappiness and deep desires to quit.
Let me state my case here. I deeply believe that food is healing, that what we put in our bodies determines our experience of life (high energy, low energy, bloating, discomfort, glowing skin … the results of food run the gamut).
But something I am not a fan of in any way? Restriction.
I know, I know. It can be very helpful and a strong teacher. But I really struggle with restriction. Tell me I’m never allowed to have another chai latte? Result – I drink two a day for infinity. Tell me chai lattes are making me feel like shit but it’s not off limits? The choice is mine? I’ll probably comply. I’m difficult like that. I like to make the decision myself.
It makes me a very bad participant in health resets.
Listen, we’re doing okay. I think we’re both hungry most of the time. I know I certainly am. I spend time every day reading other participants’ experiences, troubles, etc. It doesn’t inspire me to keep going and be happy about it.
I have to dig deep. I have to remember why I started. Even when it’s hard. Even when I want to quit. (Which I do, every single day). Especially when both the husband and I are super cranky because we’re both super hungry. And dinner is hours away.
Anyway. Week Two is off to a great start. Only fourteen more to go. And chicken and Brussels sprouts on the menu for dinner. With bacon. That can’t be that bad, right?
Right?
Xoxo, g
Day 224; AHR day no 4
A hint.
Maybe don’t start a new diet protocol the Monday of a three-day headache rager and four days post-PRK eye surgery.
I’ve been grumpy.
I’m still hungry. (I don’t know when or if this will ever change).
I’m a little bitter because … well, maybe I’ll get into that another time.
Suffice to say, it hasn’t been the easiest week. But yesterday we had sweet potato fries and beef burgers with a little mushroom and onion sauté (hello ghee, my new favorite thing). And my headache faded out as the day began to fade. So now it’s just me, my hunger and my wonky vision as my eyes continue tp heal.
When J+I signed up for the Autoimmune Health Reset program, it happened in a flurry, a dark stretch of days (months?) of not feeling good, and at the end of ideas. It was expensive, but we figured, what the heck? There’s no price on our health.
That remains true.
It doesn’t, however, justify some of the … shall I say nuances? … of the program.
I have started to feel better (even if simultaneously grouchy and hungry). I had a good workout today for the first time in what felt like forever. My right leg is still not good, but I’m doing my PT (with large sides of sass and commentary on health professionals and their attitudes toward ‘sick’ people and y’know, the ancients, ahem, those over 40 …). I’m drinking my water.
And we have groceries and dinner ideas and kombucha and seaweed.
But still. Woof. (I’m the worst at diet protocols).
Xoxo, g
Day 221: AHR day no 1
I hit a wall a few months ago. My weight was going up, my body was hurting and nothing I was doing seemed to help.
When I hit a wall, I tend to go overboard trying to solve the issue. My chiropractor reminds me constantly that there aren’t always answers. That sometimes you just have to move through the feelings.
But coming out of a full year of COVID, and multiple doctors saying “Well, you are over forty so …” meant that I wasn’t going to leave it alone.
Amongst many things, I finally decided that maybe a diet protocol or a functional medical doctor would be a good idea. Traditional Western medicine seemed to keep letting me down. So husby and I registered for an Autoimmune Health Reset. It’s a four month program filled with diet, mindfulness, supplements and fasting and we are on Day #1.
Day One doesn’t mean much. Right now it means we aren’t really sure about what we’re doing, everything feels difficult and we’re hungry. I know that as we figure things out, it will get easier and I am very (cautiously) optimistic that I will begin to feel better.
Also, did I mention that I got corrective eye surgery and the recovery time is 2-4 weeks? Plus it’s balls ass hot out? So yeah, today might not be my best day. But I’m doing it. And I guess that’s what counts.
Xox, g
Day 136
It’s been a minute.
To me, the last time I blogged feels a lifetime ago. As though so much has changed that those days are nearly unrecognizable. But that’s life … that’s sort of how everything seems to be. Hard to remember, as though so much living has occurred between then and now.
A few days ago the mask mandate was lifted by way of the CDC releasing a statement about the efficacy (or lack thereof) for vaccinated people. It didn’t take much more than that for businesses to change policies, for gyms and studios and restaurants to re-open their doors, their tables.
Whatever my politics may be, it *does* feel like a relief. I don’t want the world to necessarily “return to normal” because what does that even mean in the wake of Covid-19, George Floyd and the civil reckoning that has become part of American culture? It shouldn’t be dismissed or forgotten. We’ve learned things- whether we like it or not. We’ve had to face things, whether it’s comfortable or not. And it isn’t over — it can’t be over. Even if there is a strong contingency of this country who would prefer to turn a blind eye. So no, I don’t want to “return to normal.”
But I would like to move through life without a mask, without the fear that every touch, every breath, could kill me. There is a relief in that, albeit small.
My second vaccine shot wiped me out – took the breath right out of my lungs. But it’s been over two weeks since then, so I am now vaccinated and able to move around again in the company of strangers.
I know that not all people with autoimmune diseases feel the way I feel. They are angry at the change, worried for their health. I understand that. But I can’t live my life by anyone else’s rules but my own. I have to feel comfortable in my own skin. I don’t like being in-authentic. So I feel how I feel. And I am glad to be able to practice yoga in a studio without a mask.
And that’s where I am today. On the eve of a beach trip and fully vaccinated. Looking forward to Black Widow and F9; The Fast Saga. Falling asleep with candles lit for my mother and my brother-in-law, husband doing research and Thor: Ragnarok playing in the background. Lucy snurfling in her bed, dreaming of squirrels and rabbits and sniffs in the long grass of spring.
Xox, g
Day 77
There’s nothing quite like sitting down with a full chai latte and catching up with an old friend. Even if it’s to find out she’s moving away and even if it’s only on the phone instead of in person (this is the current status quo for Covid, anyway).
I’m not always “good” at friendships. I don’t do all the things — the cards and the gifts and calling regularly. But even so, i have incredible female friends and I know it. I am grateful for it. I put in as much effort as I know how to, as comes naturally to me. I love them all indescribably. Deeply and fully. And they accept me for me, which is such a blessing.
Life has gifted me friends along the journey, women (& men) who understand me, who listen to me, who teach me and inspire me. Today’s phone call was a reminder of all the things that happen along the road of life for which I can (& should!) be thankful.
So tonight I’ll research the Hudson Valley and listen to Folklore and look forward to the next time our paths cross. A moment we will inevitably plan and a moment I will relish because this friendship rose out of the ashes of years of hard work and sacrifice. And it is a gift.
Xox, g
D5 Creation