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the second
Today was rife with challenges, but setting all that aside (work politics will never not be work politics, no matter the industry, no matter the time) it wasn’t a terrible day. I got home a little later than normal — possibly due to the steady rain – and the man and I set to packing more boxes.
It’s sort of crazy how packing tires you out. I can feel the tension reaching a pitch perfect point in my shoulder blades, and it seems so odd that I feel it so acutely. What is so stressful about putting things in boxes?
Today was a tough day. Both personally and professionally. Have you ever faced a decision, a situation, and you really don’t know what to do? Not a moment when you know the ‘right’ thing and the ‘wrong’ thing and can’t decide — but a situation when you really have no idea how you want to handle it?
Yes. I’m there. And it’s excruciating.
So just for my own peace of mind — to be able to say something in my own defence even if I’m shouting into nothingness — I am not a bad person. I have never been a bad person. I may have made bad decisions, but inherently, I’m not a bad person.
However, I can’t convince people who feel otherwise of my belief in who i am. And honestly, the older I get, the less I care. If you don’t like me, if you think terrible things about me, well, first – I’m not interested in having you in my life. And second, I don’t care anymore if you’ve never really gotten to know me past your assumptions.
All that being said, it is different when it’s family. And there’s the rub.
If I could continue to ignore the situation, I would. But I’m getting on a plane in three weeks, and things will be addressed so I need to figure out how I want to handle it now — and just do it. But there are SO many factors, so many sides, so many shades of each color …. It’s driving me nuts.
Life. She’s a real corker sometimes.
2/7
Today is my second wedding anniversary – but it’s also the seventh anniversary of John and I becoming an us. We celebrated like champions over the weekend, so today it was work, and then GoT in our pjs while the rain drummed and the thunder and lightening sparred in the sky.
I’ve been all over the place these past few days — the bubble of anticipation for the beginning of June nearly overwhelming. It’s a big month in the Hawn household. The man will be journeying to Scotland with me for the first time and our house — that wild and crazy decision we made in the depths of January — is near fruition. We snuck in yesterday and saw the flooring down, and the plumbing in every bathroom nearly complete. It seems that this long held dream will soon be a reality. Exhilarating and terrifying simultaneously!
The apartment is partially packed — boxes and rolls of tape leaning in corners near stacked belongings. Lucy has been pushing her food around and working herself up into a frenzy — we think it’s the transition of her home – the uncertainty. The nervous energy of John and I that she can inherently feel.
It’s an exciting time and a scary time — work continues to challenge us both (in varying degrees and at varying times) and this step — this leap into home ownership feels enormous. I want to remember these moments, the small breath in between the huge gulps of air — but I know that as time passes, things fade, images become blurry. There will be a moment in the future when I struggle to remember some detail of this apartment that seems ridiculously simple right now.
Today marks something so important – something so responsible for who I am today, where I am, who I’ve become. FInding John, choosing to forge a life together — it’s immense, significant. Humbling. I think it’s only fitting that a month as big as this month is setting out to be, begins with us. And I sincerely hope it ends with Lucy finding her appetite in her new house.
being grown up
The amount of things I do on a daily basis in the name of health — well, it’s ridiculous.
I began thinking about it one morning, as I took my liquid vitamin D, put my other supplements in my bag, made my lunch, prepared my hot water with lemon and green smoothie for breakfast. And that’s just part of the nutrition side. I drink over 90 ounces of water a day (trust me, that’s a lot of bathroom breaks), I’m about 90% meat-free, sober about 98% of the time (wine, despite being wildly delicious and utterly fascinating, also enhances my leg spasms and other MS symptoms) and I don’t eat very much gluten. I have to say that when all these changes were first presented I was completely overwhelmed by all of it. I didn’t think I was unhealthy but there were a lot of adjustments that were suggested as better alternatives. (In the years since I began this journey, I have learned that many of those adjustments did indeed make life better.)
Outside of food (and all those components) I also use a dry brush (my trusty Yerba) in the mornings before I shower — to help circulation, the lymphatic system and keeping my skin healthy. I try to meditate every morning. I moisturize every day (this is THE most tedious part of my day — I just find it completely tiresome), I have a pretty strict face routine (tinted moisturizer for the day, a different moisturizer for sleeping, different face washes/masks for the morning and evening — and I count to 40 -slowly- while washing my face). I also count to 40 while brushing my teeth, and I use a tongue scraper morning and night (one of my favorite things — i have to say, as gross as it is, the junk that builds up on your tongue is a pretty good indicator of how healthy your insides are).
And in addition to all these things (which can seem endless) I also, oh, y’know, work and live my life.
It’s insane to think that when I was young I didn’t think about any of these things. I didn’t worry about my intestines or my colon, I didn’t read my tongue’s debris like gypsies read tea leaves, I didn’t think about what I was eating at.all. And let’s be honest — I’m not that old. In fact, I don’t think of myself as old at all. Thirty-five is just the right age.
I do attribute the life changes to both getting older and being more self-aware as well as MS. And it’s crazy because the more you learn about things and decide what you agree with and what you think is just absurd (and trust me, there are things that seem completely insane in the world of nutrition and health), the more changes you make. Almost unnoticeably.
To be completely honest (which should be a given, since this is a blog by me, about, well, me) I am proud of myself and how far I’ve come. As John and I gear up to buy our house and move away from our first (and to this point, only) home together, I have spent a lot of time reflecting on where we began and how far we’ve come. We started out as two kids who didn’t have two nickels to rub together, eating incredibly unhealthy dinners (as we learned to feed ourselves outside of the restaurant industry) and dreaming of ‘one day.’
Well, now, six years, a dog, a wedding, several jobs & several cars later, we’ve arrived at ‘one day.’ We took some detours along the way (no one plans for a chronic disease, right?) but we got here, and it feels kinda great. It also reminds me that I have grown up — even if I still feel like I’m 17. (There are things that a teenager just can’t — and maybe shouldn’t — understand.) I think life, aging and all the things in between are fascinating. I like analyzing it and dissecting it in my head, in my thoughts. Understanding how I’ve gotten where I am and what I’ve learned along the way.
It’s kinda cool. Even if it takes up a lot of time. 🙂
the beginning of things
I don’t come here as routinely as I should — but when I come, I find myself circling back to the same ideas: living with MS, living life and who I am. I am fascinated with life’s path, God’s plan — how I have become me. I have moved and changed and morphed so many times, and often, there have been no constants to compare the passing of time. I am enthralled with the permanence that now exists in my life and how it has shaped me, but also how it has helped frame my life.
The hubs and I have lived in our apartment for nearly six years. Surprisingly enough, that’s the longest I’ve ever lived in one place. I think back on our relationship, the struggles we’ve faced, the triumphs we’ve experienced, the moments of laughter and the quiet despair of the tears. The day we were married and we celebrated in our back yard. The day we brought Lucy home. The day I was diagnosed with MS. The day we bought our new home. This little apartment is embedded with our joint life. It hurts my heart a little to think of leaving it — even though the idea of owning our own space is thrilling.
When John and I found this little space, I was unemployed and he was in a job that was slowly strangling his soul. We had weeks when we could barely afford groceries, let alone gas for our cars. Every piece of furniture was a hand-me-down, a dumpster dive or a piece from the salvo. We wore clothing we’d owned for years. But in many ways, we were insanely happy — being together, falling asleep each night to the rhythm of the other’s breath. Slowly we changed jobs, we worked doggedly at paying down our (massive) debt, we bought new clothing, we were able to shop at regular grocery stores instead of discount ones. All those milestones are marked in our memory of this apartment, and how it allowed us to stabilize ourselves over the years, and eventually (dare I say it) prosper a little bit.
Our first year was a rollercoaster ride of transitioning out of the restaurant business — learning that we had to feed ourselves, budget our paychecks, learn to cook. Somehow, we figured out how to be semi-healthy, and took steps (as we got into a groove) to better our eating habits, better our life choices. (I will completely admit that the addition of our furry little munchkin Lucy also pushed us in that direction fairly rapidly).
I think back about our evolution — from hot pocket breakfast sandwiches to green smoothies, and I’m sort of amazed. Who we are today, how we live our lives, the choices we make — it all barely resembles the two kids who moved in together after a year of dating. And yet — we’re still the same two people who fell in love. The same two people who were convinced we’d met before — only to discover (after much discussion) that we had not.
Kind of goes back to the idea of God’s plan.
Anyway — maybe all of that is just the idea of growing up, stepping into the big boots and trodding the rough paths of life. And in the end, I am most grateful for one thing: I couldn’t have a better partner (and the fact that I have one at all is also something I am eternally grateful for). He has been my strength in the darkness, my laughter through the tears, my most precious best friend. And together we’ve cobbled together a very happy life. We are not immune to life’s hardships — no one is. And our battles come in all shapes and sizes and forms. But we soldier on together. And I think, as we both sit tapping away on laptops with Avatar playing in the background, that we have been traveling on an amazing adventure together, and I am deeply grateful for his companionship.
acknowledgements
I often feel that my brain is full of things to share, but my body is too exhausted to make the effort. I like to chalk this up to MS, and not inherent laziness.
Life is ever-changing, amorphous. It gently pushes you down different paths merely because of circumstance. And choice. Of course. We make the choices, even if we don’t realize it.
When I was diagnosed with MS, I felt relieved. That’s the truth. I knew something was wrong and the not knowing was a dark rabbit hole of fear. Knowing — while shattering — made things so much more clear. And I was able to choose what kind of MS patient I wanted to be. I didn’t want it to define me – despite the fact that it does define nearly every moment of my day. I recently read a blog post by a Lupus sufferer called “The Spoon Theory” and it certainly helped to define the immense ways that a chronic condition infiltrates your life. But … that being said, or rather, that being acknowledged, having a chronic condition remains only one part of who I am. And remembering that, holding onto that, is more important than anything.
This year, the man and I decided to go big for Lent. We gave up drinking (something we do often, and I fail miserably at) and eating meat. We successfully made it through forty-six days without alcohol or meat of any kind (meaning red meat, chicken, pork, etc). We did eat fish, but surprisingly not as much as I anticipated — although we did enjoy sushi as per usual! And what I found — much to my chagrin — was that I felt a lot better. Some issues that I had just accepted as part of my new normal subsided. And I began to feel good about treating my body so well.
That’s the thing.
When one of my friends had a child, she and her husband said they weren’t going to change — they were going to continue to live their life exactly as they wanted to, they were just going to do it with a child. But inevitably things changed because that’s the nature of life, of evolution. When I was diagnosed with MS I made the same declaration — I wasn’t going to give up things i loved, I was going to live life exactly as I had been living it.
But that’s impossible.
And as I ease into my reality (something that has definitely taken time and soul-searching) I have found that certain changes are inevitable. And some are necessary. I miss running. I miss it, and I mourn it but I’m tired of feeling sorry for myself because of the loss of it. It’s taken me nearly two years to get to that point — two long, hard, discouraging years. And in those years, I’ve begrudgingly made small changes. For the most part, to get through each day in an easier fashion. I initially didn’t understand people who drastically overhauled their lives — how did they just make a choice to change everything about who they were as people? I could do the green smoothies, the vitamin D — but I drew a pretty permanent line there. Going back and slowly redefining that line has been both character building and humbling.
So will I miss eating meat? Yes. I love a good steak, a juicy burger. But will I miss how it made me feel afterwards? Not just initially, but for the few days it takes my body to digest meat? Not really.
And I guess I have to admit the same for alcohol. And until I figure out how to enjoy things in tiny moderation, those are the choices I have to make. Just as parents cannot un-have a child (nor would they ever want to!) I cannot un-have MS. But life can still be beautiful for me — beautiful and full of adventures and good food and lemon-flavored sparkling water. And I’m finally getting to be okay with that.
who we are
It’s a funny evolution — growing up and slowly making life choices. Something that has been on my mind recently — the choices we all make — pretty much touches every aspect of who we are. Not just what we do for a living — but how we do what we do. Who we choose to spend our life with – where that life is lived. Some of the choices are influenced by outside factors, but many are internal decisions. Steps are taken based on experience, based on culture, based on the humans our parents began to build.
But at some point, we stop being our parents children, and we become ourselves.
I can see — in how I live my life — both of my parents and my paternal grandmother (who assisted in raising my brother and I while living with our family most of my young life). Those three people did their best to shape a little human who had values, morals and ate her vegetables (among other things). The time, effort and education they put into me, the love and attention and angst as I grew up and spread my wings — the pure frustration they must have felt. None of their work was immediately evident as I headed off to college. It was hazy — who I was was still somewhat unclear.
I made them wait a little, too. I didn’t have all my sh*t together like most kids — I graduated from college and hung out in limbo for a little bit. Now, over ten years later, I can look back and things make sense. But they didn’t at the time.
And then all of a sudden, I began to figure it out, figure myself out. It started small, but it grew. I felt confident in who I wanted to be – as a partner, as an employee and as a member of society. Suddenly, I began to understand how the world worked — and that it didn’t work for me, or in my favor. I had to make that for myself.
So very long story short, I managed to fall into a career, I met a man who is actually my best friend, a man who cares about me and love me even when I’m completely unloveable. And I began to grow up for real.
What I mean by that is that at some point (and it varies greatly) I think we all become aware of taking care of ourselves — that maybe what we eat actually matters, and exercise is –after all– about more than being skinny and looking the part at the gym. That there are consequences to all our actions.
And then — each one of us — we begin to define ourselves. In our personal relationships, in how we conduct ourselves professionally — in how we choose to be healthy. Some people look for easier solutions — diet supplements, things that guarantee a result without putting in the work. And other people do the research, they slowly build their knowledge and modify their behavior. It speaks of character just as much as it speaks of health.
Anyway, I digress.
The point I’m making (in a very round about way) is that once we begin to make choices we begin to define who we are, but also who we want to be. And that entire process is fascinating. I’ve been thinking a lot about it (as I mentioned at the beginning of this post), because the man and I have made so many changes in how we live — and that’s just the past few years, not even the entire time we’ve been together. At some undefinable moment (because it wasn’t when I was diagnosed — that just enhanced it) John and I began to make changes in how we lived our lives. And the evolution of that is crazy. And I can see who we are, and our life circumstances, in nearly every change we’ve made. I can see myself — this late-blooming human being — beginning to emerge from the haze. And it’s pretty cool.
changing attitudes
Life has a funny way of surprising you.
Case in point — I am not a FB stalker by nature. In general, people I’m no longer friends with, people whose paths have diverged from my own — I’m not all that interested in creeping about online trying to find out how their lives have progressed. Not because I wish them any ill will, but more because there’s no need, no point really, in trying ti find out information that has no relevance to one’s own life. If I was still invested in that friendship, I would know how lives were because I would speak with my friend.
That being said, I’m also not entirely immune to good old-fashioned curiosity.
Let me also say, there are several women from my past whom I am no longer in contact with and for the most part, the reasons for those choices are extremely valid.
But on Friday, as I scrolled through some photos, I happened upon a person I haven’t had any contact with for several years, and I admit, I was curious.
My limited discoveries made me think long and hard about life choices, about why certain people remain friends, and others do not. And, I have to admit, it made me feel glad that I no longer have a relationship with the aforementioned person.
We all, in our lives, come to many crossroads. Decisions have to be made, and in those decisions parts of our character are revealed. Do I choose to follow my dreams or make a living (and do those things have to be mutually exclusive?) — and how do those choices help form the human being I am. Do I choose the easy way or the hard way? And why — because sometimes the easy choices are wise and sometimes, the hard way is the honest, decent, moral way.
I examined the changes that I noticed in this person, the choices in life this person has apparently made — and I knew deep down that as humans, we do not value or prioritize the same things. And that also reinforced that the decision to end our friendship was the right one.
My life is a huge amalgamation of the choices I’ve made, the people who influenced me, the things I value, the morals I hold, the goals I strive for — the man I married, the brother I love, the parents who raised me, the mistakes I’ve learned from, the disease that inhabits my body … You get my point.
I’m proud of where I’ve found myself — of the business I’ve helped to shape, of the friendships I am privileged to enjoy, of the races I’ve run, the food I’ve cooked, the knowledge that I try to grow every day. And I know that each of us makes choices every day about how we want to live — do we drink alcohol, eat meat, drink water, exercise, pursue hobbies, etc etc. This person who I am no longer friends with — she always gave me the impression that she didn’t approve of my life, of my choices, of my job/career, my relationships. I don’t know that I ever felt that way about her — she seemed to make smart decisions, and she had the foundation of a very happy life and family the last time we spoke. But now, doing a little check-in years later, I was surprised by some of the paths she chose to walk and it brought into sharp focus that whatever disapproval she had for me probably came from her own insecurities and had very little to do with my actual life.
I am the first to admit that I didn’t follow the easiest path to where I am. Somehow, despite some terrible life choices, I’ve ended up in a good place, with an amazing support group. I’m not the best at keeping in touch. I’m selfish. Not in a terrible way, but in a real way. I know that. But I’m also fairly resourceful, and thanks to the inherent spirit of my mother, I tend to look on the bright side of life. Even if it doesn’t seem to exist. Having a moment when I realized that I no longer needed to feel cowed by a person years and miles away in relevance — it was refreshing and relieving. If also a little absurd.
So that’s my tangent for today. My snuggly pup is rolling around on the carpet and the man is researching for his upcoming trip Out West. It’s a nice Sunday. I’m going to go make some popcorn and watch more Star Trek. 🙂
small smiles
March most assuredly came in like a lion today. John and I headed into the city to put my new office today (phew! it was driving me nuts working in an office that looked like a bomb went off). We arrived downtown with a heavy gray sky, and by the time we left, the snow had accumulated and turned to freezing rain. It was insane.
I guess the one thing I felt grateful for today is that each new day is just that — new. And when you wake up in the morning and you allow all the heaviness of the day before and the tumultuousness of a restless night’s sleep slip from your shoulders, life feels a lot lighter.
It all starts again tomorrow. But at least I feel much better, and I have a nice, clean place to go to work. Sometimes it’s worthwhile to just find the little things that make you smile, and add them up. It usually amounts to much more than you realized.
tracking time
So, a small update on the status of my resolutions/life changes.
I have successfully taken my vitamins almost every day. I have begun most days with warm water and lemon. I still don’t like it. But it’s growing on me. Perhaps my kidneys are a fan? Maybe I’ll think of it that way. I have tried to take better care of my skin (all my skin, not just my face and neck). I still find moisturizing tedious. But then I remind myself that it’s the biggest organ of the body, and that it deserves just as much TLC as my digestive track, my kidneys and all the other organs that benefit from the various things I try to do on a daily basis.
The man and I began Lent with the vow of abstaining from meat and alcohol. A few days ago we made a commitment to reduce our gluten intake (we think of it as the 90% gluten-free diet). I always hate admitting it, but I do feel better when we don’t drink and when my diet is very plant-based. I will never enjoy raw veganism — I just really don’t like raw veggies. And having experienced dehydrated foods I will pass on those as well (when they re-hydrate in your stomach/intestine, it is the most uncomfortable feeling in the world. Like the worst bloating you’ve ever experienced in your life). But stuffed peppers and zucchini pasta, and caprese salads and portobello caps and green smoothies? I can get down with that stuff. And we haven’t given up fish. Or dairy (sacrilege I say! …. although I do understand the benefit of giving up dairy. Unfortunately).
I have tried to limit my social media usage and have been — fairly — successful. Some days are better than others. Say — sitting in a waiting room with nothing to do? Yes, social media makes an appearance. But on regular days, when I’m working and cooking and swimming, etc etc. I don’t always get to Instagram or Facebook. Twitter however, is still on my phone.
Having revisited my resolutions for this year, I have already fallen woefully short. BUT, there are things I’ve done that aren’t on the resolutions list. So it almost (not really) counterbalances it. I have not begun learning Spanish yet. I have not played my keyboard. And I have not been hugely successful with beginning each day by saying “Today will be a great day.” But — I have consistently tried to treat my body with more kindness, and I am working on making healthy life choices in regards to diet, exercise and the types of products I am using. (No, I will not give up my grapefruit Neutrogena face wash. No matter how many bad things are in it. I love it. And that’s that.)
Like the tortoise taught us, slow and steady wins the race. We just bought a house. My business is growing. I’ve had shingles. At thirty-five. As long as every day I try my very best — to eat well, to do my job well, to treat people with kindness, to treat myself with kindness, to love my puppy and my family and my friends, to Thank God for John — well, that’s all I can really do, right?
Oh yeah, and sometimes I just need to give myself a break and forgive myself. That one is tough.
dark moments
February is not my friend. It’s never been my friend. Not as a child when the dark, cold dreary-ness affected me to my core. Not now when it feels like the longest month of the year — both personally and professionally.
February — twenty-eight days of struggle. Annually.
Yesterday I nearly hit my breaking point — stopping for a minute to just put my head down and shake with unshed tears. That hollow, silent, desperate sort of sob. The kind that eclipses you at the very darkest, most lonely moment. When everything you do feels like a failure.
Today, as I drove to work, it overwhelmed me again. Just –this deep feeling of not being enough to anyone. Not being strong enough to carry the work-load of my job, not being present enough for my puppy, who so lovingly takes care of me when I am down, not being able to maintain my credit score for mortgage rates and mortgage insurance rates — not being there enough for my mother and father and aunt as they face the barrel of a gun. Just — not having the ability to be all things to everyone I love. To be capable enough to handle work and personal finances and obligations. Feeling as though I’m cracking from the inside out.
And that’s not even taking the MS and all that goes with it into account. The shingles, the overwhelming heat and low lighting of my new office (neither things helpful for my MS and Optic Neuritis), the fatigue, the weakness — my body letting me down just when I need it the most.
The pressure of everything.
It is in these moments that I know — no matter how many people I have who love me, who support me– I am the only person who can take care of me (you know, when it comes right down to it). I am the only one who can scoop my battered being up and begin to heal things.
Sometimes I doubt that I know how to do that. But little things, bit by bit, remind me of myself. Chai lattes from Starbucks. Show tunes on Pandora. Breathing slowly and repeating my mantra over and over until I feel even again. “Leg Warmers” hanging on my wall. Breathing.
I make mistakes. But at the end of the day, I do try my best. And sometimes I will fail. But more often, I will succeed. And also, tomorrow is the last day of February. Whew.
D5 Creation