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1jan22
Here we are again, at the start of another year.
Life is unrelenting … but it is also infinite.
I’m sitting on our bed in our second home, Avengers: Endgame playing on an iPad, husband scrolling, both of us exhausted from a day that began at a sprint and ended there, with little respite in between. Tonight is not much different than other nights, nothing much shifted from who we were last year (aka yesterday), nothing changed so drastically as to effect how we fall asleep at night. We are the same people, wearing the same pajamas, doing the same things, finding comfort in the same sounds, the same words. Doing the same routines – Lucy’s eye drops and my skincare and foam rolling. Teeth brushing and winding down. Today doesn’t look much different than yesterday because it isn’t.
Time doesn’t work like that.
I make resolutions every year but they are usually the same. A reset, a ‘get back on track’ reminder tied in the bow of a new year. In truth, most of my resolutions have happened on odd days throughout the year, when I’ve just decided to change and just decided to stick to it. January First comes with too much baggage, too much expectation, too much pressure to be something I am inherently not.
I will blog. I will stay off social media. I will ride the Peloton. I will work toward my goals. I will be consistent and simultaneously inconsistent. I will live.
Along the way I will learn and grow. My thoughts on life and the philosophy of living will shift, sometimes imperceptibly. And maybe next January First I will look back at this woman I am now, and realize that I have changed. I will be able to see the sum of all the small parts and hopefully — I will feel proud.
Xoxo, g
Day 361
It’s been a weird month.
This morning, a Monday, I got up, put on the same type of clothing I always put on (workout gear) and began the day. Even though husband has been laid up and living in his office for the past week. Even though there was nothing to do, nowhere to go. Even though I was feeling adrift.
And now, as I sit on the couch, sipping my chai as snow softly drifts to the ground, I feel at peace. Life isn’t easy. Life can be pretty unfair and difficult and destabilizing. I think I front-loaded a lot of my trauma — even MS doesn’t feel bad every day all day. But maybe it all has a little more to do with awareness than anything else. Being present, having the ability to realize that life *can* happen to me, or I can live. It’s up to me.
I am always tired. True. But not so tired I can’t live. And there’s maybe a little more planning and thought that goes into my travel, my movements through the world. But I get to do those things with husby and for that, I am eternally grateful. I get to do those things, full stop. That is a blessing.
Life is about learning and growing. And doing it the best we all can within the world we create for ourselves. I think I’m doing my best. I think I’m learning and growing and finding peace in my own truths, my own choices.
Xoxo, g
Day 340
I’ve been struggling lately with social media.
I know, I know. This is not a new theme. It’s tired and annoying and honestly, I really *want* to stop thinking about it. But here we are and it is what it is. I’m troubled and I can’t find peace.
A few days ago I posted (obviously) that I was stepping back from my Instagram indefinitely. Because Instagram is my kryptonite. I fall down a rabbit hole that leads to massive lost time, usually feeling bad about myself for missing some relevant cause or issue I should have acknowledged and angry for spending my time looking at other people’s (curated) lives instead of living my own.
Today, walking up the stairs I looked back at our Christmas tree, thought how beautiful it looked and immediately reached for my phone (which luckily I didn’t have on me). Because if I don’t take a photo and immediately post it with a pithy comment downplaying my joy and pleasure in deference to being clever and slightly ‘bored’ … then did that moment even happen? Does anything exist anymore without public documentation and commentary?
And social media etiquette… oof. Just absolutely exhausting and ever-changing. I have been wondering for a long time how much time I’ve watched drift away in pursuit of a perfect online persona.
Too much. That’s how much. And for what reward? Lots of views or likes? What does that even mean anymore when we can’t even stand in a line without pulling out our phones and scrolling? Sure, lots of people saw my cute picture of Lucy (with my implied eye roll and simultaneous heart eyes). But why … cuz they care about me or Lucy? Or because they can take a peak into my life without having actual contact or a relationship with me?
It sort of stresses me out.
Anyway. That’s me today. On Day #2 of no Instagram. For the second time this year.
xox, g
Day 314
Every time the seasons change I am convinced that my MS is going to kill me. That I did something to make everything so much worse and it’s the beginning of the end. All the work, all the effort to stay as healthy as possible has been for naught. I have failed and MS has taken control.
And then I remember that this happens every time the weather changes and to just give myself a break from the anxiety and panic and worry. Easier said that done. Isn’t that the truth about so many things?
It has been a long learned lesson that I still forget every few months. Right now I’m dragging, my eyes tired and my brain short-circuiting like wires doused in water. I’m praying that the temperature drops and stays low, because these forays back into the 70s kill me. Every. Single. Time.
It’s a hard assignment – learning how to best live. I don’t think it matters if you have an autoimmune disease or are just human. Figuring out how to live — really live — is exceptionally hard. There are pitfalls and doubts. There are difficult questions you don’t know the answers to. It feels scary and intimidating and never-ending.
And it comes back to a simple question — Who am I?
Not “Who was I” or “Who do people think I am?” or even “Who do I want to be?”
Just … Who am I?
I have a million answers and none. I breath in and breath out, my fingers hovering over the keys. Who am I ….
Tough question.
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
D5 Creation