Test Results

It’s been a long two weeks.

On a Tuesday afternoon my husband had a biopsy. His PSA numbers had risen to the point of raising some concern, and it was time to find out what was going on. His test results, we assumed, would be available by the end of the week.

It was an inaccurate assumption.

Winter weather moved in and life, including communication from the doctor’s office, came to a screeching halt for an additional week. Which gave us more than enough time to wonder just what those test results would have to say. Was it prostate cancer? If so, how aggressive? Would treatment be necessary? If so, what kind? What side effects? The longer we had to wait, the more we wanted to know the results. Until you have the information, it all swirls around in your head. Especially in the wee hours of the morning.

Today, his results came in, and there is no cancer.

Life has a way of reminding us that our days are both precious and precarious.

The precious is found in the here and nowness of our lives.

The precarious on the other side of a door that is not yet open.

No need to push on that door. It will open when the time comes, and not before.

Life In The Motherhood

It doesn’t matter if she is a stay-at-home mom, a mom who works outside of the home, a mom who works from an office in her home, a single mom, or a partnered mom. Life in the motherhood is a beast. A beauty of a beast perhaps, but a beast nonetheless.

Every mom I know reaches the end of her rope more often than she would like. And then feels guilty and ashamed about how she did or didn’t handle whatever it was that happened. Falling into bed on those nights, she knows that there are no do-overs for the day behind her, only the chance to do it differently tomorrow.

Every mom I know is tired to the core, and wonders if there will ever come a day when she isn’t exhausted.

Every mom I know cares deeply about being a really good mom, and yet wonders deep down inside if she will ever be good enough.

Every mom I know, more often than not, puts the needs of her children, and others for that matter, above her own.

Every mom I know has moments of feeling alone and isolated.

Every mom I know loves being a mom and has moments when she hates being a mom, and sometimes both at the same time.

Every mom I know can’t wait until she haas more time to herself even as she senses that time is flying by too fast.

Every mom I know is clear that she needs to make her own health and well-being a priority, and yet struggles to find the energy and resources to do so.

If I could, I would make universal childcare a reality starting today, along with affordable and easily accessible healthcare (including mental healthcare), early childhood education, quality public education, living wages, affordable nutritious food, and sensible gun control. I’d remove the politicians who don’t support those things, and replace them with those who do. I would if I could, but I can’t.

So.

Why am I writing about this? I’m not exactly sure except to say that I feel compelled to name the truth of what I see. To proclaim to all of the moms I know, and all of the ones I don’t, that I see you. I hear you, care about you, and am deeply grateful for all that you are doing to raise the next generation of humans. I will listen to you without offering easy words of advice. I will be a place where you can scream, cry, vent, rage, and swear, and will share my thoughts if asked and work hard to keep them to myself if not.

It has always taken a village to raise a child, but the village is harder to come by these days. Let’s be their village.

Milestones

“I’m going to say three words, and I want you to remember them.”

Chair

Lemon

Sunrise

Yesterday I had what is called a Medicare Wellness Exam. We covered all the basics of a normal exam, with the addition of a few new twists now that I am old enough to be a card carrying Medicare recipient. Like remembering those three words, which the PA asked me to recall and repeat several times throughout the visit.

That exam was a milestone event even if no one said so. It was a stark reminder that I’m on the far side of youth, and that my final horizon here on this planet is getting closer every day.

Milestones aren’t reserved for those of us with at least 65 trips around the sun. They belong to the forty-something with their first pair of readers, new parents with someone other than themselves to care for, a high school graduate paying their first month’s rent, a recent retiree with time to spare, or a child wobbling off on a bicycle without the steadying hand of a parent.

We are all heading in the same direction, and there’s no turning back.

Every milestone is a reminder to be all-in, and if we aren’t, then today is the day to start.

(And yes, I still remember them.)

Chair

Lemon

Sunrise

Photo by erdinç ersoy from Pexels

Hitting The Reset Button

“It’s never too late to be what you might have been.”

~ George Elliot

After a year of slow recovery and rehabbing from an injury, and taking my eye off the nutrition ball a little too much, it is time to reclaim the good habits that I’ve come to know support the kind of health, wellness, energy, and body I need for the life I want to live.

Today I hit the reset button.

Today I started the Whole30.

According to the founders, it is a “short-term nutrition reset, designed to help you put an end to unhealthy cravings and habits, restore a healthy metabolism, heal your digestive tract, and balance your immune system.”

In a nutshell, it means eliminating sugar of any kind, alcohol, grains, legumes, dairy, and all additives. I can, however, have coffee, which is the only thing that makes it possible. It may not work for everyone, and I’m not advocating it for anyone else, but it works for me.

Hitting the reset button is always an option, and not just for our health, but for our finances, marriages, friendships, family, education, work, mental, emotional, and spiritual health, not to mention our closets and garages.

If we’re honest with ourselves, we know when we’ve gotten off track, become immobilized, or have lost our way, and the sooner we hit the reset button, the sooner we can get on with living the life we want. The one we are called to live. The one that is authentic and wholehearted. The one that connects how we live with who we are at our core.

It’s never too late to hit the reset button.

Growing Pains

  On August 20th I posted about working my way through an injury. As the work continues, I continue to  learn about the importance of listening to our pain. 

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 “Your wound is probably not your fault, but your healing is your responsibility.”

~ Denise Frohman Poet, Writer, Performer

I’ve never lived with chronic physical pain before, and I have a newfound empathy and compassion for those who do. Up until this past year, any aches and pains that I have had have been fleeting. This particular pain however has settled in and made itself comfortable.

It was the pain that first alerted me that all was not well when everyday things like walking, sitting, standing, and sleeping that hadn’t been painful to do before, now were. With the good help of my healthcare team we identified the source of the pain, charted my healing course, and paved a road to recovery. 

My marching orders are to continue to walk with the pain rather than push through it, and listen to the pain rather than silence it with painkillers. This means that I continue to do a little more each day, taking pains to keep the pain at or below its current level. Push through it, and I risk losing my hard won progress. Silence it with narcotics, and I’m in danger of missing the protective signals that pain faithfully sends my way. 

Mine is a marathon, not a sprint. Steady steps result in steady progress, and it is the pain that continues to blaze my trail.

Six months ago I couldn’t walk down our half-mile road much less up a steep hill. Today, I can walk eight miles in a day, and hike up increasingly steep trails. As I stay the course, my healing continues and my strength grows. While not yet free of her, pain has proven to be a faithful companion, and when her work is done, I have faith that she will move on.

When it comes to pain, what is true for my body has proven true for my soul. 

When emotional pain settles in and makes itself comfortable, I am learning to see it as an invitation to step onto another kind of road to recovery. Sometimes it has taken the good help of a professional to help me chart my healing course. My inner-pain asks me to walk with it, not push through it, and invites me to listen to it, not silence it with one of my many chosen painkillers. 

The path to wholeness is a marathon, not a sprint, and steady steps result in steady progress. 

As I stay the course, my inner healing continues and I grow more whole. Pain has proven herself to be a faithful companion, and when her work is done, I have faith that she will move on. 

Rise and Shine

Recently I was lucky enough to spend a week at Rancho La Puerta in Tecate, Baja California, Mexico as a presenter. I was there to talk about the importance of "Trusting Your Own Magnet" - how to sense where life is calling you, and how you might get there.  My youngest daughter  Lauren came with me, and every morning we were up early, sitting out on the veranda with our sacred first cups of French Press coffee and setting our intentions for the day. Not surprisingly, our days unfolded with a sense of ease, space and grace.  It. Was. Glorious.

But when someone is serving you beautiful, organic meals made from vegetables just harvested from the Ranch garden and prepared by people who pray over and bless the food before serving it, making your bed in the morning and turning it down at night, leading you in quiet meditations, massaging and herbal wrapping your body, and serving you just made smoothies... well... if my day didn't go well.... #suckstobeme.

One afternoon fellow presenter Lindsay Sherry, a certified nutritionist and holistic health coach, was sharing 8 Tips for Creating Your Best and Healthiest Life!. Tip number one, numero uno, at the top of the heap? Take time in the morning just for you. Her words rang true. The ones that resonated even more? If we're going to win the day, we have to win the first hour. Period. End of sentence. It's as simple as that, and as hard as it gets. Especially when you're not at a world-class health spa with gracious people attending to your every need.

Back home, in the midst of the magic and the mess that is my real life, with meals to cook and beds to make, laundry to do and bills to pay, relationships to tend to and emails to write, it's a little tricker. And yet those morning hours set the table for the rest of the day. They really do. And if I let the table get set for me (hello depressing news, toxic tweets, social media rabbit holes, hitting the snooze button - again, and fake food for breakfast) I shouldn't be surprised if my daily bread tastes stale. Thankfully I came home from the Ranch committed to becoming committed to winning my first hour. Currently, this is what that looks like:

• Up at 5:30ish, hopefully after at least 7 hours of sleep
• Out on the porch sipping Sleepy Monk French Press coffee out of my favorite  before 6:00
• 20 minutes of meditation (or at least pretending to meditate)
• A little inspirational reading (sometimes only time for a sentence or two)
• Off to the gym for a workout

I wish I could tell you that I got it right every day. But I don't. I wish I could tell you that I was up to an hour of meditation a day and have found inner peace unlike ever before. But I'm lucky to get in that 20 minutes, and inner peace is a total crap shoot. What I can tell you is that I am learning to trust the practice and just get up and do it. I am finding a tiny sliver  of inner calm that I can access a wee bit easier. Rather than react, I'm a tiny bit more able to take a deep breath and a step back. With more time in the gym my energy is increasing as is my muscle tone. My morning practice to win the day is a work in progress, and comparing mine to that of anyone else doesn't help. I seem to be in pretty good company about that. In The Book of Joy, Archbishop Desmond Tutu dismisses his own morning meditation practice when compared to His Holiness the Dalai Lama's of arising at 3:00am for five hours of prayer and meditation. The Archbishop doesn't haul his sorry ass out of bed until 4:00am and then only manages to squeeze in three or four hours of prayer and meditation. Like Teddy Roosevelt said, "Comparison is the Thief of Joy." 

I've been a morning person for as long as I can remember. Apparently I arrived on the planet wired to get up before the sun does. But being an early riser does not a good day make. What we do when our feet hit the floor does.