An Overabundance of Perspective

Just when I think I have all the life perspective I can possibly handle, the universe finds a way to shove some more down my throat.

I have spent the last month dealing with the unraveling of one of the few aspects of my life that has remained more or less stable through this mess: my physical health. I went to the doctor in early February to get an explanation for some highly unpleasant symptoms I was experiencing, and came away with the number of a specialist and the name of the very cancer that killed my grandfather a few years ago echoing in my ears.

The wait between that initial doctor’s appointment and my appointment with the specialist was awful. The wait between the specialist’s appointment and the procedure he wanted to do to rule out cancer was even worse. I had to make a very unpleasant call to beg for a halt to some of the other things going on in my life (things that necessitated The Reinvention Project in the first place, and things I just want to END, not drag out) so I wouldn’t lose my medical insurance. I had flashbacks to when my grandfather died. I had nightmares about having cancer, and all the things that could go wrong. I ran scenarios in my mind about whether I’d even be able to handle such a blow after all the blows I’ve already taken. If there was anything that would trump every other disaster in my life that I’ve been clawing my way through, it would be a cancer diagnosis.

This last Tuesday I found myself being checked in to the hospital, with a friend beside me who I will love forever for stepping in to fill the void left by the person who decided seven months ago that standing by my side was no longer a job description they wanted. This friend stayed with me until the second I was wheeled away for my procedure, suffering through my inevitable freak-out at being in the hospital and having an IV put into my arm (even typing the words makes my heart rate go up—I do not do well with hospitals, and have a phobia of needles that makes all things medical akin to psychological torture for me). She was also the first face I saw and the first voice I heard when I came out of anesthesia afterwards, and though I’ve forgotten the bulk of what happened between when they first gave me the anesthesia and when I was wheeled out of the hospital to my friend’s car due to the medication’s effects on my short-term memory, I will never, as long as I live, forget that her presence kept me calm and feeling not alone.

Feeling “not alone” while you’re waiting to hear if you have cancer is a very, very important thing.

And, as it turns out, I do NOT have cancer. I had something else, which has since healed, and I am as healthy as I ever was. But in that short amount of time when the possibility loomed, I gained yet more perspective on this life I’m trying to rebuild from the ground up. Hence today’s lesson…

Lesson of the Day: Living may sometimes suck, but the alternative is unacceptable.

Sorting Out My Priorities

It has been, to put it mildly, a rough few weeks. A lot of that waiting I talked about a few posts ago took a giant step forward, and instead of being relieved I found myself relapsing into a depressive episode on a level I honestly thought I was beyond. So, I can now personally attest to another truth about depression: it is entirely possible to experience a relapse. (For more information on depression, see my January 28, 2010 post, Taking Down Depression.) No wonder it’s known to be such an insidious illness.

At any rate, there has been a lot of “just making it through” going on, and that hasn’t left me with either the energy or desire for much of anything else. The tactics I’ve been using for the last six months to keep my head on straight aren’t as effective as they used to be. My patience for all this *waves arms around wildly* is waning. It’s time to step up The Reinvention Project. I’ve decided to try to think a bit further into the future; to look to the ever-nebulous “other side” I will supposedly come out on when everything making my life a whirlwind of discontent finally resolves itself. If I can visualize this new life of mine, maybe it will be easier to hold out for it. To that end, I decided to make a list.

I jumped on to http://www.tadalist.com/, a lovely website devoted to list-making, and created the following:

Adventures for 2010
~ hot air balloon ride
~ skydiving on my birthday
~ hiking to waterfalls in the spring
~ run three 5Ks
~ join a writers group

The first three items are things I’ve been dying to do for years, and the opportunities just didn’t present themselves in my old life (I have a specific state park in mind for the hiking). The last two items are geared towards personal improvement for the benefit of my new life. The important thing about this list is that each thing is completely do-able this year. Only the first two items cost any significant amount of money, and neither cost is prohibitive.

One of the facets of my new life that I’m most eager to incorporate is not waiting so long to do the things I truly want to do. One of the hard lessons I’ve learned is that life is unpredictable. You can have it all planned out one day, and not know which way is up the next. Life itself will get in the way of you doing any actual living if you let it. As I am rebuilding from the ground up, now seems like the perfect time to make sure that doesn’t happen anymore. The things I want to do, the adventures I want to have, are going to take a much higher priority in my new life. That knowledge is getting me through when other distractions fail.

The above list-in-progress will seem inane to most people, I imagine. Plenty of people couldn’t care less about waterfalls, and relatively few have the urge to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. But are you prepared to deny that you have such a list in the back of your mind? If you sat down right now with a pen and paper, what small things have you been dying to do, or try, or see, that you keep putting off? Forget about expensive dream vacations (Rome is on my personal long-term wish list) or the desire to change careers. Think smaller. Is there a play you want to see? A favorite band in concert? Have you always wanted to try a particular craft? Maybe you have a secret desire to try an online computer game. Or go to a tasting at a local winery.

You think about these things from time to time, and each time you think to yourself, “Someday soon I’m actually going to make this happen. Maybe next month. Maybe next year.” But soon never seems to arrive, and the months pass, and the years pass, and life gets in the way of all your best intentions. It happens to us all. My list has been with me for years. But you know what? Six months ago that list was longer. I’ve already begun to check things off. And each checkmark is another completion of something important to me. Something that makes my life richer, more colorful. And isn’t that the point of life, after all? To live it?

Lesson of the Day: Life is for living. Make it happen.

Looking Out for #1

Society has drummed into us that “selfish” is a dirty word. From an early age, we’re taught to share our toys, put others’ feelings before our own, and give our time and money to worthy people and causes. Somewhere between letting our little brothers play with our favorite matchbox car and donating $50 to the Red Cross, we have lost the ability to take care of ourselves without a lingering sense of guilt.

That knee-jerk guilt reaction is something I have had to get over in the last several months. Selfishness, I have learned, is not something to be shoved shamefully into a dark corner. Instead, it is a lifeline to my sanity. I have always been good at taking care of others. I’ve been called a nurturer by many family members and friends, and I’ve always enjoyed the label. I like making other people happy, and I like knowing that my friends and family trust that they can come to me, day or night, if they need anything. Taking care of myself has always been an afterthought, as I never felt any real cause to do so—I’m usually content if those around me are, and I’ve never truly been in a situation where I had to monitor my own emotions so closely. Until now.

So, one aspect of The Reinvention Project involves a resolution of sorts: to put myself first, to address my needs, and to let the rest of the world handle itself for a while. In a word, to be selfish. I don’t mean that I’ve cut myself off from the world’s problems, or that I ignore those family and friends who come to me. Rather, I have simply moved myself to the top of my list of priorities. It’s not an easy thing for me to do, and I’m willing to bet that if you look at your own list of priorities, you may not even make the top five.

How am I going about fulfilling this resolution? It’s been simpler than I ever imagined, and in fact, most of the time it’s something so small that I am amazed I never did it before. For instance, I’ll light candles in my living room while I’m studying in the evening—I love candlelight; I find it incredibly relaxing. I guiltlessly set aside time to watch my favorite TV shows (Dirty Jobs, MythBusters, Bones, and Ghost Whisperer) when they’re on—no TiVo, no DVR. I do Tae Bo to keep my body feeling good. In direct contrast to Tae Bo, I will sometimes have ice cream for dinner (a useful life formula? Chocolate = Win). Basically, I give myself permission to do what makes me happy, sometimes regardless of what I feel I should be doing (cleaning, studying, sleeping). It has helped me find some measure of happiness for myself when everything else seems woefully unhappy in my life. And that is more important than anything else I “should” be attending to.

Lesson of the Day: To thine own self be attentive.