The Power of Tabling It

Friday was another absolutely infuriating, frustrating, hair-tearing-out-day full of phone calls, in-person trips, and dead ends trying to figure out how to get my health insurance to cover the medication. That morning, I had made a phone call and come up with a solution that I thought might work. Unfortunately, no such luck. By late afternoon, any hope I felt that morning had evaporated. I felt as if my life was a giant sink and I was being sucked unceremoniously down the drain. And, then (to mix metaphors completely), I made the purposeful and empowering, but completely uncharacteristic, decision to table it for the weekend. It was hard, especially the first 45 minutes,  because I desperately wanted to vent, rant, cry, and gnash my teeth to anyone who would listen. But, that would have added to my misery and I had already spent several hours that day focused on trying to resolve this issue to know avail. 

After a good cry, I forced myself to reopen my computer, to bring the current chapter up to the screen, and to refocus on my dissertation work and just those gestures helped immensely. The thing is, generally, I am a genuinely terrible table-er. In part this is because I am absolutely convinced that tabling will never work. How can not focusing on the problem even for a short period of time work or possibly be useful? Or, how can I possibly table X, Y, or Z when anyone can see it is WRECKING my life and I am at its mercy? But table it for 48 hours, I did. And helpful it was. 

So, here's what I did instead of agonize: The next day, I took a bike ride and stopped by the bike store to pick up a tiny bag for my seat to hold my wallet, keys, and phone), so I can bike unencumbered. I rode the beautiful course around the golf course (3 miles). I attended a lovely baby shower. I made dinner for a friend. I talked on the phone and I cleaned my house and made it more comfortable and presentable. 

And guess what? Today, Monday, I feel genuinely better. Imagine that. Proving, once again, that sometimes what I instinctually do is absolutely the wrong approach and that what I am convinced won't help can be absolutely necessary. 

Necessary Reminder

"You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves." - From Mary Oliver's Poem Wild Geese

Tell. It. Mary Oliver. Tell it! 
I have always loved to bike ride. My first bike was a blue and candy pink number with butterflies and multi-colored streamers flickering from the handle bars. In my childhood, having wheels meant freedom. My gang and I biked to the pool and to the park, biked to explore the islands off the local rivers, biked to picnic, and biked several towns over (this was the serious advantage of growing up overseas where bike paths are everywhere) to hang out for the day. After my parents separated and we moved back to the States, I spent much of my seventh grade year (the worst year e.v.e.r. to be introduced to the American school system), biking the town with my friend and neighbor, Amy. At the time, we lived in a small town with a beautiful lake and lots of hills, so Amy and I would alternately, bike around the lake (7 miles, baby) or climb the steepest hills in our town in order to rest at the top for a few moments and then soar down the hill at full throttle. I began to bike again a few years ago when I plunked down the coin for a good hybrid bike (fat wheels, upright handle bars, no cross bar), but I haven't ridden all winter and now that it is spring, I have been eager to ride again. 

I live in a beautiful semi-rural area and now that I have a car, I have more options to drive out, park, and explore the region by bike. I devoted much of the last week to getting my trunk rack, which has been a whole project (research, reading reviews, and several trips to the bike shop) and I now have a secure trunk rack on my car for my bike that will allow me to tool around my county, park, and ride. Yesterday, I loaded up my bike and went for my first ride of the season out by the nature reserves. It was a windy, cool, sunny and beautiful day. I arrived around six and the parks and paths were almost empty. I biked up the path, over the stream, and alongside the woods. I felt bliss-full, joyous, at peace. I was having trouble with my bike seat - I couldn't get it to budge and therefore was riding too low (a problem I resolved once back at the car where I had the tool I needed to correct the problem), so I did not explore as far as I wanted to, but it felt great just getting out, pedaling, letting the wind wash over me. 

The stress that I had been feeling when I arrived at the park? Vanished. Another reminder, in fact the manillioneth reminder that feeling good is just about feeling good, it is not about actually getting anything solved or resolved. Even more importantly, feeling good does not have much necessary correlation to being good or walking through the dessert on my knees, repenting I am delighted to discover. I needed that reminder. 

Coming to Grips (Again)

A friend of mine who has a chronic illness and I have recently begun to meet every two weeks to discuss our experiences with our new diagnoses. Each time, we choose a topic to focus on for our meeting. During our first meeting, two weeks ago, we discussed managing daily tasks (chores, school work, jobs) with limited energy and/or during flare ups. During this upcoming meeting, we will discuss creating and sustaining a support system. While this topic is broad, we plan to discuss how to talk about our chronic illness with friends and families, how to set limits and boundaries, how to maintain friendships, and how to build support with professionals and support organizations. As I begun to prepare for our our topic, I began to think about how the most crucial step, the foundation of all of our topics, in fact, is honesty with myself. How can I clearly communicate with anyone what my needs are or be proactive in building my support system if I myself am not clear with myself where I am at. 

For me, I have felt more fragile lately. It doesn't take much these days for me to feel hurt, sad, or overwhelmed, or thrown off balance. I have also been feeling very irritable. Whereas normally I pride myself on being available and being an empathetic listener, lately my ability to be available is very limited. I feel profoundly depleted. At the same time, these states wax and wane--always present to a degree, but sometimes much more intense than others. What has been challenging is staying in touch with how I am feeling and communicating it when it is so in flux.

In addition, I have noticed how much pressure I feel from myself right now. After all, I am not actually ill, I tell myself, so quit whining! It's hard to come to terms both with my illness and with my feelings because they are both invisible, so I find myself questioning their legitimacy and I struggle with how to assess and address my needs. 

I found a great quiz "The Coping with Chronic Illness Self-Care Quiz" by Pauline A. Salvucci (find the whole quiz here at: http://www.healingwell.com/library/health/salvucci2.asp). She asks questions such as: Do you follow your doctor's treatment plan? Do you more than accept or deny your illness? Have you made changes to your self-care since your diagnosis? As I answered these questions for myself, I realize that I am still grappling with what my illness means because I am completely unclear how this illness will manifest. 

In the meantime, I am not coping as well as I could be. Instead, I am vacillating wildly between scrambling to shore myself up against future possibilities and denial because I am not currently experiencing any symptoms. Perhaps even more importantly, though, is that I feel like I have been left completely to my own devices to come up with a comprehensive treatment plan and to sort through the overwhelming information and claims of "cures". So, I have been casting about wildly, but without a clear vision or understanding of my plan. What I decide on Monday, I completely abandon by Wednesday. I need a clearer way of thinking through and creating a plan for wellness--I need to write down guidelines for myself and make a commitment to it. 

Interestingly, and perplexing, I think my brain is short-circuiting partially because nothing I do will "cure" my condition. In the face of the incurable, it has been easy to throw up my hands and think, what's the use of getting enough sleep or eating well, how much can it really do, anyway? Irrational, but true!

This is all still so new; it's only been four months since I have received a definitive diagnosis. This knowledge gives me some patience and compassion and the answers to my quiz give me a place to start coming to better terms with this illness in such a way that addresses comprehensive wellness. And, it begins by writing down a plan.