Just Breathe

The past week has been incredibly stressful, and I'm not sure why.

Wait, I have an idea why...

You know how there are said to be five stages of dealing with grief or a loss? It's a fluid process, and people move through the stages at different rates, and sometimes in different orders. Well, I think I've been going through sort of a grieving process. It's been four months since I had my broken leg and surgery, and I ended up with a visit to the hospital for blood clotting issues and a mini-stroke, then sat in the neurologist's office while she confirmed my fears of Essential Tremor and/or Parkinson's Disease (by fears I mean that I am smart enough to know what that can do to an active and excited young person).

So, my automatic response to any news like that is to pretend everything is great, and picture the ten thousand things I will do to show the world that I will overcome. If there's one thing you can do to tick me off, it's telling me I can't do something.  Even though people didn't actually SAY I couldn't do things, as a special education teacher, my mind automatically went to all of the things that will happen and how my life will never be the same.

On top of that, my shaking has been pronounced enough to start causing some injuries if I'm not careful. On a completely related note, I am thinking of retiring from mascara...

So, back to the process. After making the list of things I am going to do to show whatever is going on who's boss, I then fall into a funk. Man, I could write a manual on myself by now. I guess I need to give myself credit- a lot of people spend thousands on therapy to figure out what I already have. I have seen myself go through it before, and knew it was coming. I embraced the funk (NEVER thought I'd type that sentence in my life, so there's a first!).

It hit me when I had to resign from my job. Until then, I had been on medical leave, and I could pretend that everything was going to be great. This was just something simple, and I would bounce back in no time. Problem is that I spend 8-10 days a month at a medical facility, I have to put great care into most EVERYTHING that I do, and it's just getting worse. I think that bounceback is going to take a while...

As far as the job is concerned, it wasn't fair to the students for them to keep wondering if I was returning. I got into teaching because of the kids, and I know more than anything that they need consistency. They need it in behavior support, and they need it in teachers and staff. I couldn't lead them on when I honestly didn't know when I would be healthy to return. I also didn't want to return too soon, and risk having a MAJOR setback from stress (heart attack or stroke). I'd sucked up the stress for too long, and I knew it would eventually get to me.  So, I know I'll find something new that might balance everything out, and for right now I am going to focus on getting back to a balance. Find the new me. Some cool new age jargon like that...

So, during this funk, I was sitting in a chair and staring out the window. I had days when I honestly didn't want to move. It wasn't depression- it was just time where I could slow my body down. My body has caused so many symptoms, it's like I am always on high alert to notice things. I needed time to slow my body down so I could really think. It turns out those days were useful. I was able to prioritize some things, and make a plan for moving forward.

Today, I rejoined the yoga world. I had wanted to do it for some time, but I wasn't able to modify a lot of the positions to accommodate my leg. It turns out the knee is a pretty vital piece of the body, and every position change affects it (as I found out right after surgery!). This morning I went to run errands, then returned to stretch out and let my mind wander.

Actually, the video I used focused more on my breathing. I had to laugh at first, because it seems like such a simple task. Don't get me wrong- I love yoga, and I enjoy how relaxed I feel afterward. I have done various routines for many years, but I've never seen a video that spent the first twenty minutes leading me through various breathing exercises. The narrator told me to really feel my breath, and welcome it into every cell in my body.

I believe in traditional medicine, but I also believe a lot of alternative strategies work as well. Together, I think you can make a great treatment plan for a patient. No matter what I was wanting the meds to do, I wasn't focusing on a plan that would help me maintain and build some strength, work on my balance, and promote deep breathing and stress relief.  I think I finally found my missing piece!

After the yoga routine (4o minutes!), I decided to head outside for a walk. I had only walked short jaunts around the neighborhood, so this would be the first time I headed out any longer. I am going to my physiatrist on Friday, and I wanted to be able to give her an idea of what my body could do. I know it seems odd when people think "it's been four months, so why are you still hurting?" Well, the doctor looked at my wound and said the scar isn't even healed all the way, so everything under it is still working. He gave me an injection for all the inflammation in my actual knee, which is keeping healing from happening. Then, there's the broken bone, which does take a while (especially in a weight-bearing bone). He told me he wouldn't clear me for the football field for 9-12 months, and from what he hears, a special education classroom is a similar environment (insert laugh here).

I walked at a moderate pace for about 25 minutes, and took a path outside the neighborhood. I remember getting fairly far down the road and thinking "I sure hope I can walk all the way back!" and "maybe this is why I stay close to home?"  My leg was starting to bug me, and I knew it was going to be an interesting night. I know I have to push myself, but I also have to balance that with not causing more damage. So, I headed home and put it up for a while.

We headed over to my best friend Robin's house, and played with the kids and ate pizza for dinner. I was glad to be able to chat with a good friend, and enjoy some family time. This reminded me of another crucial component of my plan to feel better: I need to schedule more social time. In the past four months, I've had a habit of being a bit of a recluse. All of the medical appts have exhausted me, and that made me not want to get out and actually talk to people. Add to that the fact that I have felt yucky a few of the days, and I am surprised I didn't scream when I saw daylight today. I know I need to get out more, and today starts my plan in that respect.

In these stages that I'm going through, I guess I'd be Acceptance by now. I've made a plan, so I guess that comes after realizing life probably won't go back to the way it used to be.  That's ok; we just have to adjust. 

And breathe.

On Grief and Loss

Dealing with grief and loss can be a tough subject; when we talk about grieving the death of someone, we are entertaining two realities.  We have to deal with the idea that our loved one is no longer suffering, or found a peaceful way to go, but we are also looking at how our lives and roles will change now that she is gone.  I have met a lot of people that have advice on the topic, but no one has really clear answers.

Last night my maternal grandmother died.  She was only forty years older than me, and even though she was sick for some time, the shock still hit me.  Needless to say, I had a lot of strange dreams and a fairly sleepless night.  This morning I woke up and went to the doctor. I needed to get my mind off what happened, and figure out what I needed to do.  When bad things happen, I like to keep busy. I'm sure it doesn't do anything else than distract me, but my nervous energy can exhaust others.

When I came home, I asked my mother if I could do something. She had pulled out a picture of my grandparents to take with her on the trip, and I remarked that I liked the old black and white photos from my grandparents' wedding better. My mother agreed, but there was a problem: the wedding photos were on the wall at the cabin (2.5 hours away)...

Sounds like a distraction for me! I put Alex in the car and told him we were going on an adventure!  We headed off down the road, and it was a peaceful drive.  We talked about grandma, and about death.  He asked a lot of questions, and I gave fairly truthful answers.  We talked about memories of me growing up with her, and things I learned from having her around.  The conversation proved to be very therapeutic for me- I needed reminders of the good times.

After a while, he fell asleep.  I started thinking about my life, and about the fact that her illness consumed most of my memories.  She had good times, but she endured a lot of rain as well.  I guess I just knew that no matter how hard it is to say goodbye, knowing there is no more rain in heaven seems like a good ending.

When I drove up to the mountain, Alex was still asleep.  I had something to do before retrieving the photos...

I pulled up to the boat dock and got out of the car. I looked in the backseat, and Alex had his head resting on the door (he was OUT!).  I took my phone with me into the frigid air, and walked up to the water.  No one was there, because it was WINTER, and I knew I'd have some peace. I cued up "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)" on the iPhone, and stared out at the water.  It was so peaceful and serene, as I listened to the lyrics:

"So take the photographs and still frames in your mind,

Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time.

Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial,

For what it's worth, it was worth all the while.

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.

I hope you had the time of your life."

I picked up a stone and attempted to skip it out into the water, but it made a giant PLOP instead. I chuckled out loud, because even I could make a peaceful moment seem awkward.  I think Grandma might have appreciated the humor more than the overall gesture.

For as much rain that happened, there were good times too. I remember she taught me how to cook, and enlisted me to help make French toast every time I came to her house. That was a memory I was very conscious of when I taught Carly how to crack an egg for the first time.

And I remember reading a Mother Goose Rhymes book with her at her house. A few years ago, I stumbled across an old copy in a used bookstore in Hendersonville, TN, and squealed with delight.  This is something I could pass on to the next generation.

I was talking with someone on the phone today, and he mentioned traditions, and how we lose them with each generation.  He was right; that is probably the saddest part of losing someone.  Sometimes the legacy isn't carried on, but sometimes there is room for new traditions.  Sometimes we teach our children French toast recipes and nursery rhymes, and sometimes we invent new holiday traditions.  These moments draw on the good memories and help us feel close to our family line, and to the ones we've lost.

"So make the best of this test, and don't ask why.

It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time."

Yes, I am moving backwards in the song, but it is for a reason. Part of my evolution as a human being and as a whole person involved my grandmother. I really don't need to get into details, but I can say that I started out with so many more questions than answers.  While we don't want to lose people, perhaps it happened at the right time.  I'm finally at the point where I have learned the lessons, and where I am at peace.  I feel that is the same with a lot of family members, and maybe this is the way it needed to happen.  And I will be forever grateful that my mother shared last night (hours before her mother's passing) that she had a wonderful conversation with her mother that day.  Moments of closure are worth so much, and I know that this will provide my mother a lot of comfort in the days ahead.

Please say a special prayer for our family tonight.  It's always hard to simultaneously entertain those two realities of the relief of suffering, and missing a family member.  I brought the photos home to hand to my parents, and was thanked for my efforts.  I was thankful for the opportunity to help out, but I would say the closure I received today was most valuable of all.

The Waiting

I always hate the night before news. It can be good news or bad, but I always end up anxious, and I usually end up too introspective.  Although, as I've talked to people, I wouldn't trade my overthinking for anything. :-)

Tomorrow I meet with the surgeon to talk about the pathology results, to remove my stitches, and to hopefully make a real plan.  I will say that I have had the absolute best experience with Dr. Jeffrey Paffrath in Murfreesboro.  At first, when I was coming out of surgery, I wanted all of the answers, and I wanted them NOW.  He has been incredibly thorough, but he has also let me deal with each piece one at a time--he ensured I made it through surgery and had a night's rest before giving me the diagnosis, he told me we will talk more and needed to focus on calcium, then he has called and worked with me consistently over the past week to get my calcium back in an acceptable range, and now we deal with the next part.  I will say that his confidence in dealing with all of these issues has put my mind at ease quite a bit.  And for a person that has had her world turned upside-down, I will say that was quite a relief.

I will go ahead and tell you a few things I've observed over this week. First of all, the song "Live Like You Were Dying" should now be on my forever banned playlist. And right now, I get a little teary watching the sun rise and set.  I am not sure where I'm going with that, I've always liked both the rising and setting of the sun. For some reason, it's just too much for me right now.  But that brings me to a real point...

My aunt posted a little bit ago, in response to my last post. I am annoyingly positive, and I always have to be DOING something. This helps other people that are in crisis, but it does usually leave me exhausted if it's my own trauma.  I was speaking with a friend last night, and he said something interesting. We were talking about leadership and personality styles, and how different people were. I told him I wasn't sure where I fit- I didn't mind leading, but I really enjoyed supporting others.  He had an interesting thought: he said that I have thrived in the leadership I have had, but these were positions I had out of necessity. I didn't seek them, but I needed to be able to survive, and so I made the best. I think there was quite a bit of truth to it. As much as it looks like I am Rosie the Riveter, I'd rather be the supportive June Cleaver. But the opportunities such as these have yet to arise...

Which brings me back to my original point, pertaining to my fantastic Aunt Carol: she told me to be who I am, to look for that support, and to go through these stages of grief.  I know she's right. The truth? I am in tears as I write this... It's a delicate balance between maintaining control and losing it, and when I am a mother, and a teacher, a daughter, a friend, and a supporter to others, I worry that I won't be at my best. And I worry that once I fall down, it will be really hard to come back up. Or, I won't.

I like having plans- they comfort me. I know this seems like some colossal joke then, because none of this situation really has a plan. But in an effort to operate low-energy, I do feel like a plan would help. And I feel like a plan would also let me let others help me. I know so many people ask how they could help. I don't want to inconvenience people, and I also don't know what to tell them to do. I realize now they feel as helpless as me about all of this.  Maybe with some direction, we'll all start to make it through.

When I came home from the hospital, I had to sit the children down and explain to them what had happened. It's traumatizing for young children to have their only available parent disappear to the hospital for an extended period (though my parents were absolutely GREAT to help out!), for mommy to come home a whole day later than planned, with a giant cut and stitches across her neck, and for mommy to tell them that the doctor took cancer out. I hugged them, held them, and told them I loved them dearly. I told them the doctor got all he could, and will give mommy some medicine to take in a few weeks that should eat up all the rest of the cancer cells. For children that knew mommy was just going to have an operation and come home, I know this was a lot to handle. For a few days afterward, we were all in a fog. I admittedly lost my temper easily, they cried a little more than usual, and it was really just a miracle we are all sane now.

Last night, Alex, Carly and I sat on his bed and talked about all that had happened. We had been talking over the past days, but I know the kids didn't really know what to ask. I didn't push too much before, because I didn't know if I had the energy to answer the questions (or even the answers!). Last night, I went ahead and asked him if his extra crying was dealing with mommy's cancer news, or that she's been sick in the house. Even with the help of my parents, he's sensitive to me, and seems to react when I become ill. I figured that was the reason for the moodiness, and I was right. What I found in the conversation, is that he is just like me.

He wants to help, and he needs to know what to do. We talked about ways he can work on responsibility, help mommy around the house (which gives her more energy for fun things!), and help him relax about his worries. I answered their questions, told them everything will be ok, hugged them and kissed them, and we went to bed.

I think most people are like Alex, and when they know what to do, and have a purpose in the situation, then they feel calm. I am convinced that's why churches send food when bad things happen. When life hands you lemons, then send cakes and casseroles! It's sweet how people try to ease the burden of others. It restores my faith in humanity every time I see it.

I have seen a lot of that over the past few days at school. When you teach, you are part of a pretty tight community. I will admit that I felt like an outsider when I moved to the area last year, but they quickly welcomed me. Through this year, as the tests have moved toward the direction of surgery, people have been more quick to check on me and help in any way they could. When I got the diagnosis, and I told my family, I was comfortable enough to tell my boss, because he's that easy to talk to. It made it so much easier to know it was out there, and I didn't have to sit and worry about what I would tell him. And when I returned to work, over the past few days, people have been fantastic. Students have been honestly wanting to know how I have been doing(and though it's really public, I haven't shared the specifics with many outside those that I teach), because when you see teenagers for most of their day, you become family. Coworkers have stepped up to cover my classes when I couldn't make it through the day, and I will be honest: I was grateful when my boss looked me in the eye Tuesday, knew I wouldn't make it through the day (or the next few hours), but allowed me my stubborn pride to give it a shot. The last thing I wanted was to be babied. True, I didn't make it, but at least I wanted to give it my best shot.

This might all seem like rambling, and it probably is. There have been a lot of thoughts that have been floating in my head this week. There have been great thoughts, fantastic memories, and thoughts of what I want to do differently in the future. I have started to relax a bit, which I think will let me start to move through these stages of grief a little easier. 

I definitely don't have the answers, and I really don't even have a lot of the questions right now. Sometimes I feel like I am wandering around blindly, feeling for a light switch. I feel like if I can just turn the light ON, I can start to make sense of everything. The truth is I am wondering if the light would even help. This might be something I have to feel, sight unseen.

I feel like I want to say some things, but I also feel like I shouldn't go there. I am a firm believer in letting people know how you feel about them, but I also don't want to be a crazy person that leaves my manifesto. I am by no means giving up or acting sappy. But I do think that it's a good time to acknowledge important people in my life, and all they have done for me. We don't say kind things enough to each other, and I want that to end with me now. So, here goes (and this list is by no means exhaustive- it's a work in progress):

My mother- I want to thank her for being an incredible rock. She has been strong and steady, and seems to know what I want to hear. We bicker, but that's because we are so alike. We also have more fun laughing than two people deserve to in a hospital. I am grateful she has been here to support me through this week, and really for the past years of my life. No doubt it has been a roller coaster; she has always stood strong beside me, helping me stand up after each defeat.

My father- He is such a good man. I know he is lost in this situation, because there's nothing he can really do. He looked at me Tuesday, when I looked like death. I was crying before work, because I didn't know if I could do it. He told me, "You can do it! You can be a hero right NOW!" Carly quickly corrected him, that I didn't have a cape... But he has been the most fantastic support to my children, a wonderful father, and a great role model of how a husband should be. I am thankful for moving back home, and getting this chance to get to know him better.

My brother- He moved away to Seattle to follow his dreams, which makes me more happy than anything. I am insanely proud of him, and will tell anyone that will listen. He's a fantastic friend, a great father to his children, and he really stepped up to provide a lot of support to my children when they needed it the most. I have always been close with him, because whenever we moved, we were all we had. I remember sitting in the same room, him playing video games and me reading a book. I was always comforted by his proximity. I also remember the time I paid him to wear my high heels and break them in for prom... Watching him playing video games with his legs crossed and navy blue pumps was priceless. ;-)  We still have a great sense of humor, and I appreciate that I can call to talk when I need to. And that when we go awhile without talking, it's ok.

Allison, my sister-in-law- She started dating my brother when they were sixteen, so I have known her for almost half of her life. She has always been warm, loving and supportive, but is also incredibly honest with me. I love that we can talk honestly, and still communicate well. And I also love how much she loves my children (as I do hers!), and how much she has done to help them become great human beings!  She's a great mother to her babies, and a great friend. I love her very dearly. :-)

Robin, my best friend- When I moved home to Tullahoma, I was reunited with a friend from high school. I was never a big fan of being female friends, but Robin definitely proved me wrong. I remember meeting her for coffee, and having her say "why on earth haven't we been friends all along?!?" Because I knew that God had a plan, and he knew when we needed each other. He knew I would need someone that cut through the BS, and someone that pushed me to follow my dreams. He also required that this same person keep me laughing constantly, and always go home from our meetings in happy tears. I am so glad that such a transitional period in my life was met with such a good friend. 

Scarlett, my other best friend- I would say, that for a woman that doesn't have many female friends, I was blessed over the past two years. I am beyond thrilled to have Scarlett as my friend. She has been a great coworker, a wonderful lunch buddy, and someone I can be completely honest with. I appreciate her insight, the fact that we are both moms and share thoughts on this regularly, and how appreciative she is of my trying to help. :-) I am truly blessed to work with someone that has the interest of her coworkers, her students, and her friend at heart at all times. And when we went to the special education convention together, she stayed in her own bed. That owns her bonus points. :-D

I don't want this to go on all night, so I will be sure to continue these posts. I want to tell all of the people around me how I feel. I don't think they are wasted words of affirmation. I assure you I am not high at the moment--I just know that I enjoy hearing kind words. I know that this is one gift I can give others right now.

My final words...

I have two beautiful children, Alex and Carly, that are my world. I do think if they were not in the picture, I would have already given in, and wouldn't have left the bed. I love them fiercely and wonderfully, and can see so many beautiful, wonderful things in their future. I try so hard to be a good mother, and I am happy to hear and receive so much love in return. I remember being pregnant, and having many talks with God. All I wished for with each baby? 

I wanted a child that would show so much love to the world. I was convinced that two children that intensely loved those around them could be the greatest change I could make for the world. And I am determined to help them grow, to keep that passion and fire burning bright, and to show plenty of love to all of those around them.  I am proud of their compassionate, empathetic souls, and know that I have left such a beautiful legacy so far. 

The tears are drying, and I'll assure you there have been plenty while typing this post. I needed to get out a good cry, and usually the only way I can do that is by writing honestly.  I certainly don't want anyone to feel sorry for me, but my hope is that through my honest writing, you will get a gift as well. I am a person that has quite a big wall built around herself. I think it's time for the wall to come down. It'll take time, but this will be the best way to do it. So bear with me, and know I will be writing often.

And to end, because I am a geek at heart, one of my fantastically favorite quotes. Seems fitting about now:

“I went to the woods because 

I wanted to live deliberately, 

I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, 

To put to rout all that was not life 

and not when I had come to die 

Discover that I had not lived.”

 

-Henry David Thoreau

 

And no, I will not be camping anytime in the foreseeable future... LOL