It's not that I haven't wanted to write; it just seems that I have spent a lot of time doing other things lately. While talking with my friend Robin today, I realized that I had committed to a plan two years ago on this date (that's how the project of 15 Before 30 got started). So, no matter how sleepy I am from travel, it's time to start writing...
I wrote this list of things to do before I turned 40, because I knew they would take a while, and I knew there was significance for each item to play a major part in my life. My 30's are a time of settling down, of reaching goals, and also of exploring and appreciating the world around me. I have always wanted to live a life of balance, but I feel more than ever that I need to find this balance in my life.
In the middle of December, I started feeling strange. I just felt TIRED all the time (I still do, really). I went to have a scan done by my dr (long story, but he was convinced I had another tumor), and they tried for almost an hour to complete the test. For some reason, my body was clotting the blood on contact, making the injection nearly impossible. When they went to change the needle, they pulled massive clots out. I thought I was dying, and wondered what on earth was happening to me.
So, I headed to my primary doctor and talked with her. She agreed to run blood work, and checked me over. I told her I was by no means depressed, but I felt VERY exhausted at this point. She said we'd find out the results the next day. I went home, and promptly went to bed.
I woke up the next morning, and I'll never forget the feeling. It was like my brain had no connection with my body. I had to go to the bathroom, but my brain wouldn't tell my body to get up and go. I felt spacey (what I imagine being stoned is like), and my face was tingly. I had a headache that hadn't gone away for a week at that point, so that was also nagging at me. When I went to speak to my son, I realized my speech was really slow.
I did what any logical level-headed person does when feeling this bad: I called the guy I've been dating (at work), and cried to him. Yeah, that was pretty uncharacteristic of me, so I'm guessing I felt BAD. I decided to go to the doctor and get looked at. My mother came home from work and drove me, because a shower almost did me in. When I arrived, the doctor took one look at me and sent me to the hospital. She noted that my left pupil wasn't dilating like it should, and my face numbness and weakness was concerning her. She was afraid I was having a stroke, and wanted imaging IMMEDIATELY.
Well, insurance can be a pain. I was sent for CT and CT-A scans, but insurance said they wanted four hours to review my file. I could be dead at that point, so my doctor told me to travel to Murfreesboro and go to the ER. That way, they could run the tests in less time, and potentially save my life. So, we took the trek up there, and sat for the evening.
I can say nothing but good things about the hospital in Murfreesboro. As soon as I came in, they already knew my situation (my doc had called ahead). I was processed quickly, and was hooked up to an EKG and had blood work within 10 minutes of arriving. They were really working hard to assess me quickly, and even had meds for pain and nausea within a pretty quick time. I started to feel better once I was there, but was still incredibly tired. I was also concerned about flying at this point (I would fly cross-country two days later).
I was told that what I had was a Transient Ischemic Attack (TIA), and it is otherwise referred to as a mini-stroke. Pretty much, blood flow was interrupted temporarily to the brain, which gave me all of those effects. I was put on aspirin to thin my blood, and told to rest, relax, and drink plenty of fluids. I was also told to see a neurologist SOON. There's a pretty decent risk of impending stroke if I do nothing, so that was a good wake-up call to evaluate life, and realize that I had a lot of control over the stress I was letting in my world.
So, as I sit here today, I am thinking about what it will take it get my life into balance. I take on too much stress of the life around me, and I know it will kill me. I've always been a kind, compassionate and hard-working person, and those traits can do a lot of harm if they aren't cultivated in the right setting.
I want to go back to school. I know I am already in the program, but I had to stop when the cancer arrived. I want to get back to learning about what I really enjoy, and finding a way to help people around me.
I want to look at how my skills can be matched with the world around me to leave me fulfilled. I know I am thirty-one and saying this, but I guess it's better than waking up miserable when I am 40 or 50. I know that I don't have to be happy every minute of my life, but I also know that I need to feel content, and I don't need to go on nerve pills just to exist.
I am enjoying the relationships and friendships around me, and I'd like to take time to cultivate those. I really love that I have three good female friends that I can lean on, and I enjoy a relaxed relationship with Jason. I like where I am at during this time, but I'd like to make sure I can keep these things going. I know that takes work and attention, but it's worth the time and effort for the great results.
I also need to complete a task off of my list. I was sitting here today, thinking about all of the projects, and about my life in general. It's been a pretty rocky 2013 for me, and I can't wait to push it out and welcome 2014. I decided my first project to be completed soon will be going to see the Before I Die Wall in New Orleans. I had come across this place and the idea of the trip in 2011, and have tabled the idea for two years. It's time for the project to continue, and I honestly can't think of a better place to go to get inspiration for how to live a life of balance, and to appreciate each moment. Once our travel plans are complete, I'll let you know the plan! :-)
I'll be spending a low-key New Year's Eve with someone special, so I won't be making a post before the end of the year. But I will be thinking about this project, and about making these changes in my life. If 2013 was the year of catastrophe, then 2014 can be the year of metamorphosis. Carly asked if humans go through metamorphosis like butterflies, and my response was "most definitely!" My explanation was a bit over her head, but I appreciated getting to tell my daughter that amazing things happen when the body goes through stresses and traumas to grow. We all change and evolve, and it's amazing to see how those past transgressions shape our current beings. 2014 will be a year of spreading my wings.
Showing posts with label metamorphosis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label metamorphosis. Show all posts
Monday, December 30, 2013
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Graduation
I sat here tonight and stared at the computer screen. I told myself I would be done with this project by last night, so I could give the seniors their gifts at the picnic. Yesterday came and went, and I tried to give myself an excuse ("I'm exhausted" has been the latest one, because it's mostly true!).
The reality is that I didn't do anything, because I didn't know what to write. Or rather, I didn't know if I should be truthful to them.
My idea was to give them a journal to record the next year of their life, and I would write them a letter in the front. But how do you write a touching and sentimental letter without sounding like a total sap, without making them cry, and without throwing in the "I've seen what's really important, and trust me- a lot of what you think is important isn't!!"
I want them to get out there and make their own lives, and I want them to take the chances and make the mistakes. That's where memories come from! If life goes perfectly as planned, there aren't a lot of great stories to share with others. Still, I was a bit guarded about what I needed to write. I took a moment to think about my high school graduation (which took forever, because no one warned ME to write things down!).
I told my mother after remembering, that I had a frontal lobe that developed way before everyone else. Her response: "you and your frontal lobe..." I love my mother, and the fact that she laughs at my response. The reality is I couldn't remember much about graduation, because I guess I knew there would be more important moments in my life. I remember that I wore my ruby slippers to the ceremony (when the rule was to wear black dress shoes). I remember that the picture of me shaking the principal and superintendent's hands while receiving my diploma feature their disdainful looks while looking down at my shoes. :-) I remember realizing that college was a reality, because there was no more high school left for me.
So I guess I felt doom. Expectations were out there, and I wondered if I could hack it.
No one told me to LIVE THEN. They told me to get out there, set goals, reach them, and have a great life. They didn't warn me that life was happening while I was trying to REACH the goals! No one warned me that whether I went to college for one month or ten years, that life was still going to happen; and that many of the things that happened to me were chance. And no one told me how bad regret would feel--how when I really took a good look back at that time of my life, I regretted not taking more chances. I was too terrified of failure- that the balls I was juggling would come tumbling down if I didn't keep up the pace.
Well, guess what? They came tumbling down. And I turned out just fine. And then I realized that, if anything, I wanted to warn the people that came after me. To let them know that it's ok to have big dreams, that they can achieve them, but that they need to include fun and experience along the way.
And without sounding like some downer or an overly spiritual person (in light of my current situation), I wanted to let them know that they shouldn't plan to live to be 100. Because they might stare in the mirror at age 30, and wonder how (and if) the next year will turn out. And then they will REALLY regret all of these chances they didn't take. And the retirement account they tried to create, or the savings for "when I live my life" won't really matter. And THEN, they'll wish someone told them.
So, my gift to these students? Yes, it's a journal and a letter. But really, it's a challenge. A challenge to get out there in the world and LIVE in it. To take risks, to make memories, and to record them. I don't want them to fear the world around them, and I want them to get out and explore every piece of it they can. And what happens if they fail? At least there's a story to tell. Heck, some of my best stories were from my failures. And I wanted them to know they don't need to be afraid to love. These really are my two big things I want to leave behind in this world, and a good start is in 30 journals to new adults.
Graduation is a cool thing in the metamorphosis of life; it symbolizes both an ending, and a new beginning. I guess everything is cyclical, but there are few great moments that are publicly celebrated as both. For us introspective folks, we can always see this reality. For new graduates, I imagine this duality is terrifying. I know great change is only scary when people focus on failure. When we see all the opportunity, and aren't afraid to fail, that is when we LIVE.
I also brought up my list I created, and how I have really lived more in the past two-three years than I did my whole life before then. I don't want them to feel the same way- I want their lives to start now. I can't control the future, but I can inspire it.
Last night we had the picnic of the National Honor Society, and all of the attendants were seniors. One member asked me, "is your treatment after graduation?" Earlier yesterday, I had the doctor call to try to schedule my treatment to start on graduation day. I know it sounded trivial to him, but I told him I couldn't miss graduation for treatment. I wanted to say goodbye before I moved on. And I have a feeling this student was feeling the same way.
I know that I have every possibility of making it through this treatment with little after-effect, and going on to live a relatively normal life. I also know there's a possibility of recurrence, or that my body will never be the same after treatment (that's the risk I had to weigh). And I know it was these thoughts that made it hard to write the letter. I tried not to capture the urgency of my final words, or something crazy like that. I wanted a message of hope, and something to inspire them.
Not something to remember me by.... I'll leave my manifesto for that. ;-)
The reality is that I didn't do anything, because I didn't know what to write. Or rather, I didn't know if I should be truthful to them.
My idea was to give them a journal to record the next year of their life, and I would write them a letter in the front. But how do you write a touching and sentimental letter without sounding like a total sap, without making them cry, and without throwing in the "I've seen what's really important, and trust me- a lot of what you think is important isn't!!"
I want them to get out there and make their own lives, and I want them to take the chances and make the mistakes. That's where memories come from! If life goes perfectly as planned, there aren't a lot of great stories to share with others. Still, I was a bit guarded about what I needed to write. I took a moment to think about my high school graduation (which took forever, because no one warned ME to write things down!).
I told my mother after remembering, that I had a frontal lobe that developed way before everyone else. Her response: "you and your frontal lobe..." I love my mother, and the fact that she laughs at my response. The reality is I couldn't remember much about graduation, because I guess I knew there would be more important moments in my life. I remember that I wore my ruby slippers to the ceremony (when the rule was to wear black dress shoes). I remember that the picture of me shaking the principal and superintendent's hands while receiving my diploma feature their disdainful looks while looking down at my shoes. :-) I remember realizing that college was a reality, because there was no more high school left for me.
So I guess I felt doom. Expectations were out there, and I wondered if I could hack it.
No one told me to LIVE THEN. They told me to get out there, set goals, reach them, and have a great life. They didn't warn me that life was happening while I was trying to REACH the goals! No one warned me that whether I went to college for one month or ten years, that life was still going to happen; and that many of the things that happened to me were chance. And no one told me how bad regret would feel--how when I really took a good look back at that time of my life, I regretted not taking more chances. I was too terrified of failure- that the balls I was juggling would come tumbling down if I didn't keep up the pace.
Well, guess what? They came tumbling down. And I turned out just fine. And then I realized that, if anything, I wanted to warn the people that came after me. To let them know that it's ok to have big dreams, that they can achieve them, but that they need to include fun and experience along the way.
And without sounding like some downer or an overly spiritual person (in light of my current situation), I wanted to let them know that they shouldn't plan to live to be 100. Because they might stare in the mirror at age 30, and wonder how (and if) the next year will turn out. And then they will REALLY regret all of these chances they didn't take. And the retirement account they tried to create, or the savings for "when I live my life" won't really matter. And THEN, they'll wish someone told them.
So, my gift to these students? Yes, it's a journal and a letter. But really, it's a challenge. A challenge to get out there in the world and LIVE in it. To take risks, to make memories, and to record them. I don't want them to fear the world around them, and I want them to get out and explore every piece of it they can. And what happens if they fail? At least there's a story to tell. Heck, some of my best stories were from my failures. And I wanted them to know they don't need to be afraid to love. These really are my two big things I want to leave behind in this world, and a good start is in 30 journals to new adults.
Graduation is a cool thing in the metamorphosis of life; it symbolizes both an ending, and a new beginning. I guess everything is cyclical, but there are few great moments that are publicly celebrated as both. For us introspective folks, we can always see this reality. For new graduates, I imagine this duality is terrifying. I know great change is only scary when people focus on failure. When we see all the opportunity, and aren't afraid to fail, that is when we LIVE.
I also brought up my list I created, and how I have really lived more in the past two-three years than I did my whole life before then. I don't want them to feel the same way- I want their lives to start now. I can't control the future, but I can inspire it.
Last night we had the picnic of the National Honor Society, and all of the attendants were seniors. One member asked me, "is your treatment after graduation?" Earlier yesterday, I had the doctor call to try to schedule my treatment to start on graduation day. I know it sounded trivial to him, but I told him I couldn't miss graduation for treatment. I wanted to say goodbye before I moved on. And I have a feeling this student was feeling the same way.
I know that I have every possibility of making it through this treatment with little after-effect, and going on to live a relatively normal life. I also know there's a possibility of recurrence, or that my body will never be the same after treatment (that's the risk I had to weigh). And I know it was these thoughts that made it hard to write the letter. I tried not to capture the urgency of my final words, or something crazy like that. I wanted a message of hope, and something to inspire them.
Not something to remember me by.... I'll leave my manifesto for that. ;-)
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