Just Because I Can
What magic might I invite into my life if I build in a little breathing room?
The sensations are difficult to describe. I feel some measure of pain all the time now. Not severe, not even bad, but it’s consistent. An uncomfortable awareness, like feeling individual planes of internal organs. Sometimes I feel a stabbing sensation, or waves of prickling, a deep, dull throb, a sandpaper burn. Sometimes it happens with movement, or when I am perfectly still.
Everyone asks, when did it start? It’s hard to know how far back to go. My first periods were not much to speak of, but within a year, maybe two, I was passing blood clots the size of a small plum. Cramps could bring me to tears. And even then, even before anyone had ever utter the words, I already believed it was my role to bear the pain without complaint.
Naps were discouraged, laying in bed outside of overnight sleep unallowed. To call out of school or after class jobs, one had to be running a high fever or convulsing over the toilet. Considering, it’s no wonder I have issues taking a break.
I always say I am not good at resting, but I want to be better.
It’s hard to know if the fatigue I feel is related to the disease, ongoing adrenal fatigue, or just being a person in the working world. Maybe all of the above. It can descend like a cloud or rise like fog. I feel enveloped from the inside out. What’s worse is the inflammation, that system-wide, fiery hum in blood and bone. It’s a little (or a lot) like having a constant, low-grade flu.
I am attempting to listen to my body. To rest when I need to rest. When I do, I am often recharged. It all depends on if I can get my mind to also settle.
Yesterday, a colleague said to me, “Just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you should.” We were talking about work, but it applies in all aspects of life. “Someone older and wiser told me that,” she said. “It’s a gem.”
I’ve lived much of my life swinging between YES and NO. I’ve said yes to so much, even when I didn’t want to, and paid the price of precious internal - and sometimes external - resources. I’ve also said no when a yes might have resulted in benefit, knowledge, and joy. I want to learn to slow down, to grant myself time and space to consider what is right for me, what I truly want, what will bring joy as well as benefit.
So often my focus is maximizing productivity, outcome over process. I lose sight of what makes the most sense in a given moment. I don’t think that’s my fault. I’ve been conditioned. (So have many of us.)
“You have the curse of competency,” said my colleague.
I woke early this morning, padded into the kitchen for coffee. When I reached for the light over the sink, a mammoth shadow caught my eye. A doe, standing at the edge of the back lawn beneath the barren lilac tree, faced the window. I froze, and for two or three seconds we each observed the other. Then she was gone, bounding through the snow and down the river bank, dissolving into darkness.
I have always believed animal sightings to be omens of well wishes, positivity. A sign. I do not need to know what for - the magic lives in the fleeting intersection of our lives.
I am grasping at bravery, doing my best not to worry, to let my stress - which is fear masquerading as something more complex - overtake my mind and body. Waiting is often the hardest part. I both dread surgery and ponder cancelation daily; I also cannot wait to be on the other side. With each passing day, I remind myself of where I will be this time next week. This time next week, you’ll be home in bed after surgery. This time next week you’ll be on day two of recovery. This time next week you’ll be through the worst of the pain…
Winter into spring is always a nutty time. Gearing up after the holidays is energetically like waking up from an ill-timed nap - head foggy and achy and demanded upon. My work will begging to slow down in June, but right now, I have extra long to-do lists accompanied by recovery, my mom’s visit, a vacation, and the artist residency. I could say I did not time these things well, but I only had so much control. So I roll with it.
The residency concludes on June 11th. I have no specific plans after this. As a project-oriented individual, I am rarely deadline free. Maybe I should remain this way, treat myself to the pleasure of being untethered. Just because I can do something, doesn’t mean I should…
What magic might I invite into my life if I build in a little breathing room?
For so many of us, our perception of time has been permanently impacted by the pandemic. Days of the week are mere suggestions of demarcation. I live by my calendar, my iPhone’s notifications of where to be when. I know I am getting older because time seems to pass with increasing speed. When I was 13, I thought I would never grow up. I can hardly believe that I am now 42 - halfway through my life, assuming I live to 84. I may be more than halfway. I think of my father, how he was halfway through life at 30. That is so young! I was a babe at 30. None of us know when we cross that threshold.
All we have is today, this moment, right now.