Learn, Think, Write

Actually, the headline is a lie.

I started writing after days and days of depressing gray, cold weather. I’d heard Rhode Island was beautiful in September and October. This year, not so much.

But today the sun is out, and it looks like a week of beautiful 60 degree weather. I am grateful for this, our last week in RI.

1. How affected I am by the weather.
2. That body image crap stays with you, even into your 70’s
3. How routine helps with everything from exercise to reading.
4. How lucky I am to have two lovely places to call home.

Speaking of routines, I have been pretty much sticking to my morning routine again: wake up and make Aeropress coffee with a scoop of Fortibone collagen for my osteoporosis, check emails and instagram (I know, I know), throw down the yoga mat for 15 minutes of stretches and weight lifting- count to ten on each move, then eat a healthy breakfast of oatmeal or high-protein, low sugar granola with a banana followed by vitamins (CoQ10, D, and multi).

The days I don’t manage this, I can tell something is off. In a week, we head back to Virginia for the winter, so I’ll have to regroup in a new space. Somehow leaving this year seems easier. I haven’t started getting teary-eyed every time I think of packing up the car.

But I did run down to the dock to capture this yesterday. So, sometimes disrupting the routine is well worth it.

But that’s not why I am here again.

Since I last wrote, I:

• had my 72 birthday. Suddenly, the urgency to get it all done has hit me in the face. I know my time may be limited in this world, and I still have so much I want to do. Build relationships with all my grandchildren, travel, learn to cook one great meal for guests, get my grandparents’ house into shape so I can hand it over to my children, and continue to find peace in my life. Days that once seemed endless now feel precious.
• decided to continue my volunteer work on conservation boards. Sure, it’s time consuming but what could be better than saving a beach or protecting green space? Plus, I’m learning how to use a new database, so I’m challenging my mind to grow! That’s called developing neuroplasticity— my brain’s ability to form new neural connections. I do need to balance the stress of nonstop meetings and the need to sit on the beach or walk around the pond.
• fell off the “morning routine” wagon. Even though I know the importance of morning routines and had been fairly consisten for a couple of years, I stopped when I moved back to Rhode Island for 5 months. Engaging in healthy habits like stretching, eating a breakfast with protein and good carbs, or practicing mindfulness (my writing and meditating routines)— these improve my physical health and emotional health. It’s time to start again, a topic I’ve written about before.

So, here I am. Writing, exercising, eating a healthy breakfast and ready to start my day. And if I create weird-looking Procreate pictures, I will laugh at myself. Not taking ourselves too seriously creates humility, allowing us to recognize our imperfections without being weighed down by them.

Let’s see if this holds…

I have always loved Eleanor Roosevelt’s quote: It is better to light one small candle than curse the darkness. I reminded myself of that during the past two weeks when my health took a turn. First I managed to get an ITB injury on my hip, which made it hard to exercise. Then I ended up with an arm impingement which kept me awake for days every time I rolled over on it. Of course I was still learning about my osteoporosis, and ended up getting some tests to see where I should go with that

Ahh, the effects of aging. I found myself slipping into the dark spaces of my mind, wondering if my body would always hurt. If I’d never feel healthy again. Those words: always and never. They rarely prove true, so I quickly shook them off, reminding myself of what I’ve come through before.

Then after physical therapy, more stretching, more weight lifting, and a decision to start meds for the spine issues and I could feel myself lifting out of the weight. I slept well the past two nights and my increased movement is helping me all the way around. Oh, I am also taking 8-12 tablets of psyllium husks each day. Wow, what a miracle for my gut!

I do believe in facing the shadows. For years, I tried to suppress any negative thoughts. A regular Pollyanna, I was. Now I’ve learned to acknowledge them, tell my brain not to fear pain or anxiety, and to breathe. That pattern helps me come back to a light where I can see, make decisions, and more forward.

And lucky me- I am traveling to a warm place in the Caribbean soon. Writing, reading, eating, and walking…

I’ll be thanking Mother Nature for all things turquoise :)

I can tell when the anxiety creeps up, almost a physical sensation of strings dragging across my back and neck, tightness in my shoulders, and short breaths as I move about my day.

Luckily, I’ve spent the past few years working on this so I recognize it. Like this morning when my eyes popped open at 3:45 and all the breathing techniques I’ve mastered fail me. I tiptoe down the cold stairs, trying not to wake the dog who will then wake my husband. What house am I living in today?

We went out to dinner with friends last night, and three of of us agreed. When the world seems to be falling apart, it’s so hard not to feel empty and dark ourselves. There’s very little I can do to stop worrying about the upcoming election (unless Trump decides to just stop being Trump and the MAGA folks resign), or the impending climate disaster, wars in various countries, and the anger and violence that so many people carry and exhibit.

So I can only work on myself. Hiding might feel good in the moment, but it only makes things worse. I’ve begun limiting my news watching. For the first time in a long time, I am reading a novel.

My yoga twice a week helps my muscle strength, critical for bone density. Yoga settles me, too, even if I’ve had to give up my competitive nature to compete with everyone in the class. Often, the best I can do is breathe and stretch. I won’t be much use to anyone if I’m a puddle of nervous energy, rolled up in the fetal position on my couch.

What I’m reading and listening to these days:

Breath by James Nestor, again

Anchored by Deborah Dana (thanks Donna!)

What do do when you don’t like the way you feel

Emily McDowell, who reminds me I also need to stop analyzing everything.

ANOTHER WALK

My Christmas cactus lives alone in a corner.
Once a year, red luscious blooms
spread over spiked green leaves,
shouting, look at me, I am extraordinary.

In winter’s gray I walk, breath coming quickly,
my face wrapped in a scarlet wool scarf,
frozen fingers curled into mittens.
I run, determined to outpace the cold
and my sharp-edged thoughts:
Look at me,  I am flawed.

They say you should call yourself
by name,  hug yourself like a friend,
water yourself with kindness. 
A first wave of warmth envelopes me,
I breathe. Today that is enough.

No, I’m not dying–anymore than anyone else. But I have realized that my subconscious has been telling me a false story.

Somehow I had convinced myself that I was healthier than other people, that I would live a long life without issues, that I would not be affected by my mom’s dementia or my dad’s bad knees and heart. I remember watching my mom, who had spinal stenosis, get her back stretched by a physical therapist. She had knee replacement surgery. At one point she developed such serious back issues she used a wheel chair. Compression fracture, they said. I hated to see her in such pain.

I was going to be a different as I aged. I was going to stay young.

After all, I exercise- both weight-bearing and weight-lifting. I eat well, mostly vegetables, beans, and tofu. I’ve cut my alcohol use (probably not enough), and I try to fast from dinner at 6pm until the next morning (almost 12 hours). I do yoga twice a week, I journal, I meditate.

But yesterday I received the results of my bone density test, and I have a -2.6 score, which means I officially have osteoporosis of the spine. No symptoms yet. But suddenly my world turned upside down.

How could this be, I thought. This diagnose has brought me back to reality. No one escapes dying. And, as I move through my 70’s, I will be facing aging and health issues like most people do. My eyes are bad. My thumb arthritis keeps me from many yoga positions. My gut biome has been disturbed for years. And my gray hair is becoming dry and wiry. I have dark red splotches on my hands. I have not escaped.

But no one has. And I don’t need to be a baby about this. Others deal with this and far worse. Get over it.

Or at least– do all I can to stay healthy and enjoy life. We will all eventually die. I don’t want to spend the last years of life worrying about it.

Shrinking away from death is something unhealthy and abnormal which robs the second half of life of its purpose. Carl Jung