Grateful

During those times when life seems to throw one stumbling block after another at your feet, it can seem impossible to feel grateful.  Common wisdom tells us to find something in every day for which to feel thankful, even if it's a beautiful sunrise, or a good night's sleep.  Still, digging through all the internal negativity to find that one little shining gem--a sign that in perhaps an imperceptible way, abundance dwells within us.

This year presented me with one unexpected challenge after another.  First there was a mix up with Social Security that left me without my primary source of income for three months straight.  It took numerous trips to the SS office, letters, phone calls, juggling of finances, but I made it through that.  Then, just as it seemed everything was ironed out and going back to normal, I got the phone call about losing my job.

My job.  A source of income, for sure, that helped us make ends meet, but more than that, it became my sense of security.  It gave me a place to belong and an adopted family of sorts.  It gave me purpose and although it didn't require me to step outside my comfort zone often, it provided me with opportunities to grow.  For a while I felt devastated at the loss.  It wasn't so much a worry about income or financial stability, but about a feeling that I had somehow failed, despite how much of myself I poured into it for years.

There were months of chronic pain that I felt I'd never muddle through, months of self-doubt and yes, even pity.  There were setbacks in my relationships, disappointments in people that I put faith in.  Dealing with my illness, financial setbacks and the loss of my job, as I look back on the year, seem like enough to make a person just decide to quit on life.  I admit, there were days when I wanted to.

But at some point it occurred to me, not in black and white or in the form of a coherent single thought; more like a shift in thinking and attitude that eventually propelled me from my lazy stupor on the couch and into action.  I realized if I wanted my life to change, I had to believe in myself again.  I had to change.

So I stepped out of my comfort zone and became an exercise instructor.  Awkward and ill-at ease, I taught Silver Sneakers classes in front of crowded rooms full of senior citizens who were in better physical shape than me.  I took training for my career that I had avoided doing for years because my past job didn't require it.  Then, as I looked for jobs I found one that was too far away, but in every other aspect, perfect for me.  I took the training I needed to snag it, and here I am, three months in to a job I love.  I am so far outside the comfort zone of my status quo from a year ago.  Life keeps throwing me challenges and I keep surprising myself by meeting them head on.

I'm making plenty of mistakes, mind you, but I'm cutting myself some slack too, and letting my mistakes teach me.  Once when I was instructing a Silver Sneakers class I lost the beat of the music and fumbled around on a stage like an idiot.  Seniors were looking at me like I'd lost my mind, most of them stopped trying to keep up and just stared at me.  I realized, I needed to change the tune and move on to something else.  That moment is the metaphor for this entire year of my life.  I keep losing my step and having to reset the music, start over again.

This morning on my way to work, I pondered over all the the things I feel most grateful for.  My heart kicked up a few beats when I thought back over all the challenges I faced and overcame this year.  Then it dawned on me, Resilience.  That's what I'm most thankful for.  Not just my own resilience, but the resilience of mankind.  I've seen people go through some of the worst trials you can imagine, and I've seen them bounce right back.  It doesn't always happen over night, but human beings have an amazing ability to adapt and overcome.  I'm glad I have a little of that.

Even when you aren't living in a healthy body, the mind is an amazingly elastic super-powered engine, propelling us onward and upward and past the stumbling blocks that get thrown at our feet.

Whatever you're struggling with today, just remember you can make it through.  You can recover, you can grow and change.  You can and you will.

Because you are stronger than you know.

Learning

This past year presented me with a sharp learning curve.  At my age, I thought there was probably very little left for me to learn about or adapt to anymore.  People with life-limiting illnesses often see time in a different way, we tend to look more at the short-term and often forget that even though the average day-to-day grind can sometimes present us with more than our bodies can bear, there is still a big picture.  For a long time I gave up on the big picture.  I found a comfort zone and settled in, waiting out the rest of my days in what I hoped would consist of peaceful, boring, regular old existence. 

Back in 2013 when I first learned that my kidneys had failed, I remember having a conversation with my nephrologist about survival.  He is often hyper-focused on the physical aspects of surviving.  He watches my lab values and wants me to eat right, keep my blood pressure down, try not to gain too much weight or lose too much weight.  It seemed as though no one had any grasp of the idea that survival consists of so much more than merely staying alive.  Between 2013 and 2015 I lost a lot.  My health, a relationship, my parents, my financial security, my career and my home.  You might say my life got leveled as though a bomb was dropped into the middle of it, sending all the parts of me that I worked so hard to build flying into shards around me.  Physically, mentally, emotionally, there was little left of the person I thought I was.  I needed survival, and what I managed to eek out for myself over the last five years was just that.  I got by.  In some ways, I might have thrived, but as I let my world shrink, my friendships fade, my career goals slide, I also let myself slide in to complacency.  

If you think of it as a place, complacency is a location you don't want to stay in for too long.  It feels as though you're holding onto things, but in reality, your'e letting them go.  It's so easy to do--with a drama-free life, an easy job, Saturdays in pajamas in front of the TV, cancelled dinner plans, it all adds up after a while, and you find yourself in another place that is not at all easy or comfortable.

Regret.  I moved this year, from Complacency to Regret as many of the things I neglected tending to for so long bubbled back to the surface.  Some things were beyond my control, were not a result of my neglect, but all the same, stirred me out of my lazy stupor.   I spent the first three months of the year fighting a battle with the Social Security department over an error made in an old income tax return.  Just when that issue was settled and I thought life's wrinkles were about to smooth out again, I got a call from my boss telling me that I was losing my job.  My job, that gave me purpose, friendships, goals, comfort and a little bit of income.  It's funny how comfortable we can get with the rhythm of our days.  A few months ago I couldn't imagine my life without my last job.  I couldn't fathom my days without the people I felt so attached to, or the community I'd become a part of.  I had this illusion of belonging that suddenly got shattered, and quite frankly, found myself feeling fragmented as well.  

Who was I, if not the hard working community focused senior center director?  I faced harsh criticism and accusations that I had not tried hard enough at my job, but I know and many others know that I gave it my all.  Maybe that's what made losing it hurt more--the fact that I put so much of myself into it and still failed.  It was the only thing over the last five years that I poured any of myself into besides my children.  Suddenly I was face to face with a lifetime of failure and loss and I had to decide what to do with all of that.

I'm not going to lie, for a while it felt like the only sensible thing to do was give up.  Why keep trying when everything inevitably falls apart anyway?

But then I remembered, I need to survive and there's more to surviving than merely staying alive.

I dug into my savings--the savings I needed to live on for a while, and brushed up on my training.  I attended seminars and got certifications and learned new skills like teaching exercise classes.  I took huge steps outside my comfort zone and found myself, finally moving beyond Complacency and Regret.  It hasn't been easy.  Moving is always a strain, financially, mentally, physically, emotionally, it has been grueling.  These classes and certifications were costly and time-consuming, but I needed the opportunity to expand.   Letting go of my old job was heart-breaking and scary, but I needed to step away from it to gain new perspective on my life.  Living on a shoestring budget all year was extremely un-fun, but it showed me how resourceful I can be.  I had to reach out to friends and family because whether we like it or not, we need other people if we are going to get through tough times.  Everything together made for a very difficult year, but it also pushed me ahead, off the proverbial complacency couch and into a place called Growth.  

What does it mean to live well?  Is it a life free from adversity and pain?  Is it a life without risk without the need to step too far from your own back door?  

For a long while, I thought so.  Bud adversity and change forced upon me taught me new lessons about life and about myself.  It ain't over until it's over, and I still have life to live.  I learned that I possess a great degree of resilience, that despite my often fatalistic view of myself, I do have a big picture view of my life still.  I can still achieve things, I can still dream and learn and overcome.  Sometimes I just need a push in the right direction.

It seems ironic that for most of my life I've worked in a field that focuses on giving other people a better quality of life.  I brainstorm ways to help people with physical and mental limitations find purpose and joy in their everyday lives, but never stop to think about what gives me those things.  I think I'm lucky that the universe gave me this cosmic shove into discomfort and uncertainty.  If not for it, I would merely be a survivor.  

Living well, for me, is beginning to look more like change.  It is learning to accept risk and meet challenge head-on.  It is stepping past my own safety zone to learn new things and practice new skills.  It is becoming more assertive, learning to stand up for myself and advocate for myself better.  I'm not sure where Growth is taking me, but but I think just over the horizon, I might find I've moved past Survival, and on to Overcoming.  

Live Well, Even When You're Not

I work with elders who have dementia.  My job, in great measure, consists of finding ways big and small to improve their quality of life.  This morning I spent about an hour sitting outside in the beautiful courtyard with about seven residents, watching birds, listening to nature and once every few minutes or so, reading from a book of Robert Frost poems.  Nothing swells the heart so much as seeing the joy on an elder's face when she feels the warm morning sun on her shoulders or closes her eyes to bask in the refreshing wisp of a summer-morning breeze.  Often I find that the best moments of the day for them, and for me, come wrapped in serendipity.  For instance, when I read aloud the poem, "After Apple Picking" and the ladies gathered around me to talk about all the amazing treats they used to make with their fall apple harvests.  They take me back with them, to their kitchens or to their farms and together we make those pies, a reliving of happier times that conjures joy to the very moment and allows us all to hold it close once again.

Imperfection is humanity's kinship.  All of us, sitting out there in that morning sunlight shared an understanding of sorts.  We talked of aging and times long-gone, of how we change over the years in good ways and in bad.  Although they are blissfully unaware of many of the ways their bodies and brains have begun to fade, I am often acutely aware of my own mortality.  We are not well, any of us, and yet we sit smiling in a summer glow as if all were right with the world and with us.

I know quite a few people who struggle every day with their bodies--illnesses that don't come with banners or fund-raisers or icons.  We refuse to let the weaknesses of our bodies define us as human beings, not because we want to inspire anyone else, but because coming face to face with your own limitations, well, that kind of gives you a different perspective on life, and especially on those small moments in every day that make life grand.

For years people have told me I have important things to say, but I've never been quite sure what anyone expects to hear.  Lately though, I see a pattern in my own life and I find myself compelled to write about it.  In many ways I am not a well person, but if you met me for the first time today, you'd probably never guess that.  Some folks seem to wear their diseases like banners, I choose to carry mine in a cute bag and dress it up with coordinating shoes.  I suppose a lifetime of working with elders in an effort to make their everyday moments special and as filled with joy as possible has taught me a few things about appreciating life.

Here is where I think my message should land, and hopefully stick.  This blog, I hope, will come to help us all understand how to live life well, even when we are not.