agingwrinklesandwondersdot.com

A kind gesture can reach a wound that only compassion can heal.” – Steve Maraboli

a wrinkle

Yesterday I was taking a nickel and dime walk, which is what I call a short walk in between  events on my schedule. i.e. “ I have 10 minutes before my next commitment so I’m going to walk for 10 minutes.” I have been doing the nickel and dime walks more often recently as I am recovering from a hysterectomy. I was walking briskly and thinking that there is really little hope of good news while Trump is president. And then the sidewalk rose up to meet me, and bam my face was in contact with the concrete. My glasses flew off and I thought “ This is what a face plant feels like”.  Too late, I saw the uneven sidewalk that had tripped me up. I reached up to touch my face as big drops of blood fell on my hand.  I realized my face was cut and bleeding, but I didn’t know where the injury was. I struggled up to my feet and the bleeding was pretty heavy . Quick check, I wasn’t knocked out, not dizzy when I stood up and needed to assess what my face looked like. Meanwhile the bleeding continued and my hand was not absorbing the flow. So, of course I cried! I berated myself for not paying enough attention to the condition of the sidewalk and not being able to stop my fall. Just for fun, I also had  lots of fear about how I would heal. After all, I’m old and falling apart and my fall proved that. I started to walk…

a wonder

So where was I ? What was the closest place to get help? I remembered there was a health club around the corner and headed that way. I walked in and up to the front desk and said” “I need help. Can you help me?” I’m sure that I presented as an older lady who was bleeding  all over the place. Which of course was exactly what I was. I was given a towel to use and their first aid kit was pulled out.  And then I heard, “I’m a nurse. I can help.” and she did . She sat me down and cleaned up my face to see what was bleeding and checked me over for other injuries. She put pressure on the source of the bleeding and confirmed it was not a deep cut on the bridge of my nose. She was very comforting to me and  took me to the bathroom and helped me wash off the blood on my hands.. She offered to drive me to Urgent care,  but I said I was ok to drive. She gave me a hug and told me her name was Paige, and I introduced myself too. After all, it was important that we learn each others names as we had shared this raw adventure.  I went back to my car and drove to Urgent care for a closer  check up.  I was full of gratitude and understood that the good news is there are caring people. I want to be one of them, part of the caring and hope. This is true in spite of Trump’s evil control. I still get to decide how I will act. This part is up to me. Thank you Paige.

A Wrinkle and a Wonder a week #19

The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places.” — Ernest Hemingway, “A Farewell to Arms”

 A wrinkle 

So I’ve found myself feeling like Humpty Dumpty lately with broken pieces that I can’t put together again. A hysterectomy has removed some parts of me like my uterus, my ovaries, my fallopian tubes, etc..(in case I’ve forgotten something.) I don’t have any kings men or kings horses to put me back together again. Besides the pieces that are gone need to stay gone so cancer does not try  to put them back together again. When my body hurts the pain can consume me. I am only the pain I feel. The reality is my body is older and heals more slowly and I get angry at this reality. This anger is not productive energy that gets converted to healing energy, so it just diverts the energy into mental and emotional pain- a vicious cycle. Like the kid in the back seat I’m asking are we there yet and how much longer?  When will I feel better.? Now would be nice. I am so grateful that pathology and prognosis are all good. All’s well that ends well right? Not so fast! I feel more vulnerable living in my aging body. The odds are high that I will experience more illness and injuries the older I get. My response and reaction times are slower and I can’t pretend otherwise or I’ll increase my risk. I worry about facing the perfect storm of injury or illness, loss of mobility and being wrapped in isolation. I tell myself to deal with my anxiety by insuring that I am taking care of myself, planning for and making adaptive changes  in my environment and building a good social support system. On good days things seem to be working, but of course life is not pulling punches. Sometimes it just hurts.

a wonder

I amuse myself by imagining I’m like the Michelin man, protected by rolls of tires padding my body. Just try and get me! Reality is I have more in common with Wily E. Coyote who keeps getting clobbered, but I don’t have an  animator to “fix” my critical injuries.  Laughter is a great healer, so I’d rather my stomach hurt because I laughed too hard than because a medication I need to take upsets my stomach. I need sleep, exercise, mental and physical, good food and lots of love. If I hit my thumb with a hammer it hurts and I may let a few expletives fly to express myself and release my anger. There is nothing like a few very good swear words to release tension. My favorite refrigerator magnet says: “Some days the supply of available swear words is insufficient to meet the demands.” If I get poked at enough I may crawl inside my shell to rest and heal and this may be the best decision I can make. I remember as a child how  people wrote on casts to lighten the drudge of healing. Wish it were that easy! I stock up on books, crosswords and movies to distract myself from time that crawls. No matter how well I deal with illness or injury- sometimes it just hurts.

A Wrinkle and a Wonder a Week #18

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Getting to yes or getting to no on the decision highway is full of a lot of detours, road construction and a few car crashes. GPS doesn’t help me at all. “You have arrived at your decision” would be something I’d Iove to hear from Siri, anything  to take the responsibility for my decisions off of my shoulders. Do I want mango flavored yogurt,  coffee flavored or lemon…? I simply have more decisions to make because I have more choices.  When I  was younger, there were like 5 choices of toothpaste. Now advertising has created more “needs” for everyone: whiter teeth, healthier gums,  treating sensitive teeth and ending dry mouth etc…. My wrinkled skin has so many different products to choose from that I get more wrinkles worrying about if I have chosen the “right” product. Marketers have a way of selling their products that makes me and other consumers feel compelled to purchase them. These kinds of decisions are actually pretty trivial compared to important life decisions I’ve made or still need to make, like who to marry, whether to have a child, where to live, planning for my death, when to divorce, or whether to sign on this or that line….  As I’ve gotten older, I think I know better about when and even if I need to make a decision. I  also know that all decisions have consequences, and some consequences  I face now can be very serious, or even life and death. I can still make a lot of bad decisions and choices in the years I have left. It’s those damned if you do and damned if you don’t  decisions that can tie me up in knots. I may believe I know myself better and trust myself more, but throw some anxiety in the mix and  I get more wrinkles just thinking about it. 

a wonder

I  make better decisions when I can troubleshoot what to do if it turns out to be a poor choice. Considering the “What if’s” helps me assess risk. I’m still working on believing I have the right to change my mind.  Yes I can!  A decision or choice may be a good one for a particular time, but things always change and I will have to make different decisions  as circumstances change.  I’m trying to not deny the changes that aging has brought and will bring, and to accept the reality of my changing circumstances.  I am ok with others making a decision for me, i.e.where to go for coffee, if it really doesn’t matter to me. My  coffee order is my choice and it’s one I take seriously. When I do care or have a preference, I do myself and others the respect of speaking up for myself. I am responsible for planning for changing needs, as life narrows my choices.    I have taken care of confirming my final wishes and my representatives to act for me. My most precious resource is my time. How do I want to spend my time? These kinds of decisions determine my quality of life. I’ll spend 2 hours at the movies, but not 2 hours at a boring seminar on investing. I minimize the time I spend with people I don’t like, choosing not to ruled  my “shoulds”. I claim my right to make my own decisions, but not to make yours. It’s still really hard to keep my mouth shut when I think a family member, my son particularly, or friends have made a poor decision. My relationships are formed and bettered by my decisions, big and little, to respect mine and others choices. It’s much better to have to choose between alternatives that are all good. Which cake I want is not a very difficult choice. These are the kind of decisions I love so I’m hoping for lots more of these. I decided many years that “ Dawn” is the only dish detergent I ever buy or use. That’s one down, and many more decisions to make.

a Wrinkle

I think we can tell a lot about a person by how they choose  to decorate their living spaces. Before he fell asleep, Donald Trump vomited all over the Oval Office with an obscene amount of gaudy fake gold. What does that tell us about  him? I don’t think I have to spell it out to you, because we all know that a golden toilet is still just a toilet.  I don’t really know what my decorating style is, let’s just say it’s eclectic. Maybe that’s a fancy way of saying I don’t have any style and nothing I have “ goes together”. I can’t afford high end furniture and decor, but if I could I’m not even sure what I would buy. When I get disenchanted with my living spaces I know I need to clean house before I rush out to buy something.  When dirt and clutter become my default decorating style, I feel irritated, I don’t feel comfortable.  “It’s only me.”, I tell myself, so my home is not sparkling clean nor am I constantly watching HGTV. My modus operandi is I see something I like at the thrift store and I buy it, with the intent of finding a place for it. It would be better if I had a space I wanted to fill and then shopped, but  I don’t operate  that way. I think it’s the shopping I most enjoy! I’m not great at saving and waiting so I end up with some decor that is not quite what I wanted, because I want something right now and I don’t have enough money saved. “Not quite right” is not very satisfying .  I’m older so I ask myself “If not now, when?”.  It’s dangerous for me when I get sick of what’s on my walls, because “when” becomes “now” in a heartbeat.

a Wonder

The doggies and I walked past a small parked car the other morning that made me giggle. The only way to set the scene is to tell you it looked like HGTV had bombed it with an interior makeover.  Matchy, matchy, but I loved it. Pink fuzzy steering wheel, pink fuzzy shifter, pink fuzzy headrests, and seat covers that were ( you guessed it) pink and white striped! I thought “Why Not?”, we could all use an upgrade in our environments that might lift our spirits in the Tasteless Trump shadow.  Shiny and new is not always classy. I think sleek new high end cars lack personality, they scream money, money, but have no soul. Personally I’m in the recycle, reuse, make-do camp. My late husband and my son told me they were worried, if they sat too long, I’d try to embellish or redo them! Even though I like to put my personal touch on things and embellish whenever, whoever and however I can, I’m not into clutter. Sometimes I finish a craft project and donate it right back to a thrift store. It’s the process!  The problem I run into is I need to have craft supplies to use to work on my projects, and they do cost money. Through the years I’ve accumulated quite a craft supply closet which I am constantly organizing. I’ve slowed down the amount and time I spend on my crafting and makeovers. Sometimes I’m more inclined to let spaces,  simply be spaces, and I see it as not empty, but full of space! This is a very roundabout way of saying I’m more interested in my interior soul space which really doesn’t take up any physical space. I don’t need to embellish my spirit, I just need a serene space to connect with it. I’m proud of many of my re-creations and thrift purchases because they allow me to express myself. They are my creations. Unlike the fuzzy pink mobile, my car is decorated in different stylish shades of mud and dirt. I think a little mud says I’m into adventure, don’t you?

Grief: a cause of deep sadness, Grieve, Breathe, Begin Again

My friend, Jeanne passed away this week. Though small in stature, she was a giant in presence.  I will miss her hugs and easy laugh.  I learned so much from her.  She gifted the world for 90 years and that was not long enough. I am grieving, but very grateful she was in my life.   

a Wrinkle

Death and loss is not a topic you or I like to think about. As if not talking about it means  it will magically not happen to us. A commercial for life insurance talks about death this way “ Let’s  assume that some day you won’t be watching TV anymore. “ —talk about  denial! I believe that aging is really a string of losses. My friends and family members pass away, my body looses its strength and mobility, and the number of years I have left are dwindling. I don’t know current slang, but I must say I love the word “ dwindling”: to become steadily less.  My life is dwindling is exactly right. I grieve many different kinds of losses. Grief is grief,  though it differs in intensity, duration, and lasting effects depending on the loss. I grieved the death of Roger, my late husband, while he was alive and suffering with the slow death of dementia, and after he died, and every day since then, including today. I grieved when my son left home and when I didn’t get the job I really wanted. It’s like my life is a Jenga tower and the older I get,  the more pieces are removed and the more likely it will all fall down. I’ve been shaped by the chisel of grief and transformed by grief, past tense and present tense. I hurt and I cry and I rage and I deny, but still losses keep on coming.

a Wonder

Despite all of the times that I thought I couldn’t  get thru “this” pain,  I’m still here. I’ve not been able to build a safe room against grief. Do I get better at grieving the more I experience it?  I think I’ve gotten better at acceptance. I don’t wrap myself in bubble wrap and deny that life has pain for myself and everyone.  No exceptions!  I can’t deny that life also brings joy and love. Endings and beginnings have cycled through my life. I can love another pet after I have lost a beloved pet. I’m not replacing one for the other because I have enough love to give and accept from another pet. In the middle of my grief at losing a furry member of my family, I’m sure I will never want to feel that  pain again, but I see another special dog or cat and know I’ve got to risk loving again. The joy outweighs the pain of loss. The biggest risk I’ve ever taken is to become a mother. Talk about signing up for the biggest risk of all! Loving so intensely brings immeasurable joy, but also immeasurable loss and pain. If I focus on all the losses I have had or will have I only feel grief, but that’s only half of life’s equation. I can also choose to focus on the good and joys in life. Gratitude is one of the tools I use to keep my focus on the good and the grace in life. My gratitude muscle has gotten stronger as I’ve gotten older. Grief is better when it is shared with friends, so I prioritize my friendships. I try to live keeping in mind the  reality that I will die. I make this reality the catalyst to keep my relationships healthy and to tell people I love them as often as I can. I don’t want to have unfinished business weighing on me. 

A Wrinkle and a Wonder a Week #14

a Wrinkle

I was sitting here for awhile staring at the blinking cursor on my screen.  The blinking was harassing me and I capitulated, not because I have something to say, but because I had to make it stop. Now what? I guess I should figure out if I have anything to say and if there is anyone who will listen. At times I think, “I’m old, people don’t see me and who cares what I say.” What if I am invisible and irrelevant?  I fear I may be both. I don’t want to be the speaker at the “ bully pulpit.”,nor do I want to be submissive with my silence.  Congress has not called me in yet, but I’m waiting. I have never felt so strongly that I have something to say in all the spheres in my life: personally, socially, and politically. At the same time I know how my anger and frustration can lead to ranting. Just ask family members and friends! Ranting is not very effective,  I’m saying a lot of words, but my body language and tone of voice can distract from my message. I’ll get to rant level very quickly, so I try to slow myself down and pause before I speak, but if the red flag of Trump is waved in my face I charge  like a bull.  I swing from mute ( it doesn’t matter what I say,  to rage  (everything I say must be heard). My judgement regarding how, when and what to say is poor, but  not nearly as poor as many in the current administration. How I express myself is up to me and there are times when I lose my patience and border on the grouchy old lady who forgets “You can catch more flies with honey.” Assertive or aggressive? Remember when assertiveness training was the buzz word of day? I think I need some more  assertiveness training. I have  feelings and  words inside of me that I need to modulate before I share.  Ricocheting from emotion to emotion, I’m playing verbal pinball trying to keep the ball in play, but I always tilt or the ball quietly rolls down and out. 

a Wonder

The wonder is how I have gotten to my age without alienating everyone in the world or imploding!  Ironically, I think fewer situations get my ire up and I’m actually more mellow about things I used to think were worth getting upset about, but what does provoke me, positive or negative,  fosters more intense feelings. I love fiercely and hate fiercely, but I focus on fewer things and my attention is not scattershot and I’m still “Mama Bear” for those I love and the causes I support. The intensity of my feelings shocks me at times. When  I “crash out” it’s much better if I have people I love pull me back to earth. When I share my feelings I can get perspective and validation or get told to shut up and calm down, both are feedback I need. When I write, there’s a much better chance my words will be selected carefully,  but without the context of my tone of voice, facial expressions and body language I have to work extra hard to get my one dimensional words to send my message. Texting can be risky when the potential for mis-understanding mi words and context increases communication failures. If it’s very important to me its worth making a phone or video call. There are a few people I can talk to for hours and others short and sweet is much better. There are some people I don’t want to talk to and I give myself permission to  be in “silent” mode with them. Of course,  you better listen to what I say, because you will miss something important if you don’t. For sure!

A Wrinkle and a Wonder a Week #14

a Wrinkle

I was sitting here for awhile staring at the blinking cursor on my screen.  The blinking was harassing me and I capitulated, not because I have something to say, but because I had to make it stop. Now what? I guess I should figure out if I have anything to say and if there is anyone who will listen. At times I think, “I’m old, people don’t see me and who cares what I say.” What if I am invisible and irrelevant?  I fear I may be both. I don’t want to be the speaker at the “ bully pulpit.”,nor do I want to be submissive with my silence.  Congress has not called me in yet, but I’m waiting. I have never felt so strongly that I have something to say in all the spheres in my life: personally, socially, and politically. At the same time I know how my anger and frustration can lead to ranting. Just ask family members and friends! Ranting is not very effective,  I’m saying a lot of words, but my body language and tone of voice can distract from my message. I’ll get to rant level very quickly, so I try to slow myself down and pause before I speak, but if the red flag of Trump is waved in my face I charge  like a bull.  I swing from mute ( it doesn’t matter what I say,  to rage  (everything I say must be heard). My judgement regarding how, when and what to say is poor, but  not nearly as poor as many in the current administration. How I express myself is up to me and there are times when I lose my patience and border on the grouchy old lady who forgets “You can catch more flies with honey.” Assertive or aggressive? Remember when assertiveness training was the buzz word of day? I think I need some more  assertiveness training. I have  feelings and  words inside of me that I need to modulate before I share.  Ricocheting from emotion to emotion, I’m playing verbal pinball trying to keep the ball in play, but I always tilt or the ball quietly rolls down and out. 

a Wonder

The wonder is how I have gotten to my age without alienating everyone in the world or imploding!  Ironically, I think fewer situations get my ire up and I’m actually more mellow about things I used to think were worth getting upset about, but what does provoke me, positive or negative,  fosters more intense feelings. I love fiercely and hate fiercely, but I focus on fewer things and my attention is not scattershot and I’m still “Mama Bear” for those I love and the causes I support. The intensity of my feelings shocks me at times. When  I “crash out” it’s much better if I have people I love pull me back to earth. When I share my feelings I can get perspective and validation or get told to shut up and calm down, both are feedback I need. When I write, there’s a much better chance my words will be selected carefully,  but without the context of my tone of voice, facial expressions and body language I have to work extra hard to get my one dimensional words to send my message. Texting can be risky when the potential for mis-understanding mi words and context increases communication failures. If it’s very important to me its worth making a phone or video call. There are a few people I can talk to for hours and others short and sweet is much better. There are some people I don’t want to talk to and I give myself permission to  be in “silent” mode with them. Of course,  you better listen to what I say, because you will miss something important if you don’t. For sure!

A Wrinkle and a Wonder a Week #13

a wrinkle

“If it wasn’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.”

If I am given the opportunity to gamble I will. Not the big stakes like craps or poker,  but I can play slots and sit in front of machines for hours trying to win my 20 bucks back.  I move on and the next person on that machine gets the jackpot! I don’t consider myself lucky and I can resent other people’s good “luck”.  As I get older, I  take stock of my life and sometimes I don’t see that  Lady Luck  has smiled on me. My default is believing when others win I lose. There is only so much luck and good outcomes available and I don’t have a seat at the table. Not a very flattering tell on myself. I too frequently operate from self-pity and resentment, and I suspect I may also have some projection going on! My Mom often said, “ Where there’s a will there’s a way.”, but I know that’s not always true when what we call “dumb luck” operates. When something is attributed to dumb luck, it means that “it happened completely by chance without being expected, planned, or deserved.” I get hung up on the “completely by chance” and “deserved” aspect.  I know I deserve it!  No matter how hard I work and plan, dumb luck can’t be ruled out. The randomness of life can not be willed away. This scares me and angers me. Dumb luck?  

a wonder 

Can I create my own luck? As Seneca said “ Luck is a matter of preparation.” This is true in a small way because if I don’t play and participate in the game, then I will not win the game.. How can I be in the right place at the right time if I never leave my house? The thing about luck though is it is all about by chance and randomness and that is not music to my control freak ears! Sometimes on my morning runs I would entertain myself with the fantasy that I won a million dollars in the lottery and how I would spend it. Nice fantasy,  but I didn’t quit my job.  So in most ways I am powerless over making my own luck.  if this is true, and I believe it is,  I really have only 2 choices: accept it or continue to  fight a reality I can not change. The later  guarantees failure, pain and resentment. Tallying others good luck is an exercise in resentment. I also remind myself that not getting  what I want can sometimes  be a very lucky thing if it was not good for me in the long run.  Luck  can be  hard to understand . Ironically telling someone to “ Break a leg” means you are actually wishing them good luck. I’ll just say “ Good luck.”

The forecast for tonight- dark. George Carlin

A Wrinkle and a Wonder a Week #12

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Extreme weather is the norm.  “Baby it’s cold (Windchill  -40)  outside.”  or “You could fry an egg on the blacktop.” And surprise! Let’s get rid of staff and agencies that help to predict the weather and issue weather warnings, because they are a “waste” of money. Would someone please explain to Trump what global warming means? Never mind, he’s low I.Q..  My anxiety magnet, you know the anxiety that can hover around the edges of life, is activated by bad weather.  I’m no longer that little girl who hopes for snow days so I can stay home from school and look forward to building snow forts and snowmen. When it was too hot, I stayed in the shade or splashed in water. I don’t have to worry about digging out to go to work anymore, but cabin fever is a real condition. It’s the difference  between being warm and cozy, and just being stuck inside. I don’t like being stuck anywhere. What if I need help or I can’t get out or no one can get to me? I live alone and I feel more vulnerable the older I get. The “what ifs’ increase exponentially. What if my air conditioner breaks down and I can’t afford to get a new one? What if high winds, temperatures and drought converge to cause raging urban fires. What if I slip on the ice and am injured? I know I can’t control the weather, but I don’t want the weather to control me. It’s a battle I can’t win. Yes, I have hired someone to shovel my driveway and mow my yard, and he’s great, but I have to depend on someone else. In short, bad weather can create a crisis and I don’t need more crisis as I navigate this stage of my life. And guess what? I have to accept the weather, good and bad.  I can’t change it. When I  resist and rage at the weather,  I am the only one who suffers. My attitude has got to change, and I struggle with that because fear can cement my bad attitude.

a wonder

I live in beautiful Colorado with almost 300 days of sunshine a year. This is part of the reason I live here, a geographic “cure”.  Even with the relatively mild weather, at least compared to Iowa, we still have snow, high winds, floods and dangerous heat, and on top of that we have high wildfire danger. I can and do  take steps to plan for and mitigate threats caused by extreme weather.  At the same time I have worked on creating a backyard haven where I can enjoy the good weather comfortably and safely. The table, chairs and umbrellas on my deck and patio protect me from the hot sun. My landscaping is always a work in progress. I work with the weather and climate and xeriscape my yard so I don’t need to water much at all.  I think I do what I can do, but I still struggle with feeling vulnerable. It’s a fact that the the weather is getting worse because of climate change, so sticking my head in the sand is not helpful. I search for a balance between a pragmatic response to climate change and a “The sky is is falling.” approach, but I do  believe we are closer to a climate catastrophe. I always come back to how important having a support system and being a member of a community is pivotal to my mental health and personal safety. I wrote last week about the value of good neighbors. I can ask for help and support. Whatever fears I have, including those about bad weather, can be shared and validated. I don’t need to hide my vulnerabilities, and we can support each other with the  practicalities of dealing with bad weather. If you see me singing and dancing in the rain or ambushing my neighbors with snowballs from my  snow fort, I could be making friends with the weather. Or a little crazy!