Thursday, November 21, 2013

Liminal Space . . .

I've been thinking alot lately - always dangerous, that  ;-)  - and it's becoming clear to me that I'm in a transitional place in my life.  Again.  I'm not quite sure what this transition is yet, but it's something.  I've spent the last couple of months divesting both physically and spiritually and making room in my life for whatever is coming.  For something is coming - make no mistake.  I just have no earthly idea yet what it could possibly be.  And as I continue to strip away the trappings of my life that no longer serve me, I find myself in liminal space. I'm right there - at the threshold, and it's irritating as hell that I can't get through the door - hell, I can't get a fix on anything . . .

But I keep thinking and trying to figure it out, rather than just letting it unfold, which would, of course, be the better plan.  Somehow, though, I was behind the door when they were passing out patience . . .   At any rate, it will unfold if I would just let it.  Seriously, it's like picking a scab - you can't do that and expect something to heal.  Well, it's the same way here - you can't push the river, it's going to go along at its own pace and in its own time.  I really can't imagine that I am as impatient as I am, and yet, there it is.  But I keep thinking.  And lately, these are the things I have been thinking about . . .

I am Not 25 any Longer . . .

I am not old.  And I continue to look pretty much at least a decade younger than I am, but as I inch toward what, to me, is a crazy number in age, I have come to the crossroads of realizing that I have to conserve my energy better.  For someone who has always had more energy than the average bear (  ;-) ), discovering that I don't any longer, is a pretty tough lesson.  As mentioned, I look substantially younger than I am - and I'm in pretty good shape, and for the most part, I really do still have a really lot of energy - far more than pretty much anyone else I know no matter what age they are, truth be told.  But my last two weekends were crammed with stuff and I've been paying the price ever since, and I know, I swore up and down that I wasn't going to do that now that summer is gone, but stuff just came up and it seemed smart to do it all. (Really, A???)

Except for now when I've spent the last two weeks trying in vain to catch back up and feeling tired and having no energy and not sleeping enough.  I mean when I don't have the energy to play my pipes for a week and half, you know something's not right.

The kicker came on Tuesday.  I was working out with my trainer as I do nearly every Tuesday morning at 5:30 a.m. at the club.  I hadn't felt all that great for a few days - just generally tired and not sleeping well - a little stress, I guess - nothing serious, but my sleep patterns get disrupted with stress.  And since I didn't feel all that great, I hadn't been eating all that much - which is great on the scale, but apparently not so great otherwise . . . A half an hour in to my workout, I got the wobblies.  Wobbly = I have to sit down before I fall over.  My trainer's normally calm demeanor ratcheted up about five notches as he grabbed my arm, led me to a seat, and instructed one of the club employees to go downstairs and get me a Gatorade.  He took my blood pressure and checked my pulse.  I figured the BP was probably a little low - and he had been kicking my ass, but it was still only 110/62.  I don't know - doesn't your BP go up when you work out?  If so, then it was low.  Whatever.  I had to drink an entire bottle of red Gatorade.  I tried to get up and walk about halfway through.  That wasn't a good plan.  Back to the seat and the rest of the Gatorade.

That stuff is gross.  And it's full of sugar - which was apparently what I needed.  My trainer had to leave by then and he didn't want to leave me - but I assured him I'd be fine, and one of the other guys at the club kept an eye on me until I finished the Gatorade.  I was still a little wobbly, so I took the elevator back downstairs, but I wasn't wobbly bad enough to warrant anything further.  I got my coat on and got to the car and by the time I was halfway home, I was feeling much more like my usual self.

So, um, apparently I have to make sure I have protein the night before I go to the club.  And I need to sleep better.  And I need to not keep doing so much stuff all the time.  Stop laughing.  I'm doing the best I can, but stuff keeps creeping up on me, and it always seems like a good idea at the time . . . and it's not like I don't want to do all the stuff I do - I do.  But geez . . . well, you see my dilemma:  How do you begin to say no to things you've always said yes to in the past?  Always been happy to say yes to . . .  How do I get through the doorway to a more even keel?


When you Weigh Less, You get Cold more Easily . . .

At least I think that's what's going on.  I generally keep my house between 62-65 degrees F in the winter.  This year, I'm physically much smaller than I have been in well over a decade.  Being an ovo-pescetarian has really made a difference for me in the size department.  Yay!  But this means that I don't have as much padding as I used to . . .  I suppose it could also be that now that I'm officially menopausal, I'm not as warm as I used to be (because my own "personal summers" are few and far between now).  I don't know - that's just a guess - but in any case, I find myself having to use both bed quilts when I first fall asleep, or sitting in my sunroom wrapped up in a shawl and wearing my blue penguin fleecy pants a whole lot more often than I think I should be having to.  Linda the Chicken Lady thinks I should have my thyroid checked, but having dropped my dosage once before (many years ago) when I got smaller, it was a complete disaster - so I'm thinking that's not what's going on here.

One of my friends said, "old people get cold more easily."  Other than wanting to give him a swift crack, it's possible that he might have a point, but really, I think it's just another foible of a middle-aged body and my inability thus far to get myself on a more even physical keel.  Kinda like when I drink wine now, my face gets much redder than it ever used to.  I read recently that that's a sign of alcohol sensitivity, which makes sense because I never had all these weird food sensitivities when I was a kid.  That alcohol might be added to that list seems quite plausible.

Anyway - I rinsed the main furnace filter and will change the filter on the other furnace tonight, and I'm seriously considering taking the hit in my pocketbook to have the heat up a little higher in the house this winter.  The plants will like it, that's for sure.


You Never Stop Missing Your Mom . . .

My mom has been gone now for nearly a decade, and just this week I miss her so much that it makes my heart hurt.  So many things I should have asked her.  So many things I WANT to ask her.  So many times I still want to be comforted by her (those have always been pretty much along the lines of "Mom, I did a really stupid thing and now my life is over . . . " I was always the more dramatic one.)  She knew everything - she knew where to find anything you could possibly want - and she always knew what to say or do in any given situation.  She really did.  And when I'm in a place of not knowing or of transition, like I am now, is when I miss her and her counsel the most.  She would know what to do about being tired, she would know what to do about whatever my latest stupid move happened to be (and OMG I have made a ton of them over my lifetime thus far - oftentimes one more stupid than the next  :-D), she would know all the stuff that I somehow managed to not learn before she left me.

Why didn't I pay better attention?  Why didn't I ask more questions?  Funny, that one, because, if you could ask her, she would tell you that I asked WAY more than my share - one of those "you're just like your father" moments - apparently he always needed the details, too.  She never asked as many questions as I always have - and she never sweated the small stuff.  And as much as I have striven to live my live with joy and purpose after her example, I feel lately like I never seem to quite get to the place where she comfortably lived her life.  Or I get there - for about a half an hour - and then it all goes pear-shaped.

Anyway . . .

Like I said, I've been thinking lately - and I think the holidays affect me more than I ever realized - or perhaps they just affect me more now than they used to.  I'm hiding out for Thanksgiving this year.  I have one thing planned with one of my good friends, but that's it.  My extended family is scattered for the holiday and I am very much looking forward to just regrouping/recouping on my own.  I'm going to downsize Christmas again this year (starting this weekend while I'm waiting for the phone guy to show up and figure out how come I all of a sudden don't have any dial tone or Internet) - and I don't think I'm going to put up the big tree.  Somehow it just seems overwhelming . . . I think I'll just get Mom's little tree out - the one she switched to after she gave up all her Christmas stuff - it's already lit and decorated.  You just have to take it out, fluff it up a little, and plug it in.  That sounds pretty perfect to me this year.

And so it goes - I am at the corner of walk and don't walk.  I'm not sure which way to turn, so I guess I'm going to have to be patient for awhile longer.

Please wish me luck.

Here's The River . . .






4 comments:

Michelle said...

Some serious stuff here, friend. I hope you see the way forward soon!

A :-) said...

All will be well. Sometimes you just have to soul search :-)

Kristyn McCain said...

It must be going around. Myself and many people I know feel like a transition in their lives is happening. Here's to hoping we all find our way.

A :-) said...

Kristyn - yes, let's set the intention that will be made clear soon :-)