Lessons learned the hard way

I took this picture standing in the brush that stretched along the beach. What do you suppose was running through my head? "Wow, what an amazing view, I'm so lucky to be here soaking in this moment!" Mmmm...nope. Try more like "Hmmm, wonder how far off sunset is. We told the manager at the motel we'd be checking in soon, I bet we're still 30 minutes out, we've got to get on the road. I think there's a beach in Westport someone was raving about on that discussion board, I should go catch a sunset photo from there, it might be even better than this one!"

So we hopped in the car and set off for Westport. Me sitting in the passenger seat, agitated that we weren't there already, wondering what the other beach would look like, hoping the proprietors of the motel wouldn't be annoyed if we were a few minutes off schedule. Chris quietly trying to drive down the country road without hitting any stray cows. Oh yeah, and that tiny voice in the back of my head that was throwing a fit because we left the beach and were headed away from the sunset. It wanted to stay there, set up the tripod, and patiently wait for the sun to drop even with the horizon so it could capture the perfect sunset shot. But I had plans damn it, a travel checklist to adhere to, and a rumored great beach to get to before the sun set!

When we saw the clouds moving in over the mountains start to glow pink I knew in the pit of my stomach I'd made the wrong decision. I could feel that "oh you stupid idiot!" panic start to set in as my eyes scanned the roadside looking for any clue as to how far we had to go to reach Westport. 5 kilometers later we passed a little town called Carters Beach and a side road that I could see might have led out to the beach, but I didn't want to ask Chris to stop the car and turn around and risk that I might have been wrong. Glancing in the rear view mirror was painful, the sun was setting faster than I thought it would, clouds aflame in hot pink, deep orange drifting across the sky, it was stunning, and I kicked myself again. 10 kilometers more and we were in Westport. But wait, where was the beach? Down the center of town Chris drove, no beach in sight. We paused long enough to get our bearings and then headed in the direction of the water, hoping we'd hit the beach in time.

We never did find the "spectacular beach" of Westport. The road ended at a lighthouse type building with writing on the road reminding people to not stop and park their cars there. But there were 6-7 cars lining the road, stopped to watch the sunset. I grabbed the camera and took a picture in hopes of catching the hot pink color in the clouds while my eyes welled up with tears. To top it all off, the car decided it didn't want to start again, and we spent several minutes practically holding our breath, begging it to start. All I could think of is calling AA sitting in our rental car, stopped in a "no stopping" area at the tip of a tiny roadway stuck out in the water! Thankfully, it started after we gave it a few minutes, apparently it doesn't like to start right after you shut it off, so we had several "Please start, oh please, please, please start!" moments before we turned the thing back in.

Why did I leave that other beach? I have over a dozen photographs even better than the one I posted above (like my new header for example!), the rocks, the water, the foliage, the way it faced the setting sun, it was PERFECT. And I hopped in the car and sped away from it. Why? Because I wasn't in the moment. I was consumed with all the other things going on in my head, the perceived expectations of others waiting on me, the vague promise of a better beach elsewhere. Why didn't I stop when my gut told me to? Why didn't I ask Chris to turn around and go back? It would have been so easy, I'd have gotten the shot! Why? Because I felt like I had made a decision and so I needed to follow it through and stick with it.

I have a secret. Deep down within me I am an incredibly random and spontaneous person! I delight over simple things like the smoothness of a rock deposited on the beach by the ocean, the salty crispiness of perfectly done shoestring fries, the way a loved one's eyes twinkle when they laugh, packing an overnight bag and renting a hotel room in a town 2 hours away spur of the moment, just to enjoy a different bed, no internet, and a night with nothing else to do but get lost in Chris' arms. But there is something that keeps that person inside me tied up, pushed down, and gasping for air. Sometimes she rarely gets to see the light of day. I catch glimpses of her from time to time but for the most part the other "me" rules. The practical me. The one that tries to juggle it all, that makes plans, lists, appointments. The one that obsesses over the most minute details, who paces when we don't leave the house on time, that panics if it looks like we might be late for an appointment. The one that struggles with panic attacks when things seem to be spinning out of her control, the one who is so caught up in the past and the future that she fails to cherish the present.

I don't know how to let the me imprisoned inside me out in the same way I don't know how to make the other me CHILL OUT. But I know I've got to figure it all out because days are passing me by that I'm not living because I'm too busy caught up in the struggle between the two. And I'm tired of learning painful lessons the hard way because she makes me drown out the real me, the one that goes with her intuition, the one that whispers to me the right thing even as I turn away from her.

I learned a painful lesson that sunset day. It's never too late to turn around! We cannot let our fears of admitting we are wrong rule our lives so much that we "stay the course" all the while knowing within us we shouldn't. So the next time I'm in that car headed the wrong way I hope I have the guts to stop the car and turn around. Sometimes we drive away in search of the very thing that was there in front of us, we're just too blind to see it.

I'm 26 for a moment...

Life is such an odd thing. The older I get the more I realise that time passes so fast and yet we still will it to go faster. When I was 9, my 10th birthday couldn't come fast enough because then I'd finally be allowed to get my ears pierced. Then I couldn't wait to be 13 because I'd be a "teen" then! I counted down the days until my 16th birthday, convinced that the closer I got to adulthood the better life would be, when that didn't materialise at 16 I figured by 18 I'd be all set for college and getting out of my parents house. At 18 that didn't happen as planned and I was ready to be 21 because I thought by then I'd have my path in life all sorted out!

On my 21st birthday I decided life was hell and I really wanted to go to sleep and never wake up, or at least fast forward through my life a good bit and come out once things sorted themselves out because surely at 23 things would be better! At 23 I forced myself to leave my parent's house to go visit family friends in Florida and stayed there for almost 6 months, trying desperately to get something moving in my life because I thought for sure I was doomed to be forever stuck there, then ended up actually going back there to live and thought I'd really fucked up then. I think 23 was one of the longest years of my life, but also the one I changed the most in, although 24 comes in a close second.

By my 25th birthday I was engaged, moved to a foreign country, and married! Talk about time moving fast! I thought my 25th year would find me in the US, starting college. You see, I have this anxiety over college. I didn't get to go when I was 18, and in hindsight that isn't such a bad thing because who I am now is quite far from who I was then, and at least I didn't take up 4 years getting a degree I'd never use. But it was okay, I figured I could still squeeze in a degree before I was 30, not too bad. Things never quite go to plan though, and now halfway through 26 I'm still in NZ, planning our next step in life. By the time I start school I'll be 27, so that degree won't come until I'm in my 30's and that does not make me very happy. I feel like suddenly life is rushing by at a breakneck speed and if I blink I'm going to miss the chance to do what I want to do. So I plan, fret, worry, obsess, plan some more, pace and I think I've about driven myself crazy. I feel like I'm constantly trying to play catch up with life.

Why do we do this? I know I'm not the only one to have this problem. When we're young we're in such a hurry to grow up that we spend our time pushing forward, trying not to think about how young we are, constantly fighting to be seen as older, wiser, more mature, anything to not be the kids we are. Then we find ourselves in our mid 20's and people are telling us we've got to get our career going, find a great person to "settle down" with, we get the grandkids question, and it seems as if everyone around us is pitching in to keep pushing us forward, always looking for the next thing, the next item on the checklist. Spouse? Check! 2.5 kids? Check! 9-5 office job? Check! Career path in place? Check! House and the debt that comes with it? Check! 2 cars? Check!

On and on we go, speeding through the list, becoming the people that society has convinced us we want to be until we hit our 40's and then all the sudden we dig our heels in and try to bring the ride to a screeching halt! How the fuck did we get close to half a century old? Where did our life go? We had dreams! Things we wanted to do, places we wanted to go, and now what of them? We have a house to pay off, kids in high school that we've gotta put through college, we barely recognise ourselves in the mirror, and that 9-5 job? We've always secretly hated it. Is it any wonder why so many people go through a "mid-life crisis" and try to scramble back and do all the things that they shoulda/coulda/wanted to do when they were in their 20's but they were too consumed with getting to the next goalpost to take the time to do it?

I've often wondered if the US is the only place that has the "mid-life crisis" problem, because your 20's often go a bit different in more British countries. Over here it's not uncommon to find people in their late 20's or early 30's in school still. Taking 6 months or a year off to travel after high school, after college, and even between jobs is not unusual either. My sister in law took 3-4 months off of work and toured parts of South America! She had the leave saved up, here you get 4 weeks leave per year, so that wasn't too hard to save up, and she's a year older than me, not married. Here Chris and I were considered a bit "young" getting married when we did, while in the US people figured I'd never get married since at 23 I had no prospects!

As much as I worry about spending the next 4, 6, 10 years in school pursuing some degree to get me closer to some career aspirations I have, more than anything else I fear being that person that has a mid-life crisis at 40 because I feel like I never gave myself permission to let go and LIVE while I didn't have the burden of a mortgage, kids to create a stable home life for, and a business to carry.

I am convinced that when we are 70 we look back and instead of thinking "I should have spent more time at work." we are instead wishing that we'd lived in the moment, taken more risks, spent more time with the people we loved instead of worrying about all the things that in the end don't matter so much. Several times I've had people in their 60's and 70's tell me to enjoy being young, take risks, live life to the fullest, and just go for things instead of obsessing over them because before I know it, the chance will have passed me by. But how? They never tell me HOW! Which brings me to my next blog topic---letting go.

Conundrum

What do you do when you realise an opinion you've held for a long time is not quite what you thought it was? One that you've taken inside you and made a part of your very identity? How do you learn to let it go? Why do I end up with such vexing conundrums?

For a while now I've been wrestling with something so deeply ingrained in me that even debating it within my own mind feels like blasphemy. Back and forth I go until I've practically driven myself mad. When I can't contain it inside any longer I finally end up talking it over with a trusted someone else. It's funny how even voicing doubt over a personal opinion feels like you're being unfaithful to yourself!

This is not the first deep issue I've wrestled with in this way. I can replay in my mind's eye the times where I've felt the earth shift from beneath me as something I've based my whole self on crumbles to pieces. They say ignorance is bliss and they (whomever they are) are so right. The more I know the more I realise I don't know. The more I see the more I want to close my eyes and yet know I can't. I know too much and yet not enough.

The rational side of me demands concrete answers to the issues I wrestle with. The intuitive part of me knows that those absolutes aren't there. It's like there's a whole group of people inside my mind sitting at a round table and they are all parts of me. One by one they climb up onto the table in an attempt to dominate my thoughts and drown the others out. But it doesn't work. Someone drags them down and another clamors to be heard above the throng.

In the end I'll get things as sorted out as I can. I know the choice I have to make, but all those other parts of me are still rebelling over it. They all want to be right, they all have their evidence, it's like there are fucking lobbyists in my mind! *snort*

Oh how my INFPness gets on my nerve sometimes.

Another string to my bow.

Last week I went to see my Rheumatologist for what I thought was a flare up of my arthritis. The last 2-3 months have been particularly bad, and I figured the cold winter weather paired with the rain just didn't sit well with my body, so my joints were flaring up and the fatigue came back. Even daily session with the elliptical machine couldn't keep the ache at bay, although it does help with the stiffness a bit!

Well, I was right, I'm in the middle of a flare up, but not from the arthritis. After a chat and some questions, pushing on all the spots that make me jump, and making me feel like produce battered around by a thoughtless cashier, the Rheumatologist explained his suspicions.

The pain I'm having is not from the arthritis. The "joint" pain is really pain from the muscles surrounding the joints, which is why different ones are aching then do when my arthritis is truly being temperamental. The deep muscle pain that I have in various points in my body including pretty much my whole back, neck, shoulder, and chest area, along with the weird sleep problems, cognitive issues, and increasing fatigue I've been having paint a distinct, non-arthritis picture.

What's up? His his opinion I have fibromyalgia. The particular odd sleep patterns are common in patients with Fibromyalgia Syndrome (FMS). Apparently most people don't wake up 4-5 times in a "good" night and 8-9 times in a "restless" night of sleep! I wouldn't know. I've had that problem since I was a teenager, along with the intermittent insomnia that keeps me up for days, muscles that always ache no matter how long or short an activity is, and a whole host of other things. The rain just seemed to intensify things, and the stress I've been under and the whiplash injury earlier this year probably added to it. I knew he'd been pressing certain points along my body to gauge my pain response, and while some have eased up, others are even worse. The ones that have eased are joint specific and probably are from the arthritis, where as the others according to a chart I came across are specific for fibromyalgia. I guess he'd been suspecting it for a while but wanted to make sure the pain wasn't from the arthritis, anemia, or Vitamin D deficiency I've been dealing with. All of those are responding to treatment well, so we're left with....this. To be honest I had a sneaking suspicion I'd hear that diagnosis at some point, I just didn't think it would come in addition to arthritis! *snort*

We've decided to keep my arthritis meds as they are because they obviously are working well, my joints aren't swollen, there's no heat in them and no pain if we take away the muscle pain. In addition we're going to try an extremely low dose of a medication to try and help my sleep cycle. Not a sleeping pill, the GP tried to give me those and I decided not to take them because I thought they'd make things worse. The Rheumatologist said sleeping pills are the wrong thing for this type of sleep problem, I'd end up addicted to them and still not feel better because they disrupt the natural sleep cycle, which I already have going on without are pharmaceutical help! Hopefully this other medication will work. I've been taking a tiny dose for a week now and will double that tonight to what will hopefully be the "maintenance dose". The theory is the medication will help my body relax like it should in the evening, and help me sleep a bit deeper so I'm less likely to wake up with every little thing. When that happens hopefully my muscles won't spend every night on full alert, and that will in turn impact my pain level and fatigue level without major pain medications! So *crosses fingers* it better work damn it!!

Part of me is frustrated to have yet another thing to deal with, but in truth I've been dealing with it all along, it just has a name now. With a name I can assure my body that I hear what it's trying to tell me, and I can learn about it and find ways to improve the matter! So I'm thankful really. After all the bullshit I put up with in other areas of the medical profession, at least I have one kick ass Rheumatologist!!