I saw something beautiful a couple weeks back that I wanted to share with you.
Andy and I went to my parent's house for the weekend, including going to church. The praise band got up and ready to lead music for the second service. There was a guitar, three singers, a bass, a drummer, and...a four year old boy. He had his own guitar--not a ukulele, a child-sized guitar--and he was watching very closely so he could strum in time with the guitarist. While he was strumming along, he'd move his top hand from time to time and you could hear a chord every now and again with the rest of the band. He started off next to the guitarist, but he made his way over to the bass player and over to the singers, one of which he was related to. He had a big grin and was so jubilant to be up there. I wanted to take a picture but a) did not think I could take one that would give the vision justice, b) didn't want to get in position to try and take a good picture in the middle of church, and c) wouldn't put up a picture on the internet of a minor without permission anyway.
I hope that you can trust me, though, when I tell you it was truly something beautiful. Here's the thing, though: I know people that would have been actively upset that he was up there, that the music wasn't just right for "their service." In fact, when my folks were introduced to this child's parents, they made sure to mention that they could have him stop if it was going to be a problem. My father is definitely a "let the children come to me" kind of pastor, so he immediately reassured them that this little boy was not only welcome with the praise band but very much encouraged. So many people could have stomped on that little boy and the joy he had in being part of that group.
I cannot promise that it meant as much to him now as it will in a few years, but I think understanding that you are wanted and included has a great impact regardless. That feeling should stay with him, even if playing the guitar doesn't.
There was another beautiful sight that Sunday as well: Andy played his accordion and sang a song, which is always lovely, but what was really special about it was the group of kids that came up to inspect his accordion afterwards. Andy held court over about eight of them, all varying ages and none of which seemed to have seen an accordion in person before. When Andy let them press a button or pull out the bellows, they were genuinely excited and asked a lot of questions, all of which Andy patiently answered. A couple of brothers swore that they were going to have their father buy them one, which the father immediately chimed in that they were expensive (the boys weren't concerned for some reason).
Where do we lose our wonder, that brazen ability to go up and ask questions, and the excitement of having a new experience?
Sometimes, it's beaten out of us, like if someone were to take the four year old's guitar and tell him that he wasn't allowed to play with the band anymore. Sometimes, we believe it when people tell us we're not good enough. Sometimes, we're just too worn down to appreciate the world around us.
To a child, most everything is new, but there is more to our experiences than novelty. Truly, it can just be a matter of perspective. Andy, for example, still has a child-like wonder about many things, and I love him for it. I ask a lot of questions because I'm genuinely excited to learn something new. I have known other people that have retained that spark, where they retain that wonder and joy of experience at all ages. I also have known people that have been dead since eighteen but won't be buried for many years yet.
How this wonder is lost, there are many ways and many reasons. A traumatic incident shocked it out of you; it was ultimately stomped-out by either direct antagonism or lack or support; or perhaps there are too many things to worry about in the world to spend the time to encourage that sensation any more, so it fades away. Reclaim that part of yourself; it used to be a part of you at some time. Wonder is not only something beautiful to witness in a child, but it is a whole perspective on the world. Particularly in a time where hopelessness and tragedy is broadcast and omnipresent, keeping open and appreciative of the ordinary beauty around you can become a defense mechanism in and of itself. That perspective shift can be enough relief and distance to think through the rest of how we need to attack the world from there. Or it can at least take some of the stress out of the holiday season. What better time than the holiday season to indulge in the sensation once again?
Saturday, November 14, 2015
Sunday, November 8, 2015
November Goals
Hey, all!
So November has rolled around, even though the weather doesn't seem much like it. Some have embraced this season all the same with some special frenzy: for those who haven't heard of it, it is NaNoWriMo. This is an acronym for National Novel Writers' Month.
It's a competition with yourself in spirit with many, many other people to write a novel in the month of November, specifically 50,000 words. Everyone writes their own 50K, but there is a community of support, where people participate in write-ins--meeting other participants somewhere nearby to write or talk together--or comment on forums when someone needs an professional opinion--what actually would happen to a nuclear reactor in X situation from a fellow writer who is actually a nuclear physicist is a real example I had seen on one of the boards--and other general advice/prompts/encouragement. Even persons with no actual experience in writing can get a great deal out NaNoWriMo.
The idea isn't necessarily to create great art, but to create quantity and, even more importantly, to get into the habit of creating. I have won NaNoWriMo at least three times and each time I was back into a better habit of writing for at least a while longer again. What have I done with these completed pieces? Not much, but, again, that the act of creation itself can have as much value if not more than the actual product.
I've been spending a lot of time assessing my goals of late: I'm working on some professional goals in learning new material, I'm taking piano lessons, I've been going back to the gym, and, oh yeah, I started this blog thing. The hardest part, particularly with working the gym time back in there, is managing my energy. Living with a chronic illness is always subconsciously about managing your energy. If a healthy person runs out of energy it means a complete different thing than if a chronically ill person runs out of energy. When I am done, I am done. As an example, the difference is between "I have just enough to get back home" or "someone needs to carry me into the house." On bad days, taking a shower and getting dressed would deplete what I had for most of the day. In my major recuperation from Mayos, I would eat something and immediately go to sleep, being unconscious for the majority of the day if possible because there wasn't much else I was able to do anyway or on enough heavy medications that I couldn't focus well. I also don't bounce back nearly so well as I would like, meaning that when I try to borrow energy against tomorrow, it's a slow climb back to normal usually over a few days to be okay again. I've gotten to a point where I consistently have enough energy to get through the work day, but what I can do in the evening is still always in flux.
I remember having energy to do most everything. I had a ridiculously packed schedule for some long stretches in college, one of those periods of time I started dating Andy on top of all else--I could still make time for what was important, but I had everything planned down to minutes. I expected some energy depletion when I got older, but I really have no idea how much better this might or might not get.
Some of this is my long explanation for why I haven't updated much recently. But some of this coupled with this month being NaNoWriMo inspires this declaration: I want to post at least fifteen different blog posts in the month of November. Going for the whole NaNoWriMo goal this month I know would be too much (not that I couldn't catch up by this point--I've done 10K in a weekend before). When I have done NaNoWriMo, this usually means that I have to sequester myself accordingly, and I'm also not willing to do that this go around. In fact, I've already neglected my husband enough with some of my new interest in going to the gym--I do like spending time with him, actually. As such, yes, there will be many updates happening. I expect the subject matter to be a certain flavor of varied, too, not to mention some of the quality. This is where I'm choosing to direct some of that energy for the next while. Thanks for coming along for the ride through this exercise.
The idea isn't necessarily to create great art, but to create quantity and, even more importantly, to get into the habit of creating. I have won NaNoWriMo at least three times and each time I was back into a better habit of writing for at least a while longer again. What have I done with these completed pieces? Not much, but, again, that the act of creation itself can have as much value if not more than the actual product.
I've been spending a lot of time assessing my goals of late: I'm working on some professional goals in learning new material, I'm taking piano lessons, I've been going back to the gym, and, oh yeah, I started this blog thing. The hardest part, particularly with working the gym time back in there, is managing my energy. Living with a chronic illness is always subconsciously about managing your energy. If a healthy person runs out of energy it means a complete different thing than if a chronically ill person runs out of energy. When I am done, I am done. As an example, the difference is between "I have just enough to get back home" or "someone needs to carry me into the house." On bad days, taking a shower and getting dressed would deplete what I had for most of the day. In my major recuperation from Mayos, I would eat something and immediately go to sleep, being unconscious for the majority of the day if possible because there wasn't much else I was able to do anyway or on enough heavy medications that I couldn't focus well. I also don't bounce back nearly so well as I would like, meaning that when I try to borrow energy against tomorrow, it's a slow climb back to normal usually over a few days to be okay again. I've gotten to a point where I consistently have enough energy to get through the work day, but what I can do in the evening is still always in flux.
I remember having energy to do most everything. I had a ridiculously packed schedule for some long stretches in college, one of those periods of time I started dating Andy on top of all else--I could still make time for what was important, but I had everything planned down to minutes. I expected some energy depletion when I got older, but I really have no idea how much better this might or might not get.
Some of this is my long explanation for why I haven't updated much recently. But some of this coupled with this month being NaNoWriMo inspires this declaration: I want to post at least fifteen different blog posts in the month of November. Going for the whole NaNoWriMo goal this month I know would be too much (not that I couldn't catch up by this point--I've done 10K in a weekend before). When I have done NaNoWriMo, this usually means that I have to sequester myself accordingly, and I'm also not willing to do that this go around. In fact, I've already neglected my husband enough with some of my new interest in going to the gym--I do like spending time with him, actually. As such, yes, there will be many updates happening. I expect the subject matter to be a certain flavor of varied, too, not to mention some of the quality. This is where I'm choosing to direct some of that energy for the next while. Thanks for coming along for the ride through this exercise.
Saturday, November 7, 2015
Celebrity Worship
I realized that I forgot an important group when talking about loving things that don't love you back--celebrity worship. I just don't get it.
How many posters, t-shirts, signed whatevers, and all else do we keep and place in a space of honor in our home? Memorabilia can be a highly lucrative market because people have collectively decided that this particular scribble on a piece of paper or a photograph makes it valuable.
When we forget that our chosen celebrity is a person and not a god, we can find ourselves at some interesting crossroads. When a celebrity does something wrong--illegal or just morally grey--so many people that they have never met either condemn their actions or rise up to their defense. And then this becomes the most important topic of conversation. Over a person that we will likely never meet. And regarding circumstances that we will probably never be fully privy to and frankly will never be essential to know or enriches my life in any way. And yet, that's sometimes all people talk about, myself included.
Where is the line between appreciation and idolatry? I know lots of other people that are really good at their jobs, but their positions, while important, are less public. It seems that artistic careers--acting, music, writing, etc.--tend to veer more toward this kind notoriety, with a some exceptions into academia and bleeding over into sports. Actually, any career that demands an audience, which included politicians, too--I suppose that would have to be the common denominator.
What do people do with fame when they have it? We've seen people burn out in a great explosion, people who realize they don't want to be famous, people who will do anything to stay relevant, and those who can turn the experience into something good. I was watching Castle the other day and the moral lesson was that "Money doesn't change you. It just magnifies who you are." I think fame works in much the same way.
Then idols become caricatures of people, exaggerating features and stretching proportions. And somewhere along the way, we forget that they were or are people in the first place. We do the same thing to historical figures. When that emotion and complexity is stripped away, we lose our ability to empathize with them or otherwise understand their situation. With celebrities, we often jump to judging without giving anyone the benefit of the doubt or rise to the defense without considering possibilities. With historical figures, they've been so washed out with time that don't remember that the decisions people made were factoring in rich context, the background that individual brought in the situation, and the real pressure of the event.
For the historical events, it's easier to process some of them when we don't remember that they were real people, but so much is missed when we don't factor that in. How have these decisions changed our world moments at a time?
For the celebrities, I feel that we do this on purpose. However, I don't have a good, clean answer as to why. My brother and I watched Maury for a while mostly because it was something that a) made us feel better about ourselves as human beings for not making the same choices and b) it was mesmerizing and difficult to avert ones gaze, like passing by an accident on the side of the road. We wanted these persons to be less than people so that we could safely judge without repercussions. Sometimes, it is just the opposite, that we want to elevate these persons, strip them of their humanity, in order to look up to them and have something to aspire to. Either way, I don't think that we do this consciously, but still with intention.
We lose something when we take away someone's humanity and see them as something less than human. People are such much easier to group when we strip away their differences and their complexity. As an example: "He's just a thug/ tool/ millennial/ snob/ hipster/ minimum-wage lackey/ dick/ conservative/ democrat/ whaterverelse." It's easier to demonize people when we see them as less than human. Anytime someone says "The problems in this country are caused by [specific group of people]," I cringe for many of reasons. The great atrocities against our own species start by reducing people to something as less than human. Even that asshole that cut you off yesterday has complexity and is a person. He might actually be an asshole, but he is more than that, too. (As an aside, I tend to grudgingly assume that they're on the way to the hospital trying to get to someone they love; it helps me forgive them.)
Remembering that people are people and subject to the same respect and dignity regardless of what they look like or what box they fit in, that's a real trick. It changes how you approach people and situations. All persons are deserving of respect and dignity, because they have value simply in being people. I would like to take that one step further, that I don't believe necessarily that one person is more important than another. There are those I love more and know better, but everyone has value. People caught in war, in poverty, in health crises, or whatever else have my sympathy and empathy where I can. We are connected in our humanity.
It's easier to put people in boxes. Everyone has reasons for why they act and are a certain way--not excuses, per say, but reasons. It's an investment to take the time to consider that when there is a real urge to judge instead. It's easier to judge. It's easier to assume. It's so much faster, too, and saves a great deal of effort. And what do we now do with all of that extra time and energy that we have? ...wait in line for an autograph? I would rather take the extra moment to treat the people I will meet respect, give people the benefit of the doubt, and otherwise remember that we are all people. At least when I have the energy to do so. It's a habit worth trying to break.
How many posters, t-shirts, signed whatevers, and all else do we keep and place in a space of honor in our home? Memorabilia can be a highly lucrative market because people have collectively decided that this particular scribble on a piece of paper or a photograph makes it valuable.
When we forget that our chosen celebrity is a person and not a god, we can find ourselves at some interesting crossroads. When a celebrity does something wrong--illegal or just morally grey--so many people that they have never met either condemn their actions or rise up to their defense. And then this becomes the most important topic of conversation. Over a person that we will likely never meet. And regarding circumstances that we will probably never be fully privy to and frankly will never be essential to know or enriches my life in any way. And yet, that's sometimes all people talk about, myself included.
Where is the line between appreciation and idolatry? I know lots of other people that are really good at their jobs, but their positions, while important, are less public. It seems that artistic careers--acting, music, writing, etc.--tend to veer more toward this kind notoriety, with a some exceptions into academia and bleeding over into sports. Actually, any career that demands an audience, which included politicians, too--I suppose that would have to be the common denominator.
What do people do with fame when they have it? We've seen people burn out in a great explosion, people who realize they don't want to be famous, people who will do anything to stay relevant, and those who can turn the experience into something good. I was watching Castle the other day and the moral lesson was that "Money doesn't change you. It just magnifies who you are." I think fame works in much the same way.
Then idols become caricatures of people, exaggerating features and stretching proportions. And somewhere along the way, we forget that they were or are people in the first place. We do the same thing to historical figures. When that emotion and complexity is stripped away, we lose our ability to empathize with them or otherwise understand their situation. With celebrities, we often jump to judging without giving anyone the benefit of the doubt or rise to the defense without considering possibilities. With historical figures, they've been so washed out with time that don't remember that the decisions people made were factoring in rich context, the background that individual brought in the situation, and the real pressure of the event.
For the historical events, it's easier to process some of them when we don't remember that they were real people, but so much is missed when we don't factor that in. How have these decisions changed our world moments at a time?
For the celebrities, I feel that we do this on purpose. However, I don't have a good, clean answer as to why. My brother and I watched Maury for a while mostly because it was something that a) made us feel better about ourselves as human beings for not making the same choices and b) it was mesmerizing and difficult to avert ones gaze, like passing by an accident on the side of the road. We wanted these persons to be less than people so that we could safely judge without repercussions. Sometimes, it is just the opposite, that we want to elevate these persons, strip them of their humanity, in order to look up to them and have something to aspire to. Either way, I don't think that we do this consciously, but still with intention.
We lose something when we take away someone's humanity and see them as something less than human. People are such much easier to group when we strip away their differences and their complexity. As an example: "He's just a thug/ tool/ millennial/ snob/ hipster/ minimum-wage lackey/ dick/ conservative/ democrat/ whaterverelse." It's easier to demonize people when we see them as less than human. Anytime someone says "The problems in this country are caused by [specific group of people]," I cringe for many of reasons. The great atrocities against our own species start by reducing people to something as less than human. Even that asshole that cut you off yesterday has complexity and is a person. He might actually be an asshole, but he is more than that, too. (As an aside, I tend to grudgingly assume that they're on the way to the hospital trying to get to someone they love; it helps me forgive them.)
Remembering that people are people and subject to the same respect and dignity regardless of what they look like or what box they fit in, that's a real trick. It changes how you approach people and situations. All persons are deserving of respect and dignity, because they have value simply in being people. I would like to take that one step further, that I don't believe necessarily that one person is more important than another. There are those I love more and know better, but everyone has value. People caught in war, in poverty, in health crises, or whatever else have my sympathy and empathy where I can. We are connected in our humanity.
It's easier to put people in boxes. Everyone has reasons for why they act and are a certain way--not excuses, per say, but reasons. It's an investment to take the time to consider that when there is a real urge to judge instead. It's easier to judge. It's easier to assume. It's so much faster, too, and saves a great deal of effort. And what do we now do with all of that extra time and energy that we have? ...wait in line for an autograph? I would rather take the extra moment to treat the people I will meet respect, give people the benefit of the doubt, and otherwise remember that we are all people. At least when I have the energy to do so. It's a habit worth trying to break.
Saturday, October 17, 2015
Things that Don't Love You Back
For those that don't know, Andy and I have a rosy boa named Sprinkles. His brand of snake needs to eat once a week or so and not at all when shedding or brumating. But he hasn't eaten for a couple months now, so we're officially getting worried. Andy has been especially good at researching what we should try and contacting different resources, but so far Sprinkles is not striking and is otherwise more afraid of his food than interested.
This has raised some interesting questions for me. Do I love my pet? He biologically cannot love. A cat, a dog, or even a larger snake can to some extent. Sprinkles just isn't that smart. But he's still our pet. We enjoy him; he's an amazing creature and we say we love him for his looks. We want him to be comfortable and live well. As we fight with him to get him to eat--especially each time we try to pull him out and for a moment we wonder if he's dead--I'm still not sure how I might feel about him dying.
I know that I would be upset, but I don't think I would feel worse than losing my phone. This confession sounds heartless, but it is honest. That being said, if the evil supervillian were making me choose between our snake and my phone, I would choose the living creature each time. Now between our snake and our car, that gives me more pause, considering the investment.
But it's still a confusing question: how much can or should I love something that cannot love me back?
I had my legion of stuffed animals growing up, and each time I accidentally knocked one of them off the bed, I hugged them and apologized. As I got older, I had to explicitly remind myself that they, in fact, could not feel. This was not made any easier by movies such as Toy Story or stories like The Velveteen Rabbit that implied all kinds of possibilities. The Goosebumps book Night of the Living Dummy gave me nightmares for a while. When I reached a point where I was ready to donate these stuffed animals, I reminded myself that it was better that someone else love them than for them to stay in storage. I have kept a couple that were especially important, but I had a decent collection of animals and beanie-babies and projected emotions and affection from all of them. I still prefer to imagine that they have found loving homes. When we traded in our mini-van, I was upset and thinking about all the "good-times" that we'd had together. I don't even remember the van now, whether it was the red one or the white one with the wood.
How much time and energy have I spent loving things that cannot love me back?
I know many people that lavish affection on things. Calling their car their baby and treating it as such. Worshiping a computer, phone, or video game system. Loving a dream to an extent that it is more of a stagnant affection, spending more energy dreaming than doing. A job can do things for you, but it doesn't necessarily love you back (if yours does, good for you). That thing could also be a concept, such as having a lot of money, reaching a specific platitude (right body, right job, right status symbol, etc.), or basically anything that you can fill in this sentence: "I would be happy if only I had _________."
How fiercely we have protected and cherished things that can never return the favor. Where can that time an energy be better spent?
Why do we not spend it on people? I have seen things and ideas chosen over people all the time, even with the countless Christmas specials on why this is wrong.
There's absolutely a risk. People let you down, that whole imperfect thing that we do. And to make things even more complicated, sometimes people don't love you back. Here is where I have some mixed feelings.
On the one hand, I need to protect myself. I remember one of my first "friends" from when I was five or six. The quotes are there because this person extorted me with friendship: if I did not give her a couple of specific toys, she "wasn't going to be my friend anymore." After she had left, one of my parents found me crying and asked what was wrong. I was directed to ask for those toys back and told that I didn't have to give her things if I didn't want to. I did ask. We got some of them back. I'm not sure if she made good on her threat or if my parents intervened, but I don't even remember her name nor have I spent much time thinking about her since. You can love people that do not love you back. When someone doesn't feel the same way as you do--regardless of what kind of relationship it is--it is hard and it can hurt. When someone doesn't love you back, sometimes the best thing to do is to back off and even cut ties, if necessary.
On the other hand, those that don't love you back might be those that need it the most. To paraphrase Jesus, it's easy to love those that love you back; it's hard to love your enemies. But that kind of love is what changes people and us in turn. The people who are hardest to love usually need it the most. I know some people that are outwardly abrasive or annoying or something else undesirable, but they still deserve to be welcomed, too. If I withhold friendship until they change to something I like, how am I better than my "friend" who wanted my toys? Withholding friendship is a form of bullying. Jesus welcomed everyone, especially the undesirables, and I cannot ignore that. But this also comes with a certain amount of risk. You can lose standing with others, you can still get hurt or taken advantage of, or, the worse case scenario, the undesirable could spend more time with you. Really though, I would hope that we could see the value of that person in time and that the change would be apparent in both sides.
These are both highly situational. Sometimes it's obvious and other times it's a murky kind of mess where perhaps you could be too close to know what to do. I happen to think that people are worth the attempt. I want to give people the benefit of the doubt. Yes, it takes energy to care about someone and to reach out to them, but what can be gained is worth the effort. AND I can easily make up that spent effort by loving "things" less.
Except maybe our dumb snake. I like our dumb snake. I still hope we can convince him to eat.
There's absolutely a risk. People let you down, that whole imperfect thing that we do. And to make things even more complicated, sometimes people don't love you back. Here is where I have some mixed feelings.
On the one hand, I need to protect myself. I remember one of my first "friends" from when I was five or six. The quotes are there because this person extorted me with friendship: if I did not give her a couple of specific toys, she "wasn't going to be my friend anymore." After she had left, one of my parents found me crying and asked what was wrong. I was directed to ask for those toys back and told that I didn't have to give her things if I didn't want to. I did ask. We got some of them back. I'm not sure if she made good on her threat or if my parents intervened, but I don't even remember her name nor have I spent much time thinking about her since. You can love people that do not love you back. When someone doesn't feel the same way as you do--regardless of what kind of relationship it is--it is hard and it can hurt. When someone doesn't love you back, sometimes the best thing to do is to back off and even cut ties, if necessary.
On the other hand, those that don't love you back might be those that need it the most. To paraphrase Jesus, it's easy to love those that love you back; it's hard to love your enemies. But that kind of love is what changes people and us in turn. The people who are hardest to love usually need it the most. I know some people that are outwardly abrasive or annoying or something else undesirable, but they still deserve to be welcomed, too. If I withhold friendship until they change to something I like, how am I better than my "friend" who wanted my toys? Withholding friendship is a form of bullying. Jesus welcomed everyone, especially the undesirables, and I cannot ignore that. But this also comes with a certain amount of risk. You can lose standing with others, you can still get hurt or taken advantage of, or, the worse case scenario, the undesirable could spend more time with you. Really though, I would hope that we could see the value of that person in time and that the change would be apparent in both sides.
These are both highly situational. Sometimes it's obvious and other times it's a murky kind of mess where perhaps you could be too close to know what to do. I happen to think that people are worth the attempt. I want to give people the benefit of the doubt. Yes, it takes energy to care about someone and to reach out to them, but what can be gained is worth the effort. AND I can easily make up that spent effort by loving "things" less.
Except maybe our dumb snake. I like our dumb snake. I still hope we can convince him to eat.
Thursday, October 15, 2015
Interlude #5, Planning
So, Andy and I are starting to get ready for a trip we've been planning for a long time. We're working on making our Norway trip happen.
Last week, we put in our applications for renewing our passports, which was certainly more expensive than I remember. But this was the first thing we have actually checked off our list.
As it, this trip is actually happening.
Sure, we've been starting to prepare our finances, meaning that we've been working hard on our debt and (finally) beginning to save. We've been collecting ideas of things that we want to do. We've been trying to make decisions on when would be the best time to go. We've been trying to make sure that we'll have enough time off where needed.
But it's actually happening.
As such, I'm getting pretty damn excited.
That's all I really had to say today. Just wanted to share that excitement.
Last week, we put in our applications for renewing our passports, which was certainly more expensive than I remember. But this was the first thing we have actually checked off our list.
As it, this trip is actually happening.
Sure, we've been starting to prepare our finances, meaning that we've been working hard on our debt and (finally) beginning to save. We've been collecting ideas of things that we want to do. We've been trying to make decisions on when would be the best time to go. We've been trying to make sure that we'll have enough time off where needed.
But it's actually happening.
As such, I'm getting pretty damn excited.
That's all I really had to say today. Just wanted to share that excitement.
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
I'm in Shape: "Roughly Body-Shaped" is a Shape
I've been trying to integrate exercise back into my schedule again, and I've had a very tough time of it. In addition to the expected challenge of keeping to a routine in a busy life, I still have to monitor my body's response. Sometimes, I have a bone-deep fatigue that wipes me out, and it can hit me quite suddenly. This is NOT the same kind of fatigue or pain that you're supposed to just push through; it's not that "just one more repetition; you can do it" kind of pain. This is my body saying "You need to sit down before I make you." I can't explain the difference well; there's just a specific feeling. In those moments, I could push just a little harder, but the results would be a certain kind of disastrous. I know, because I've tried it. I've also tried to get better faster than my body was ready to accept. That always sets me back at least a couple days.
What does that mean to the outside observer? It means I'll say I'm tired and excuse myself, because I've learned that this is okay. But even though it is okay, I sometimes imagine someone thinking "I'm tired, too, but I'm still here," or "Yeah, but you've got to work through the pain." This is a different kind of tired. I won't just have an extra cup in the coffee in the morning and be fine. My body is very sensitive to lack of sleep and to overworking; I would be a few shades of miserable for a day or two.
On those days when I'm starting to feel better or if it's just a good day, I try to instill some healthy policies on what I eat and how much activity I do, but it's very difficult to find a pattern. What's worse is that I've tried to start things multiple times, but have had to stop and start again, seeming to lose whatever progress I had gained. It's like being in the car with someone that has never driven manual before. Then the emotional game gets involved: I get caught in this way of thinking that "If I really loved myself, I would [work out more, eat better, not order that, etc]."
I don't specifically mention to Andy what efforts I try to make any more because I'm disappointed in myself when I can't follow through with them, because what I might be feeling today is not compatible, meaning that I might not have the energy to work out, might be in too much pain to work out, might have to eat X instead of Y because that's what I can stomach today, etc. So when I'm away from home or Andy's in the other room, I have started tricep dips. I'm trying to do at least some basic yoga again. I don't specifically tell him because I don't want that innocent question of "why did you stop?" to happen. I don't want him to find results that he's only seeing to make me feel better, because he's a sweetheart and would try to encourage me. It makes me feel more guilty.
"If I really loved myself, I would take care of myself."
I do love myself. I think I have a lot to offer, and I want to continue to grow into the best me I can be. I'm working on cultivating other skills and trying new things. But I do not love my body. I don't mean that in the traditional sense. I like to dance and move my body. I think it's a great tool. I have clothes that make me feel good about myself. But this massive blob of cells has betrayed me too many times for me to like it.
I have a different perspective on weight--I have lost between 30-40 lbs in a month and I can tell you that weight is just a number. I lost that weight at the height of a Crohn's flare, and I was in essence accidentally starving myself. Food didn't sound good, I was constantly nauseous, what I did eat flushed out, and overall it hurt more to eat than it did to not. I would not recommend that weight loss program to my worst enemy (whomever that might be). Weight can be an indicator of health, but it is not the end-all and be-all. I want to be more healthy and to better my fat-to-muscle ratio. I may or may not lose as many numbers on the scale, but that's okay. I want to have more energy and fit in my clothes a little differently. These are reasonable goals.
I've had to realize that taking care of myself means something different for me than it does anyone else. Not that I'm different from all others, but what is best for me is unique to me and always in some level of flux, just as what's best for someone else is unique to them. For example, some people do well on Paleo and Crossfit. I tell you truly that these would be very difficult on my body--it's hard for me to digest raw food and I don't have the umph to push through that kind of training. Are there things I could be doing better? Sure, and those are what I need to be focusing on. What changes can I incorporate? What changes might I be able to enact down the road?
Some days, all I have an appetite for is something profoundly unhealthy, but it might be the only thing I that sounds good and the only thing I might end up eating. The alternative of having to force oneself to eat is pretty terrible. On days when my appetite is fine and I just want to have some chocolate, is that wrong? I'm never quite sure.
Overall, I'm doing much better in some good ways. I have been freed from survival mode and into betterment mode. Symptoms do not slow me down nearly as much as they used to nor as long as they used to. I can do more overall and typically feel better doing it. But that's not to say that things don't get rough every now and again. Things are always in flux and I'm never quite sure when things are going to take an ill-turn (pun intended). I have a lot of cognitive dissonance on what I need to do; I have the usual problems of staying with whatever program I create; but I plan to do what I can in those windows where things work.
What does that mean to the outside observer? It means I'll say I'm tired and excuse myself, because I've learned that this is okay. But even though it is okay, I sometimes imagine someone thinking "I'm tired, too, but I'm still here," or "Yeah, but you've got to work through the pain." This is a different kind of tired. I won't just have an extra cup in the coffee in the morning and be fine. My body is very sensitive to lack of sleep and to overworking; I would be a few shades of miserable for a day or two.
On those days when I'm starting to feel better or if it's just a good day, I try to instill some healthy policies on what I eat and how much activity I do, but it's very difficult to find a pattern. What's worse is that I've tried to start things multiple times, but have had to stop and start again, seeming to lose whatever progress I had gained. It's like being in the car with someone that has never driven manual before. Then the emotional game gets involved: I get caught in this way of thinking that "If I really loved myself, I would [work out more, eat better, not order that, etc]."
I don't specifically mention to Andy what efforts I try to make any more because I'm disappointed in myself when I can't follow through with them, because what I might be feeling today is not compatible, meaning that I might not have the energy to work out, might be in too much pain to work out, might have to eat X instead of Y because that's what I can stomach today, etc. So when I'm away from home or Andy's in the other room, I have started tricep dips. I'm trying to do at least some basic yoga again. I don't specifically tell him because I don't want that innocent question of "why did you stop?" to happen. I don't want him to find results that he's only seeing to make me feel better, because he's a sweetheart and would try to encourage me. It makes me feel more guilty.
"If I really loved myself, I would take care of myself."
I do love myself. I think I have a lot to offer, and I want to continue to grow into the best me I can be. I'm working on cultivating other skills and trying new things. But I do not love my body. I don't mean that in the traditional sense. I like to dance and move my body. I think it's a great tool. I have clothes that make me feel good about myself. But this massive blob of cells has betrayed me too many times for me to like it.
I have a different perspective on weight--I have lost between 30-40 lbs in a month and I can tell you that weight is just a number. I lost that weight at the height of a Crohn's flare, and I was in essence accidentally starving myself. Food didn't sound good, I was constantly nauseous, what I did eat flushed out, and overall it hurt more to eat than it did to not. I would not recommend that weight loss program to my worst enemy (whomever that might be). Weight can be an indicator of health, but it is not the end-all and be-all. I want to be more healthy and to better my fat-to-muscle ratio. I may or may not lose as many numbers on the scale, but that's okay. I want to have more energy and fit in my clothes a little differently. These are reasonable goals.
I've had to realize that taking care of myself means something different for me than it does anyone else. Not that I'm different from all others, but what is best for me is unique to me and always in some level of flux, just as what's best for someone else is unique to them. For example, some people do well on Paleo and Crossfit. I tell you truly that these would be very difficult on my body--it's hard for me to digest raw food and I don't have the umph to push through that kind of training. Are there things I could be doing better? Sure, and those are what I need to be focusing on. What changes can I incorporate? What changes might I be able to enact down the road?
Some days, all I have an appetite for is something profoundly unhealthy, but it might be the only thing I that sounds good and the only thing I might end up eating. The alternative of having to force oneself to eat is pretty terrible. On days when my appetite is fine and I just want to have some chocolate, is that wrong? I'm never quite sure.
Overall, I'm doing much better in some good ways. I have been freed from survival mode and into betterment mode. Symptoms do not slow me down nearly as much as they used to nor as long as they used to. I can do more overall and typically feel better doing it. But that's not to say that things don't get rough every now and again. Things are always in flux and I'm never quite sure when things are going to take an ill-turn (pun intended). I have a lot of cognitive dissonance on what I need to do; I have the usual problems of staying with whatever program I create; but I plan to do what I can in those windows where things work.
Sunday, September 27, 2015
Interlude #4, Movie Thoughts
Some thoughts while watching movies:
- I believe it is absolutely possible to die from second-hand embarrassment. What I mean by this is in those moments where you want to curl up and die along with the character who is going through the most embarrassing moment of his/her life, even if the character doesn't even have the good grace to be ashamed.
- If you assume that horror movies take place in an alternate universe where horror movies don't exist, your characters seem a lot more believable and less "dumb."
- Will we look at post-apocalyptic movies in the same way that we look at movies set in the future? With Back to the Future hitting its thirty years into the future this November, there are a lot of points where we can reflect what was right and what was waaaay off-base. If, hypothetically, footage survived after some kind of apocalypse, would we look at some of those movies in the same way?
- Sometimes, an actor/actress is more distracting when you know them from other things, particularly when envisioning what their other character might have done in this situation. This game is particularly fun when said actor/actress has had some specific defining roles and/or odd ones or when the current movie is particularly dull.
- How much plot have I missed collectively from trying to figure out where else I know a particular actor/actress from?
- How bad does a movie have to be to be enjoyably bad?
- When watching a movie or reading a book, there is a suspension of disbelief. Where do we draw the line for when things get too unbelievable to suspend it any longer? For me, I find that this varies for me based on what kind of world I'm expected to buy into.
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