Archive for the The Journey Category

I went to a special lunch event today with my job and ended up sitting next to a woman I greatly admire. I made a point to ask questions and really listen to what she had to say because I want to learn from her. She has walked a path of great suffering since she lost her husband to sudden illness last year. She looks frail in every conceivable way but she is one of the strongest people I know.

At one point during our conversation she said, “Losing my husband is the hardest thing I’ve ever been through. It’s like an amputation of the heart. My life will never be the same. But I make a decision every day to keep living, even when I don’t want to. I have so many blessings and I force myself to remember them.” She recounted losing her parents and even a 17 month old grand-daughter. Never once during the conversation did she complain. I could tell she has a lot of experience holding back tears because she did not cry and her voice never wavered. Her right hand trembled slightly as she delicately placed her fork into her salad. Several bites in she said, “I lost my appetite when John(not his real name) died. But I know I must eat, so I do. I don’t manage change well, but change is a part of life.”

I have never experienced that kind of pain and was struck by her resolve. While the world zips by around her, she lives in a cocoon of grief. After 47 years of marriage, she is alone. And I could think was, “It’s not fair.”

All of us manage pain in some capacity, some better than others, and in varying degrees. From the cold finality of death, to the loss of a job, pain does not discriminate. It invades our lives when we least expect it and crushes us with tentacles stronger than steel.

I spent most of my childhood in abject pain. Picked on by children at school, and misunderstood by family, I began acting out. I so craved approval from my peers that I earned a reputation as a class clown. I would do anything for a laugh, including flopping on the ground and flailing around as if I was having a seizure. One of my favorite cries for attention was belching with the boys. I just wanted someone to tell me I belonged, that I was “normal” and I wasn’t a social outcast. Of course I picked all of the wrong activities for a young girl. I had a beige jacket that zipped all the way to the top of the hood and took turns bobbing around blindly, bumping into my classmates as if I was some kind of deranged lunatic recently escaped from the asylum. They would laugh and scream and shun me further but I craved their attention. I didn’t understand why their laughter was not acceptance and I wholeheartedly refused to listen to my mother when she said, “Stop acting so weird and people will like you.” I didn’t know how to stop acting weird. Quite obviously I have never figured it out.

Clearly I have very simple problems. I don’t have cancer. My children are all relatively healthy. I am gainfully employed. I can’t even imagine what it would feel like to not know where I was going to sleep tonight. Or even worse if I did and it did not involve a roof. I am always struck by the homeless who linger outside the baseball games down town. Their faces sag under the weight of addiction and rejection. I walk by arrogantly and judge them even as I work to forget their faces.

Pain is a part of this world whether we like it or not. We have two choices to deal with it. Wallow and sulk or keep moving. Grief is a rational response. So is anger. And still, we must keep moving because if we stop, our growth is stunted. If we choose to stay in that place of pain, we diminish and are forever defined by that moment of sorrow. I admire and enjoy people who have suffered and learned from the experience, but I loathe those who froze in place. Not because they are less human, but because they are so unpleasant to be around. My own little slice of suffering gives me perspective and hope. Perspective, that pain does not last forever. Hope, that happiness will come again.

While my journey is very different than that of my friend, we have one thing in common: conscious movement. We recognize that staying in place is counterproductive. It is difficult for her to move when her heart is so heavy, but she knows there is still beauty in the world to be experienced. So I’m going to quote my favorite Pixar character here, and if you haven’t seen Finding Nemo, I still think you’ll understand. “Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming.”

My husband and I went to the Cardinal’s Game today and had the good fortune to sit in a suite. I won tickets through the company I work for and was blessed to go with several co-workers. Boy-oh-boy is it fancy in the suite. The best thing about it is all the free food. Hot dogs, nachos, wings, chicken strips and all you can drink alcohol and soda. Alas, no veggies. My husband caught me snacking on a few strips of celery and said, “Margaret, I think that’s the garnish.” I chuckled. “Well, it’s edible, isn’t it?

I remember my “carefree” days when ‘all you can eat’ crud was fantastic. Now I look at nachos and feel a gurgle in my tummy–and not the good kind. But I have to admit, it all looks and smells so good. And while I’m enjoying the conversation of good company I start to snack and nibble and pretty soon I’m carried away. On popcorn that is. This is the one thing I allow myself to gobble unrestrained. No soda, or hotdogs(sacrilege at a ballgame, I know) and definitely no alcohol. Sounds like a lot of fun, doesn’t it?

But here’s my point, I can go to a ballgame, be surrounded by food and not pig out. It is easier today than it was even a year ago. I used to cringe at the savory temptation. It actually was painful to turn down free food. But I had to ask myself the question, “How many calories are in that hot dog?” and “Is it really worth it?” And while in certain circumstances I will indulge, today was not one of them. At home I have armed myself with an arsenal of goodies that are a fraction of the calories and won’t make me feel like crap after I eat them. I just have to wait until I get there to dig in.

I feel like many heavy people look at me and think “I can’t do what she does.” But it’s not complicated. It all starts with saying no when you mean yes. It’s that “easy.” When someone offers you ice cream, say, “No, thank you” even if you really want it. And sure, you may hate the feeling of denying your sweet tooth in the moment, but if you continue to make healthy choices, you will achieve your goals. It feels fundamentally wrong to deny myself when my fat is screaming to be enhanced. But my fat is a liar! And my will to lose weight/maintain weight is so much stronger. As anyone who knows me can attest, I am not perfect. But I am trying to stay healthy and I refuse to give in to all of my cravings.

I had a blast at the ballgame and I left fully satisfied. I was able to visit with my friends and enjoy a few treats. Most of all, I’m proud of myself because today I made good choices. And that, my friends, is so much more powerful than a belly full of game food.

Sometimes inspiration appears at the moment you least expect it. When it happens, stop and savor.

I don’t want to delve into cheap clichés about smelling roses and life being short. The truth is, sometimes life is difficult and painful and no matter the blessings I find myself bitter. It is easy to get stuck in that rut by complaining and setting my focus on the negative. This morning it’s physical pain. I am frustrated that my back and hip refuse to heal as quickly as I want them to. I am forced to live in this place of injury that affects every aspect of my life. From trouble sleeping, to working(hurts when I sit too long) to a complete inability to do any form of yard work. It’s depressing, actually.

Have you ever met that person who won’t shut up about their physical problems? I worked with someone once who insisted on describing her bowel movements in great detail. I quit after 10 months. She was the most negative person I have ever encountered. I don’t EVER want to be that person.

This morning I quaked and groaned out of bed. I had a deep desire to ride my bike and a sincere worry that I would make my injury worse if I did so. But I so craved the sunshine. Decisions, decisions. So I stretched and used my heating pad and decided to ride carefully rather than stay home and pout. It was slow going but I love the fresh air. The clouds were absolutely stunning so I just sucked in the sunshine and let my heart unclutter. I decided to take a different road and found myself by the airport. I looked up and there it was…my reason for climbing on my bike this morning.

And my camera doesn’t do it justice but my heart feels lighter and that is what is most important.

An Epsom salt bath and some ice later and I’m still in pain. I’m getting ready to head out the door for all of the errands that must be accomplished in this sweltering St. Louis weather. But I wanted to share with others that when we take time to explore, when we invest in our bodies, when we open our eyes to the beauty around us, we will find tranquility that we will never encounter when shutting ourselves in our homes or complaining.

Go see something new today–even if it is the mysterious box turtled crossing the road in suburbia(I almost ran over him!). And let your heart be light!