RECALCULATING

This is being repeated by special request...just for you dear friend.

As each day was lived as a young woman and then a wife, I grew in confidence in who I was and how I lived.  I was sure-footed, capable, and if doubt ever came to me it didn’t stay long because I had a cheerleader in the friend and love that I was married to.

One of the difficult adjustments to my new life as a single, is making decisions with the same confidence I remember from my past.  A fear fills me like I don’t recall before in my life.  I find myself thinking, “What if this is the wrong way to go?”  “What if I make a mistake?”

Then I thought about my GPS system.  Often, I’ll put in a destination on my GPS and then decide to take a detour without adding it to my trip.  As I head off to the detour point, my GPS recalculates the directions to my end point by announcing, “Recalculating.”

That is when it hit me.  Why can’t we deal with life like our GPS deals with our wrong turns.  No finger pointing.  No scolding.  No anger.  No fear.  Just recalculating.

So what if I decide to change course, and it turns out wrong?  I’ll just recalculate a new direction from where I stand.  If my choices turn out to be a mistake, I’ll just pick new choices.  If I decide to try something new and don’t like it, I’ll stop.  If I decide to go somewhere and I don’t enjoy it, I’ll turn around and pick some place else or return home.  Why does it have to be any more complicated than that? No experience is ever worthless, just the opposite.  All experiences have value in lessons of living.

So the next time I am faced with a choice, and it turns out wrong, I'll listen for that gentle voice in my head that will reset my compass with the words, recalculating.

DEALING WITH LIFE'S PASSAGES

 I’m feeling uneasy these days.  Restless.  Antsy.  Still young enough to live and do and enjoy and yet, as those around me begin to die, and I enter their names in the family tree of life that I have kept for the family for over 40 years, I find myself looking back, trying to understand it all.  Searching for the meaning of life, for understanding of purpose and especially wondering how I will handle what days and time is left to me.

My body tells me I am one age, my mind is still that young girl ready to explore and enjoy the sense of freedom I first felt as a young adult, no longer bound to the adults around me, but on my own—me, doing what my own heart and mind tell me, and accepting the consequences of my own decisions and choices I make along the way.

In all the self-help world of books, my most favorite has been Gaily Sheehy’s, “Passages”.  Our children have been studied and their passages through their different age cycles are understood and accepted as being normal.  Until her book came along there was an impression that once we became adults it was one big plateau of life and we all just skidded along until we hit the middle age crises of life…or menopause.  But through her studies we all learned that passages of life continue right up until the day we die.

So living, as I have discovered, is a series of stretching yourself, challenging yourself, kicking back and enjoy the place you found in the journey and then starting all over again. 

My goals for today are to meet new people, see new places, do different things, take on a challenge that has me out of my comfort zone.  Some of these things I am doing and enjoying.  As I prepare for my trip to Alaska and remembering the three day trip I recently took with my daughter to the Grand Canyon, I think how small is my little corner of the world and how we all take for granted that which surrounds us.  

I’m not sure what it is I am searching for. I just want to be open to new ideas, new people, or new situations and carry that curiosity in the normal everyday adventures of living and with some luck I’ll find that new comfortable place discovered in my own journey of life.

NO CHORE FOR CHEWIE

CHEWIE

I want to be more like my dog.  Oh I don’t mean for the pampering, or the plush life he may lead…no I want his kind of personality that just goes with the flow for everything that gets thrown at him. 

Chewie is 16 years old.  Recently he became blind and he lost his hearing.  He still has his scent tracker working but after the lawn gets mowed even that becomes a challenge for him until he marks a new trail.

As I watched him this morning trying to get around a flower that drooped and got in his way, I saw a patient yet determined guy just keep tapping with his nose until he could step out and away from this thing that kept bumping him.  He reminded me of one of those bumper cars you see crashing into a wall, back up and go another direction—crash again—backup.

Chewie is a 4 pound chihuahua.  His breed is normally a one person dog who will take your leg off.  Chewie was never like that with us.  My son, Aaron, first brought him home to us when he left the Air Force.  He had him for four months by this time so Chewie bonded to him first.  But it did not take long for him to snuggle up to us and become a part of our family. Of course when Chewie heard the roar of Aaron’s car coming down the road, he would get very excited.  

Then my Dad moved in with us. It did not take long for my Dad and Chewie to become best buds. Soon the Hospice team came in to care for my Dad and Chewie would sit by my Dad’s chair while the team would care for him. Once the hospital bed came in, Chewie was very content to lay in a bed that we made for him under my Dad’s bed.  He stayed there until the passing of my Dad.  For days afterwards, he would go to my Dad’s room, stop and look, and then go find a place in the sun.

Chewie was born in New Mexico, came cross country to Pennsylvania and now to our home in New Hope.  Getting use to the snow seemed no chore for Chewie.  As long as I shovel a little trail and circle in the yard he is good to go!  Of course the winter time does find him more determined to go and return as quick as possible.  No lingering out in the snow drifts!

Chewie’s ability to adapt to any situation we placed before him always amazed me.  As my husband went through hospice during his last days, Chewie was the everyday companion watching over him and the nursing team that cared for him.  Like my Dad, for days  after Pat’s passing, Chewie would go back to our bedroom where Pat spent the last few years of his life, and stop and stare, but then go find a place in the sun.

I know when looking at him with his white hairs filling in around his face and his eyes showing the signs of his age, that Chewie’s time here with me is coming to an end.  But until then, he still will dance for me, cuddle with me, and show me every day by his sweet personality how to live with change and a body that is aging.  

R.I.P. DEAR RONNIE

”There is no normal life that is free of pain. It's the very wrestling with our problems that can be the impetus for our growth.”—Mr. Rogers

I lost a cousin this week.  I got word from my cousin Carol, that her brother was found dead by his family.  In this life of moving away from home and the people we grew up with, he was one that although there was limited contact, I always kept him in my heart close to me.

We were the same age.  As kids, we spent a lot of time together.  Both of us came from very dysfunctional backgrounds and there was a lot of bonding as we both tried to overcome the negative impact of our childhood.  At about 6 years old I even had a crush on him.  

It is funny, how someone is not part of your everyday, intimate life, yet once they leave this earth there is a hole where once a memory of them lived.  

I am thinking of the farm in Grayslake where my grandparents lived.  Ronnie and his family lived next door to Grandma and Grandpa Curnes in a rented house.  His parents had divorced by this time, and my Aunt Betty had remarried another man, and drinking and the the aftermath of drinking had become a negative part of life at those times.  So when visits to the farm came, Ronnie and I would explore the barn and the fields behind the barn.  The farm was owned by a man who owned the local pharmacy and he would use a corner of the property to dump old out of date items from the pharmacy.  A joy for two young children digging in the pile to see what treasures it would hold.

Ronnie always carried himself with such authority.  He grew up and became a car salesman which fit the personality of the person I knew as a young boy.  His direction in life, his determination to succeed, the confidence he displayed are qualities I will always remember.

I reached out to him later in life and tried to reconnect, but by this time his life had taken a down turn and he was ill and not very happy.  So the communication was brief.  It never stopped me from thinking of him from time to time and remembering the times we shared as children.

Rest in Peace dear cousin.  Rest in Peace.

OMG! IT REALLY WORKS!

 

A romantic look in bed?

I have been on a weird odyssey these past three weeks. I have been trying to adjust to sleeping with a CPAP machine.  Let us just say beauty is no longer in the eyes of the beholder, it is gone forever!!  Instead of “sleeping beauty” I now look like an elephant attached to a machine. 

A sleep study showed that i have sleep apnea.  I stopped breathing 27 times during the night I took the test. No big deal I thought, I wake up every morning. Do yourself a favor and read what sleep apnea can do to you. It will change your mind, especially if you love life!

So with determination, I am working through the issues of sleeping with an attachment on my head and face.  I must say, the moment I put on the contraption, I was surprised at how comfortable and light it was. Falling asleep was no problem for me.  It was what happened during the night.  They first suggested a nose cup.  Sounds simple, but the air was so strong I woke the first morning with my sinus so packed I was dizzy the next morning until I could open them up.  Now the trick is sleeping with the CPAP and a stuffy nose.  Okay, some medication to open the sinus might work. 

It didn’t.  A call into the company to ask for help produced a new face mask.  One that covered both the mouth and nose.  The next morning I woke up to a swollen red eye and red cheek.  I looked like I was in a fight and lost.  So now a few days on this machine I now have a bucket filled head and a face that looks like I’m preparing for Halloween.  

Now what?  A decision to turn the air pressure back a bit to make it more steady.  Next day, found my eye so swollen I had to call my family doctor for help.  Prednisone for the allergic style reaction and antibiotic to help the sinus I go home and hide.  I am not a pretty sight. 

Now the Prednisone and the forced air flow are doing a number on my body.  I feel swollen and puffy and downright miserable.  But I am compliant!  That means I am using the CPAP at least 4 hours a night and Medicare will cover the equipment.  Determination carries on.

Another call to the company and a young man named Mark comes for a visit with some new suggestions.  For the first time I feel I am talking to someone who knows what they are talking about.  Turns out the red eye-red cheek is from the forced air blowing over the skin.  Not an allergy at all.  He set me up with two other mask possibilities and told me to try them.

This time a nose plug style.  No air leaking onto the face, pressure turned down per the doctor, and OMG!  I slept through the night and woke up feeling refreshed.  Not tired, dragging, and slow to start. Not waking during the night is a new experience for me.  It is light weight, QUIET, and yes, I still look like the elephant attached to the machine, but hey life is life and worth the living.  

Ah, the challenges of life and living in this stage called the “golden years”.  Isn’t it beautiful?

BACKROAD DRIVES LIFT MY SPIRITS

Like waves in an ocean, my ups and downs though my daily living is neither really down or really up.  They have always been there, but at this stage of my life there seems to be more intenseness to them at times. Is it because there is no one there reminding me that it will get better and when they are good no one to share it with?  I don’t know.  I am still working on accepting this stage of my life and finding joy in it.  Living my life by accepting the changes in it is my goal.

It is getting better.  Really it is.  I have got a busy few weeks coming my way and this helps in my living out this journey with joy.  I am taking a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Alaska with some lady friends in my community.  A two week fly-drive-ship travel through the West Coast, Alaska and the Canadian Rockies.  If it measures up to my experience at the Grand Canyon, I’ll be left speechless…well maybe I will.  Speechless has never been one of my issues of life!

When I return I have a week then I have been asked to drive a friend to her the place where she thinks she wants to retire.  A 10 day trip of exploration and meeting other strong robust women who survive this world on their own.  I am looking forward to that too.  

Then after that, I want to go visit my brother and his family.  I have not seen him since Pat died and it is time I spend some time with him and say thank you for being a great brother.  He and his family are the only ones left on my side of the family.  We are the older generation!

I like these kinds of adventures.  I like the journey as much as the destination.  It is when I am my most content in the day.  There is something about the freedom of movement that fulfills me.  I can sit quiet, and just be.  But in movement there has always been a joy for me.  

My favorite thing to do, when the blues set in, is to get in my car and just drive.  Pick a back road and explore.  Stop and stare at the countryside so it gets planted in my memory about how lucky I am and how beautiful the area in which I live is.  

Driving down the highway of life has always represented my independence, from the first time i drove my 66 VW Bug down the highway as a young women, widows open, heater on, music loud—that sense of freedom and adventure filled me then as it does today when I head out on the road with no particular place to go.  

I really would like to drive cross country before I die, but age and knowing what can happen makes me have to find someone to be a travel partner.  I have not found that person yet, but I won’t give up trying.  

So, this Sunday, as I sit and watch the sun trying to peek through the clouds, I plan on taking one of those backroad drives with a friend, have dinner, and get through the day just enjoying whatever it may bring.  I can’t ask for anything more!

FORGOT TO LOVE MYSELF

As I grew up

I was quiet, so I could feel loved

I was a good girl, so I could feel loved

I was good in school, so I could feel loved

I had jobs early in life, so I could feel loved

I worked for others, so I could feel loved

I gave up my share, so I could feel loved

I sacrificed for others, so I could feel loved

I gave to my husband, so I could feel loved

I gave to my children, so I could feel loved

I gave to my friends, so I could feel loved

I never fussed, so i could feel loved

I worked hard, so I could feel loved

Then I lost the one person whose love I felt returned

Unconditional it was, complete and full.

I stand now alone.

Searching.

Then I realized in all this giving I forgot to love myself.

Where to begin?