May 4: Pretty profound
It doesn't do any good to apologize anymore, and Carol may now be the only one checking this blog at all! Life goes on and now that things are stable (NOT boring, stable!) there just isn't as much that I think you would find interesting. So, with the thought that there may only be a couple people still reading this it allows me to really pour my guts out....
I've been fighting a battle against depression of late, something it took me a while to admit even to myself. I've been on anti-depressants since before the second surgery. I tried to come off them a couple times, but found myself getting angry over everything and feel much better on them. This is not an uncommon phenomena for those who have been on heart bypass machines. Something changes your brain chemistry. Obviously with the number of times I was on it is reasonable that there would be permanent changes. It's something I've accepted.
But this is different, sometimes overwhelming, and took a while to figure out. The extreme difficulty is over, I'm pretty well adjusted to the 'new normal', my pain levels are fairly consistent and predictable. Sneezing still hurts a surprising amount, but I can lift a 20 lb container of kitty litter. I'm functioning at a higher level than was ever predicted. It's time that I go back to living my life. And therein lies the problem: what life?
Most people over the age of 40 looking back would change something in their past life if they had things to do over again. A lot of that comes from experience, or sometimes the choice not taken. The standard comment from older people is 'I wish I hadn't worked so much' or 'I wish I'd taken more chances'. Hindsight is, as they say, 20/20. Life, however, doesn't give any real 'do overs.'
My path was not the typical one for most women in my age group. I didn't date much in high school, then went to a all-girl's college for two years before transferring to Temple. Then I dropped out to become a paramedic and was very careful about dating. Girls in EMS in the '80s were often looking for husbands and I wanted to be taken seriously. As the youngest paramedic in Bucks, and at the time one of the only females not a nurse, I knew people were chomping at the bit to jump on any flaws of mine. So I wasn't giving them the ammunition with my personal life. But, sadly, since all I did throughout my 20's was be a paramedic and work my way through school, I never developed a social network. Then I became a PA and had to go into debt. After the roller coaster of my father's constant job changing and always living in fear of financial collapse this was particularly horrible for me. So, I worked full-time as a PA during the week and a paramedic on the weekends. Partly that was financial, but part of it was that I truly loved being a medic. So, no social development in my 30s. Not only that, but I didn't ever do much interesting stuff, because there wasn't enough time.
After I turned 40, had a great paying job, a beautiful house and my dream car, it was time for a re-evaluation. This is, of course, a very common time for people to do that, with the recognition that they are probably half-way through their lives. And I realized it was time to start living. There was money in the bank, money going into retirement accounts and I wasn't getting any younger. So I decided to start with my lifelong dream of a trip to Egypt. It was my 'ta-da' trip: I had no responsibilities to a husband or kids, had a house and career. Time to start living the life--in a totally responsible and fiscally responsible way, of course.
And you all know what happened after that trip to Egypt.....
So now that crisis and the immediate aftermath is over. But there isn't much of a life to return to, because everything that made up my life from 'before sick' isn't there anymore. Yes, I still have the same job, but not any extra money. The house is gone. The car is gone. Almost every friend has either disappeared or just drifted away. There isn't any family to support me or have much involvement with as they have lives that don't include me except on the periphery. So there isn't really anything to go back to. I can't regret working so much, because the financial stability I'd worked so hard for over the years was how I was able to survive. And my work ethic was a major reason that I kept my job and, of course, the benefits. So while I wish on some levels that I'd been able to achieve more balance in my life in the past I can't fault myself for making the decisions I did as those have given me the options most people suffering from a continuing medical crisis don't have. While my planning wasn't perfect, I do congratulate myself on several very good financial decisions made in the past. And the reason those were possible was because I'd worked so much.
So now I find myself in the wretched position of having to create a life for myself at the age of 48. I feel well enough to get out and do some things, but not physically able to do anything very interesting. I don't like to talk to new people about my illness, because that's not who I want to be identified as and it isn't as central to my life as it has been for the last seven (SEVEN!!) years. But those limitations still have a major role in my daily life. And because of my past decisions I don't really have any experience in how to have a life. So what do I do? Where do I go? How do I start?
These are, you realize, rhetorical questions. Because only I can decide what to do next. But this has been leading to me kind of wandering around in circles without direction. And I have a tendency to retreat to the safe cocoon of my house, where there are books and TV and kitties. I seem very outgoing when I'm with people, but it's actually an effort. As an only child raised in a very rural area I've always been used to a lot of alone time. And after the last several years of having to be content with these things it's difficult to put myself out in the world. But I know I have to, it's been put off long enough.
So I am trying. A couple weekends ago I made a bold leap and went on a women's retreat with one of the UU Fellowships closer to me, only having spoken briefly to a couple of the women. It went well and now I need to follow up on some of those connections. There is a 'Time Bank' here in Pville that sounds interesting. I'm trying to initiate social get-togethers more, although my house is still too messy to invite anyone here. This is being hindered by a sudden increase in demands on my schedule--not much specific, just stuff. But it's unbelievably difficult for me, taking constant 'pep talks' to myself. (BTW: just this month I'm now starting working at least half the Fridays. Great for finances, but of course limits my activities as it saps my energy levels, requiring more recuperation time as well.)
Maybe this is what now needs to be followed by anyone interested in my journey, although it lacks the excitement of a life-and-death struggle. But sometimes the hardest battles are the quiet daily ones. That was true during my recovery, and it seems to be true now.
My next door neighbors, a 30ish couple who were very nice to me during the tenant debacle of last fall are quietly getting married tomorrow. I'm going to put together something little for them involving candles and crystals--nothing much, but just to give them something that feels celebratory, which a wedding should be. It's a small thing, this kind of reaching out, but a start.
So thanks for checking in, Laurie
I've been fighting a battle against depression of late, something it took me a while to admit even to myself. I've been on anti-depressants since before the second surgery. I tried to come off them a couple times, but found myself getting angry over everything and feel much better on them. This is not an uncommon phenomena for those who have been on heart bypass machines. Something changes your brain chemistry. Obviously with the number of times I was on it is reasonable that there would be permanent changes. It's something I've accepted.
But this is different, sometimes overwhelming, and took a while to figure out. The extreme difficulty is over, I'm pretty well adjusted to the 'new normal', my pain levels are fairly consistent and predictable. Sneezing still hurts a surprising amount, but I can lift a 20 lb container of kitty litter. I'm functioning at a higher level than was ever predicted. It's time that I go back to living my life. And therein lies the problem: what life?
Most people over the age of 40 looking back would change something in their past life if they had things to do over again. A lot of that comes from experience, or sometimes the choice not taken. The standard comment from older people is 'I wish I hadn't worked so much' or 'I wish I'd taken more chances'. Hindsight is, as they say, 20/20. Life, however, doesn't give any real 'do overs.'
My path was not the typical one for most women in my age group. I didn't date much in high school, then went to a all-girl's college for two years before transferring to Temple. Then I dropped out to become a paramedic and was very careful about dating. Girls in EMS in the '80s were often looking for husbands and I wanted to be taken seriously. As the youngest paramedic in Bucks, and at the time one of the only females not a nurse, I knew people were chomping at the bit to jump on any flaws of mine. So I wasn't giving them the ammunition with my personal life. But, sadly, since all I did throughout my 20's was be a paramedic and work my way through school, I never developed a social network. Then I became a PA and had to go into debt. After the roller coaster of my father's constant job changing and always living in fear of financial collapse this was particularly horrible for me. So, I worked full-time as a PA during the week and a paramedic on the weekends. Partly that was financial, but part of it was that I truly loved being a medic. So, no social development in my 30s. Not only that, but I didn't ever do much interesting stuff, because there wasn't enough time.
After I turned 40, had a great paying job, a beautiful house and my dream car, it was time for a re-evaluation. This is, of course, a very common time for people to do that, with the recognition that they are probably half-way through their lives. And I realized it was time to start living. There was money in the bank, money going into retirement accounts and I wasn't getting any younger. So I decided to start with my lifelong dream of a trip to Egypt. It was my 'ta-da' trip: I had no responsibilities to a husband or kids, had a house and career. Time to start living the life--in a totally responsible and fiscally responsible way, of course.
And you all know what happened after that trip to Egypt.....
So now that crisis and the immediate aftermath is over. But there isn't much of a life to return to, because everything that made up my life from 'before sick' isn't there anymore. Yes, I still have the same job, but not any extra money. The house is gone. The car is gone. Almost every friend has either disappeared or just drifted away. There isn't any family to support me or have much involvement with as they have lives that don't include me except on the periphery. So there isn't really anything to go back to. I can't regret working so much, because the financial stability I'd worked so hard for over the years was how I was able to survive. And my work ethic was a major reason that I kept my job and, of course, the benefits. So while I wish on some levels that I'd been able to achieve more balance in my life in the past I can't fault myself for making the decisions I did as those have given me the options most people suffering from a continuing medical crisis don't have. While my planning wasn't perfect, I do congratulate myself on several very good financial decisions made in the past. And the reason those were possible was because I'd worked so much.
So now I find myself in the wretched position of having to create a life for myself at the age of 48. I feel well enough to get out and do some things, but not physically able to do anything very interesting. I don't like to talk to new people about my illness, because that's not who I want to be identified as and it isn't as central to my life as it has been for the last seven (SEVEN!!) years. But those limitations still have a major role in my daily life. And because of my past decisions I don't really have any experience in how to have a life. So what do I do? Where do I go? How do I start?
These are, you realize, rhetorical questions. Because only I can decide what to do next. But this has been leading to me kind of wandering around in circles without direction. And I have a tendency to retreat to the safe cocoon of my house, where there are books and TV and kitties. I seem very outgoing when I'm with people, but it's actually an effort. As an only child raised in a very rural area I've always been used to a lot of alone time. And after the last several years of having to be content with these things it's difficult to put myself out in the world. But I know I have to, it's been put off long enough.
So I am trying. A couple weekends ago I made a bold leap and went on a women's retreat with one of the UU Fellowships closer to me, only having spoken briefly to a couple of the women. It went well and now I need to follow up on some of those connections. There is a 'Time Bank' here in Pville that sounds interesting. I'm trying to initiate social get-togethers more, although my house is still too messy to invite anyone here. This is being hindered by a sudden increase in demands on my schedule--not much specific, just stuff. But it's unbelievably difficult for me, taking constant 'pep talks' to myself. (BTW: just this month I'm now starting working at least half the Fridays. Great for finances, but of course limits my activities as it saps my energy levels, requiring more recuperation time as well.)
Maybe this is what now needs to be followed by anyone interested in my journey, although it lacks the excitement of a life-and-death struggle. But sometimes the hardest battles are the quiet daily ones. That was true during my recovery, and it seems to be true now.
My next door neighbors, a 30ish couple who were very nice to me during the tenant debacle of last fall are quietly getting married tomorrow. I'm going to put together something little for them involving candles and crystals--nothing much, but just to give them something that feels celebratory, which a wedding should be. It's a small thing, this kind of reaching out, but a start.
So thanks for checking in, Laurie
4 Comments:
At 10:52 PM,
Anonymous said…
You can count me as a reader too, Laurie. And it was just an odd coincidence that I checked tonight!
--Barbara
At 10:39 PM,
Katie said…
Still reading - just busy!
At 4:32 AM,
Anonymous said…
Laurie,
you are great, you are attempting to do what often healthy people are to frieghtend to do. Re-invent yourself.
I look forward to taking the journey w/you. It's another chapter in your book and I continue to look forward to the info/stories.
Deneen
At 9:32 PM,
M. Carol said…
*chuckle*... of course I'm still reading you - though, admittedly, sometimes much later than when you've written...
I know the feeling of wondering if someone is still interested in my journey, even when it's mostly about laundry, and grocery shopping, and catching up on bills, bills, bills... but know that I'm always interested in you... I so wish we lived closer so we could keep in better touch... hopefully we can both work harder at that...
I love you dearly, Laurie... take care of yourself..
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