Watching my parents age is excruciating. They are kind and lovely people and I want them to defy aging. I want to choose a moment in time and freeze them, exactly like they were, at their best – healthy, full of energy, and happy… probably in the early 1990s and keep them exactly like that forever. I want them to be whole and perfect and not to feel any pain–much the same as I feel about my children. My mother has had Multiple Sclerosis since she was in high school. She’s fought it bravely her whole life and has been happy and very healthy. She has used a cane for most of my life and is now using a walker. When I’m with her, I cannot accept the changes that are happening to her. I want her to fight harder and to defy the aging that is happening to her. I don’t know if she can fight hard enough–start physical therapy again, do exercises, build strength, and stay out of the wheelchair for a couple more years. I know she’s struggling to accept the changes that are happening to her. It is the proverbial “bad thing” that has been looming over her for my entire life: The Chair. Immovability. It is the thing to fight against and I am watching her give up. I am pushing her to fight, fight, fight. Maybe what I need to be doing is telling her it’s okay. Some of the agony is in me not wanting to say the wrong thing and I don’t want to contribute to her giving up. Years ago when I trained to be a hospice volunteer, they taught us to be willing to just talk about death. So many people in our patients’ lives wanted them to get better and sometimes they needed someone to just be with them to talk about dying and what they were experiencing. I wonder if this is the same for my mom–that she is facing losing her ability to walk and...
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I have fallen off the yoga wagon this last couple of months. After almost daily yoga and a 30 day challenge in May, I went to some yoga in June and very little in July. I am nursing a shoulder injury that aches fairly often and it has given me the excuse I needed to not practice yoga regularly. This morning I looked at the clock at 6am and realized if I hurried a little, I could make it to yoga. Ironically, it was the pain in my shoulder that woke me up about 5am. I went to a Moksha class and decided I would try not doing the postures that might inflame my shoulder. I had a fabulous work-out and I realize how much I have been missing the breathing at yoga. It keeps me so aware of my breath all day. I really liked when I was doing daily yoga and I never had to think about whether I was doing enough exercise. It was handled. I have been missing that. I know historically I am not good at maintaining an exercise program so I need strong boundaries or rules. I was just thinking about what worked today that hasn’t worked other days. I realized it takes a certain amount of bravery for me to do physical exercise. It doesn’t always feel good to my body. It is a slightly unpleasant sensation when I am doing it but afterward I feel fantastic. It reminds me of one of the early days after Mel’s transition where he told me one of the big differences after testosterone is that exercise FEELS GOOD. I remember being curious about that at the time and today made me think of it again. That takes me to bravery. So, I have always found that I am most compliant with a first-thing-in-the-morning exercise class. If the day gets later, I have gathered more and more data and reasons why I shouldn’t go to work out. I let myself off...
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I took a course from a guy named Larry Byrum in Boulder, Colorado years ago. He teaches classes on relationships and how to find the perfect partner at the Higher Alignment Center. His work is quite interesting and the system he uses has served me well. One of the aspects he talked about was “pace.” Larry used a scale of 1 to 100 to describe pace. I took courses there over 10 years ago, so apologies if I misrepresent his current teachings. He said that for a romantic relationship to work, one needs to be within 20 points of their partner on the “pace” scale. After 20, he said he didn’t recommend it. In our society people make more money if they are faster paced. Those who are slower paced make less money and are sometimes perceived as “lazy” by people who go through life at a faster pace. We have a lot of judgment about pace in our society. Those who are slower paced may wonder if they “should” be doing more. This kind of “should” pops into my work with clients fairly regularly. It is my perspective that there are no “shoulds”–simply lives full of choices, victories and gratitude. I am fairly sure Mel and I are about 20 points apart. When Mel and I are alone together we are fine. We vacation well. Sometimes he gets up early and goes off to do things while I am still hanging out. We are fairly active on vacation so it suits both of us, then I come home tired and rest. Throwing in all the kid stuff can be challenging for me. I am the slowest paced person in my family although Xander may be similar to me in his pacing. The myriad of kids’ activities leaves me exhausted by the end of the school year. Mel does more driving in the evening than I do but the constant comings and goings drain me. I give myself permission to say no to “one more...
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I can tell I am aging from the way my brain works. It isn’t as flexible as it once was. I used to find it much easier to go with the flow…to let things happen and to make it all work. Now, I am more attached to my schedule, to having things the way I want them. I like having a plan. I don’t really want to be flexible. I want things my way. I see the change and I imagine it means I am aging, but I don’t really care. I like the more planned version of my former self. I love the way I can orchestrate my life to be about how I want it to be. This new-found desire to plan shows me all the places where I don’t have the time to plan, too. Like when we invited people over for drinks and Mel and I were both too busy to go and put the cushions out on the patio furniture and to make it all “nice” before they came. I realized that I don’t like the stress of entertaining in a half-done sort of way. But, with 3 kids, two dogs, two acres, full-time (ish) work and a myriad of friends and family, we don’t have the luxury of a well-organized life so I am still flying by the seat of my pants even though I desire a carefully planned life. I sometimes dream of retirement as if it is a kind of time porn—endless time to move slow, make decisions, talk over coffee, read the paper and feel in control. Instead I feel like a puppy tied to the back of a station wagon loping along behind trying to keep up with a life that pulls me along with a variety of the kid’s activities, work meetings, and social engagements. I keep up most of the time. Every now and then, I check myself. I look around at the chaos and think to myself, “this is as good...
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