Transitions

Seriously, who the crap am I?

Transitions are tough.  Even when the new state of being is positive.  Even when the other side is wonderful.  The change can be difficult.

I remember reading that transitions are especially dangerous mental health territory.  Well, I already have mental health issues.  And now I'm in the middle of several transitions.  What a surprise I'm having a tough time.

My youngest child just graduated.  I was so focused on all the pain-in-the-butt things that were going away that I didn't look much further ahead.  And now I find myself on unsolid ground.  Not sure of my footing.  Staring at a bunch of building materials with no idea what I want to create.

My oldest will be twenty-six in a few months.  For over twenty-six years (I'm including my pregnancy), my whole life has been focused on my kids.  Their safety.  Their happiness.  How to help them be good people.  That's a long time in one job.

My youngest will be eighteen in a little over a month.  And as my kids have become adults over the last few years, my role has changed somewhat.  They're in charge of, and in control of, more of their lives.  They're responsible for their choices, whether they act responsibly or not.  In a little over a month, I will not be legally responsible for anyone but myself.

And I'm having some trouble processing that.

The transition has happened slowly, in theory.  One child at a time.  A couple years in between each one.  So why does this moment feel so shocking?

Because she's the last one.

I've been a stay-at-home mom for most of their lives.  Significantly longer than I was single and childless.  When I no longer have minor children at home, but still choose not to work, what am I?

And what do I want to be?

See, here's the thing.  I have all the choices in the world.  My husband has no desire for me to work, for both physical health and mental health reasons.  Although he would support me if I chose to work.  Because he supports me in pretty much anything I want to do.

And that's the key phrase.  What I want to do.  And I have no idea.  What do I want to do?

My health is better than it's been in years, but it's still a day to day thing.  There are still days I can't get out of bed.  Still lots of fatigue and pain.

But there are other days.  Days when I feel pretty good.  Days when I feel powerful.  Days when I believe I can conquer the world.

I'd love to be able to plan out my life.  I'd love to live by schedule.  I'd love to know how I want to spend my days.  To write it all down and live by it.  But with the freedom to set it aside if a friend needs me.  And I'm just not sure how to balance that.

I yearn for structure.  I've always been a planner.  But when my health fell apart eleven years ago, I had to stop committing to things.  I had to stop planning.  Because it just felt so bad when I let others down, when I had to cancel at the last minute.  When I couldn't do that one thing I'd so looked forward to and worked to make happen.

I'm scared to plan again.  I'm not sure why.  And I guess I've planned all along, just on a different level.  I'm not sure why this feels so different.

Yes, I am.  I don't want to waste.  I don't want to use my time badly.  I don't want to just pass through day after day.  I don't want to look in my rearview mirror and see emptiness.  Days of nothing.

Before now, even if I did nothing else all day, I still parented.  I still did something productive, just by keeping people alive and on task in their lives.  When that's not my job anymore, what value do I have?  Especially if my days are spent just doing whatever I want.

I know I'll find my footing.  I always do.  And it will be great.  And I will be happy.  But right now I feel like I'm dancing on quicksand.  In an earthquake.  With a tornado approaching.

And I have to decide whether to hunker down or face the storm.

Are You Ready to Feel Better?

In July of 2005 I got a very bad headache.  A debilitating headache.  It didn't go away for a couple of weeks so I sought medical treatment.  Long story short, I still have it.  Lots of tests and doctors and treatments later.  No answers.  But that's not what this post is about.

I got the headache.  We tried a bunch of stuff, including Lortab.  It was great and made me feel awesome, but it didn't take the headache away.  And it made it difficult for me to function as a mother and an employee.  So I quit taking it and just didn't take anything for several months.  The headache intensity fluctuated.  If it got too bad, I just took a nap.  The pain meds weren't worth the trade off of being completely non-functional and the rebound headaches I'd get.

But in October of 2006 my headache got bad and stayed bad for quite a while.  I went to the doctor and desperately asked if there was something else we could try.  Wasn't there something that could help that wouldn't make me feel like a zombie?

He said it was time to go to the pain clinic.  Again, that's another story for another day.  But there's one element that needs to be told for this post to have meaning.

In addition to the regular medical stuff we would try with the doctors, they wanted me to meet with their psychologist.  I don't remember his name, and he has since retired.  Let's just call him Dr. Old Guy.

So I met with Dr. Old Guy.  He said we would work on bio-feedback and relaxation.  He gave me a cd and told me he wanted me to spend thirty minutes twice a day listening to it and practicing guided relaxation.  I may possibly have laughed in his face at the idea of two thirty minute relaxation sessions a day.  He said the fact that it seemed impossible to me was just a sign that we were on the right track.  Whatever.

So I did it and came back to meet with him again.  And as we walked into his office for our second appointment he asked me a question that has stuck with me ever since.  Haunted me?  Maybe.  He asked, "Are you ready to feel better?"

It kind of stopped me in my tracks.

Now it could very well have been one of those things that really doesn't mean anything.  It could have just been his way of saying, "Let's get started."

But I pondered it.  I analyzed it.  I agonized over it.

Was there something I was gaining from having this headache that made me resistant to healing and was that why I wasn't getting better?

At the time it seemed ridiculous.  What good was there in a headache?  It had caused so much stress in my life.  It had disrupted so many of my plans.  It would eventually be the reason I had to quit my job.  How on earth could anyone think I was choosing this?  Was I choosing it?

The reason any of this matters all these years later is because of my word for the year.  I chose HEAL as my word for 2015.  And I still hear this question in my head.  "Are you ready to feel better?"

And I still don't know the answer.