One Year
Posted on by PattyRan
2We are rounding out a year of the Pandemic.
Tell me how you are doing. I’ll start. It’s been a rollercoaster. I’ve learned many things about myself and some of it with much resistance. I remember hugs, but have only had a few in the past 12 months. Those have been deeper, tighter, and longer than in the past. I’ve sat alone and watched my anxiety, and ADHD play out in front of me like a stage performance. I’ve laughed harder than I usually do and I’ve cried harder too. When there’s no where to go and no one to see, the redness and swelling of your eyes doesn’t have to be disguised or covered up. I’ve deepened relationships-rekindled some and forged new ones, all with the click of a key on a computer. I’ve slowed down. A TON.
My dogs get more walks. I hear the birds. I watch clouds. I traveled across the country during election week, and witnessed the extreme diversity of our country. I found most people willing to look me in the eyes and smile but for brief moments as we passed at rest stop. I stopped compulsively cleaning. Yeah, that was my jam. Always a perfectly spotless house. I’ve shopped more online than ever. It’s too easy not to. I should stop.
I learned that phone calls are a thing! Voices are gold. Walking with a masked friend while maintaining distance is a rare and luxuriously intimate experience. I learned that I prefer my own cooking. I spent a lifetime going out with friends and family, but it wasn’t the restaurant food or the bar drinks that I craved-it was the company.
I lost my high level of athletic fitness after a severe bout with Covid. This has been devastating to me as a person, an athlete, and a coach. Ten months later, and I still struggle with endurance or intensity. Depression slithered in. I gained weight. I drank more. I started having panic attacks again. I told myself it was ok. I stopped sleeping. I almost stopped caring. My inner badass, competitor self called a halt to that nonsense though and I got back on a new track. I’m been working out regularly again since November, and eating clean and healthy. My workouts are shorter and with less intensity as BC (before Covid) but they are consistent. Oh, yeah, and I take more rest days.
I’m doing dry January. Guess what? I’m sleeping again!
I’ve taken online classes in subjects I’d never otherwise allowed the time to pursue. Irish step dancing! Spiritual classes. I played around with a few online dating sites just for fun. Good Lord that’s quite the wormhole. I got certified to teach Gravity Yoga. This was a personal journey to heal my broken spine. It’s working more than I could have dreamed. Now I’m conducting Zoom classes for individuals and groups. WHO KNEW?
I bought some beautiful paint by number kits and started one 2 months ago. It triggered all my “perfectionistic” obsessions and it sits half done on my dining room table. If I never finish it, that’s ok. I’ve watched more TV this year than all the past 40 years of my life. Most of it isn’t memorable and I forgot the names of the shows and movies I watched. I have all but stopped watching the news this month. I can’t personally change anything happening in the world today, except for in my own little corner, so why ingest all that negative energy?
I have a new mantra, thanks to Russel Wilson, courtesy of his brother, Harry: “I am made for this.” And thanks to Trevor Moawad, I’m working on keeping my mind neutral. When things are negative, and you can’t go to the positive, at least keep your mind neutral. I love that one.
I’m almost ready to donate most of my clothes. I dragged and shipped boxes of clothes, shoes, and boots across 3400 miles, just to set up a closet and take up space. Sure, some day I’ll wear them again, but the variety holds no allure to me now. Except for my running shoes. I can never have enough of those, don’t-cha know.
I don’t bother with makeup anymore. Once in a while, but not every day. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll slather that on and don a glamorous dress and spike heels to celebrate the end of this nightmare pronto! I haven’t given up my love for all things sparkly that much.
Speaking of the end of this nightmare, I’m longing for that day. We will emerge different, but more aware. I believe we will have changed, but most of us will be more authentic. I hope. When we can safely discover the new normal, the new “free from the virus” normal, please don’t be shocked when I grab hold of you, squeeze you tightly, bury my head in your chest and bawl my eyes out. I love you all.
Until then…
She Speaks on Her Birthday
Posting a message of vulnerability on my 61st birthday. Life has flown by. The muscles are smaller and the wrinkles are deeper, but I am blessed. We all have our own unique journey and our bodies tell our stories. I’ve had challenges that have dragged me through the bowels of Hell, and still consume me, but I have life, family, and a few good genes that keep me going. I’ve lived with the old motto: “Never let them see you sweat.” (except when I’m racing in competition, that is)
I’d love to say that I don’t bruise easily, but I do. I take the high road when I can. I have a bit too much empathy at times and not enough at others. I start every day in gratitude, and smile at strangers. I’m fiercely protective of my family, friends, and clients. I never give up.
Some random facts. I break electronics. Computers hate me. I save clothes for years. I collect hot sauces. I can pick up dog poop all day long, but I threw away my babies clothes when I potty trained them, because I couldn’t deal. I might have a blanket hoarding problem. I once owned 5 dining sets and only had one dining room. At the start of every live stage performance, when the orchestra strikes the first cord, I cry. I was beaten up by girls when I was a child. I was raped by a man when I was an adult. I say “fuck” a lot. For a short time in college, I smoked 3 packs of cigarettes a day. I saved my best friend from drowning in 8th grade. I love Hello Kitty. I hate playing cards. I’ve never eaten an oyster. I have panic attacks. Babies are my favorite thing in the world.
I can’t say that I agree with the number 61. I feel 40. I think there’s a math mistake on the calendar. I have a lifetime ahead of me and wonder when I will feel old. Perhaps never? Oh there are days, but they don’t last. I won’t let them. I’ve endured two serious head on collisions, nearly severed my arm in one, and split my head open in the other, resulting in a three day coma. The physical damage to my spine is severe. My Chiropractor once told me he preferred I wear a neck collar if I ever go in the ocean. Right. Nope.
My advice? Wake up every day excited about the possibilities. Find beauty everywhere. Tell your family you love them often. Accept help. Kiss a dog. Stretch. Walk, run, jump, swim! Get out in nature as often as possible. Listen to water flowing. Meditate. Floss. And For Fuck’s sake, LAUGH A LOT. (Especially at yourself)
This passage showed up on my Facebook feed today. So fitting.
Silver~ “How many years of beauty do I have left? she asks me. How many more do you want? Here. Here is 34. Here is 50. When you are 80 years old and your beauty rises in ways your cells cannot even imagine now and your wild bones grow luminous and ripe, having carried the weight of a passionate life. When your hair is aflame with winter and you have decades of learning and leaving and loving sewn into the corners of your eyes and your children come home to find their own history in your face. When you know what it feels like to fail ferociously and have gained the capacity to rise and rise and rise again. When you can make your tea on a quiet and ridiculously lonely afternoon and still have a song in your heart Queen owl wings beating beneath the cotton of your sweater. Because your beauty began there beneath the sweater and the skin, remember? This is when I will take you into my arms and coo YOU BRAVE AND GLORIOUS THING you’ve come so far. I see you. Your beauty is breathtaking.” ~ Jeannette Encinias
Posted in Anxiety disorders, Health, Inspirational | Tagged birthday, growing older, old age, women | Leave a reply
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