Bleh…

I’m sick and when I am sick I am impatient.  I don’t want to wait to get well.  I don’t want to do the things that I need to do to get well–namely rest and take medicine.  I am a terrible, awful sick person.

Today has been a day of constantly waiting to do nothing.  Trying to force myself to rest, get better, calm down, be still.  Can’t really force it, can’t really control it.  And therein lies my problem.

How does one trust, have faith and give up on the illusion that is “control?”

*shrugs*

The simple pleasure of gnawing off a leg….

Grades posted, check.  Didn’t get into Charleston Fashion week, check.  Midlife crisis, check.

Ever have that feeling that you know you are supposed to be doing something, but you’ve forgotten what it is?  That’s how I’m feeling lately…only about my entire life, not just one moment of it.

David and I talked about it last night.  Only, I don’t feel like I’m really saying anything substantial.  Blah, blah, not feeling like I’m doing what I’m supposed to, blah, blah, not happy, blah, blah, want to do something meaningful, blah, blah, BLAH.

Is this just a function of my age?  Menopause?  Spiritual funk?  Or is it the culmination of a life of mostly doing what pleases others and not pleasing myself?

Just trying to figure it out wears me out, so David suggested to just “not try to figure it out”—now that, folks, is like telling Sherlock Holmes not to try to solve a mystery.  But I’m trying.

Sitting down, having a cup of ginger tea and eating a little gingerbread boy, appendage by appendage.

October, the month of pumpkins, weddings, 90th birthdays and love…

Well, as you can see I have not posted a thing since September 1—this is how busy life can get.  We have been struggling though all kinds of briars here at the patch of house we call home.  Mostly, Z has been struggling—with unidentifiable and really persistent pain.  We’ve been to doctors, physical therapists and now a chiropractor and a massage therapist.  Thank goodness the chiropractor seems to be doing some good and her pain has gotten much better.  School and band and soccer conditioning and artists talks and film club and film festivals and on and on and on and on…….

I’m entering Charleston Fashion Week……yep, trying to put it out there—a tribute to Mr. L whose encouragement and mentorship were integral to me being able to see myself as a competent artist and not just someone who could pull something out of my you know what and keep everyone fooled for one more day.  I’m using fabrics he gave me and trying to embody some of his personality and spirit into the clothes and techniques….a kind of a nostalgic circus that never was coupled with inspiration from Frida Kahlo, the color palette and spirit of Amalie, and my own love of texture and showing the hand of the maker.

Here are some pics:

jacket and scarf

Dress

I’m pretty happy with them and I’ve done a lot of sketching to try to capture the essence of what I feel would have pleased Mr. L to see.  He was quite a clothes horse himself, favoring lots of color and bold line…..I miss him.

I am grateful to have such supportive family and friends around me encouraging and supporting this endeavor.  Hopefully, come March, I will be showing a collection…that will be some exciting stuff.

I’m looking very forward to the holidays this year…a bit bummed that our closest friends won’t be able to spend Thanksgiving with us, but we plan to visit them around the new year, so all will be fine.  Looking to pare down the holidays this year and focus more on time together and less on presents and STUFF.  My days of stuff are drawing to a close, I hope—I want to clear more space for experiences and interactions in my life.  I don’t want to spend all of my time trying to organize and contain.

M, who was the flower girl at our wedding almost 20 years ago got married last weekend.  It was a lovely wedding and reception.  She asked me to do her makeup and I did….she was a radiant bride and she and her groom both had the Cheshire cat smiles that only two very happy, very in love folks can wear.  I hope David and I still have those smiles.  I think we do.

My grandmother turned 90 on the same day that M got married.  My mom was going to have a party for her, but, alas she would not have remembered it at all, so decided against it…..although, I would argue that Nanny lives in the moment all of the time because that’s all she’s got and she would have had fun at the party.  She and my parents are in Dahlonega at Gold Rush Days this weekend.  We went out to eat at a lovely Italian restaurant there, Piazza, and I wrote “Happy 90th Birthday” on the paper table cloth that they use (they give you crayons to pass the time)—she kept marveling over the notion that she could be 90 years old.  She is certainly the oldest person I have ever known and is still so physically fit and agile—she is happy most of the time, but remembers very little in the recent past….although today she recalled coming to my house and that David was my husband, which is an improvement.

My wonderful husband is asleep on the couch as we await a text from the girls saying they are back from their away game tonight.  Sleep will not come for me until I pick them up—–oh well.  I leave you with this image:

Snoozer

And this just in…..

Here I am at the almost end of my first week of classes.  I am always excited at the beginning of the school year, but this year especially seems promising…I’m teaching a creativity class in addition to my fashion classes….and so far, so good.  I have 5 new majors–I did have six, but one withdrew because she already has a line debuting this spring…whatev.  Anyway, I’ve felt really good, had a really good if exhausting week and then……

BOOM!

Atrial fib right before starting class at 8am this morning.  No warning, it just started.  So, I’m presenting a Powerpoint on the history of children’s wear, no biggie, and I do it while I’m a-fibbing.
Now if you have never had the pleasure of experiencing a-fib, let me say, it is not really what I would call pleasant.  Although I am assured by my cardiologist, his nurse and every other health care professional I have come in contact with that my ability to know the exact onset of my a-fib is unusual, I can’t see how ANYONE could not know if it feels like it feels to me.  First, I feel like I have a giant lump in my throat, like I can’t catch my breath.  And sometimes that passes, because I feel this on average at least once a day,  and I dodge the bullet.  But other times, like this morning,   when the atrial fib decides to take a seat and stay awhile, it feels like my whole body is trembling.  I feel jumpy and shaky all over–like I am vibrating.  And apparently, in fact, that is what the atrium of my heart is doing when this happens…quivering instead of beating properly.

So I called the doctor’s office and they ask:  have you been taking your meds?  Yes.  Is your heart racing? No.  Well, if it starts racing take another half of one of your pills and call us if it’s not right by tomorrow.  OK.  And if you have any chest pains or shortness of breath, go to the ER.  OK.

So I teach the rest of my class, run home for the meds (which I don’t carry with me, but I guess I will now…) go to my therapy appointment and then back to school to eat my lunch and attend a department meeting.—-and then to my other class in the afternoon.

Sometime during that class, I converted.  I began to feel less shaky and more normal.  I am tired…the afib does that since it is like you’ve been running a race.  But glad that I won’t have to be shocked back to rhythm.  Not my idea of a fun Labor Day weekend.

In other developments, I’ve lost some weight.  Pretty happy about that and people notice so that is nice.  I finished my lovely Alabama Chanin style skirt and should post pics.  My daughters had a good day at school and are looking forward to their first marching band show of the season tomorrow night.

And my husband adores me.  He told me tonight, in exactly those words–”I adore you”  That, my friends, makes everything OK.

Devo(lution)

FIVE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNIN’
I’M UP BEFORE THE SUN
WHEN MY WORK DAY IS OVER
I’M TOO TIRED FOR HAVIN’ FUN

First day of work for the semester today…really, contrary to the lyrics above, it was not a bad day.  I’m looking forward to the semester and most of what it will hold.  What I don’t look forward to is the drama that inevitably happens…we shall see…

I read a great article (thanks to my friend Susan C.) in the Sunday Review/NY Times–you can find the article here–about how our culture has ceased, in the writer’s opinion, to value ideas and by extension, to think.  I certainly concur that thinking is in short supply.  I bet that you think (good that you still can) I am talking about my students here, but I’m not only calling them on the carpet for their mindlessness, although sometimes they are that.  No, I’m afraid the lack of thinking is everywhere I turn–perhaps most conspicuous on Fox News which I am forced to hear whenever I visit my cardiologist’s office (I’m surprised that I don’t have high blood pressure every time I get called back to a room!)  There is no discourse, only lots of yelling and name-calling.  (Hilarious piece in September’s Vanity Fair about this entitled GASBAGGERY MADE SIMPLE–pg 292)

I’ve been noticing this for a while pretty much everywhere I go…people are cynical, they don’t really want to discuss anything of substance and are full of assumptions.  Their reality is what is REAL and anyone whose own reality differs is WRONG.  It is depressing to me, actually, because usually these people want you to agree with them.  When you don’t, even if you don’t dispute their reality but you don’t wholeheartedly join into agreement, they get mad.  It is uncomfortable, discourse.  I guess it is like the way it is easier to just always believe that the worst is going to happen and when it doesn’t you are pleasantly surprised, but sure that the goodness won’t last.

Now I’m rambling.  Oh well, what else is new?  Are we as a society devolving into a bunch of self-involved ninnies who can’t discuss our way out of a paper bag?  I think the writer is onto something–I’m gonna pay more attention and make sure my knuckles don’t start dragging the floor.

Ok, ya’ll, really?

In the file for posterity, I submit the following:

In the last 24 hours, my best friend’s daughter has come down with a case of head lice, my car jettisoned its serpentine belt and I have gone into atrial fib AGAIN….not a nice combination, I can assure you!

Kids and home have been treated with appropriate remedies, my car is in the shop and I am off to the doctor this afternoon.  Come on, universe!  Give us some good stuff too!!!

Tow me

This is, so far, the highlight of my day…yes that’s my car on the tow truck bed. Could be worse, I know, but DANG!

I love a pretty package

Look what arrived today from Drygoods Design Online—

with a Pixie stix no less!

• 

Learning to listen

Know how everyone has the voices in their heads?  Yes, you know what I mean…not the “let’s go carve up some rich people” type of voices—no I mean the ones that EVERYONE has.  The voice that tells you you are not good enough, or smart enough, or rich enough (well, at least you don’t have to worry about being carved up) or beautiful enough or WHATEVER enough?  Yep, thought that might ring a bell.  That voice is loud and powerful.  It can stop you in your tracks, cause you to fell bad and generally wreck a perfectly good day.  Some people call it the ego or the inner critic.

Don’t listen to that one.  It lies.

Instead, there is another voice.  It is not as loud and obnoxious.  In fact, it is quiet and calm and you have to really listen to hear it.  Maybe get still for a few minutes and breathe before this smaller voice can be heard through the din of the  “not enough” voice.

This other voice is telling the truth.  The other voice will tell you that you are enough.  That you can follow your heart’s desire and not worry about what other people might say.  That it is OK for you to take some time to be alone, to be with friends, to sit and do absolutely nothing for a while or to immerse yourself in a whirlwind of activity.  That whatever you need–truly need to nurture your spirit, your body, your self–you may have it.  Without guilt, without struggle, without the drama that the loud voice is telling you will ensue if you DARE listen to the quiet voice.

It has taken a long time for me to even acknowledge this small voice of truth, much less to listen to it on a regular basis.  Some people call this the voice of God, the divine that lives inside us all–the place of inner knowing, our intuition, the true self, listening to your heart.  I know that when I listen to this voice, my day goes much better.  I feel more relaxed in my own skin.  I feel more at ease with the world.  I feel safer and less anxious.

It is not always easy to find the stillness I need to listen, though.  I’m still trying to find ways to pause throughout my day and check in.  (Actually, I’m trying to find ways to make my days less hectic in the first place so that I don’t have to “check in” but can simply be aware of the stillness all the time—but that is the fodder for a different post)  The point is, I’m learning to listen.  And listening to learn.

Curveballs and my corazón

One day out of the hospital and up to TN we go!  I am thoroughly grateful for the fact that I was able to travel so quickly after my little visit to the cardiac unit.  What happened?????  Beats me.  One minute I am sitting at the computer, perusing statuses on Facebook, waiting for my colleagues to arrive so that we can all ride together to another colleague’s house for a get-together—-and the next my heart is beating out of whack—-a little something the docs like to call “atrial fibrillation”—and everything changes.

So now I am NOT off to the colleague’s house for the pool party, I am NOT driving, I am NOT sure what is going to happen.  Of course, my cardiologist is on vacay.  SOOOOO, I get to talk to the triage nurse at the office who confers with another of the doctors who tells me to take some meds and wait.  And I do.  And I lie down—all day.  At 4ish pm, I call the doc’s office again.  Take some more meds and if you aren’t “right” by 6pm, go to the ER.

So I do—David drives me and I get an EKG–that confirms the AFIB.  Then I get an x-ray of my chest.  Then I get put back into an ER holding pen (you know, the cloth curtained cubicles???)  All told, it takes about 4 hours to get me put on heparin, have the doctors do blood work to confirm that my cardiac enzymes are OK and to get me admitted to see if I’m going to convert to a normal sinus rhythm on my own or if they are going to have to electrify me—the actual procedure is called “cardioversion”–but basically it is getting the shocky thing to make your heart behave.

Long story (already) short—this time I had to have the cardioversion.   Every other time (3 others, total) that I have had the AFIB, I’ve always converted on my own.  This time, they zapped me.  It was fine.  I am fine, but tired.

The worst part of this whole thing is the worry and consternation that it causes those who love me.  I really hate being a worry and a bother.  I really don’t like to see my daughters frightened because they think I’m going to die.  I hate disrupting the plans.  I don’t like being in the hospital (although I must say for the record that I received exceptionally great care this time….wonderful nurses and technicians, all–even a cardiologist with a sense of humor.)

I’m finding, however, the more I pay attention, the more curveballs are everywhere and in fact, mostly there is change and uncertainty and the need for flexibility.  There is also so much to be thankful and grateful for, perhaps even the unknown lurking around each corner.  The clouds in the sky are always changing, but they remain as beautiful as ever in their mutations.   I watch my daughters grow up everyday and see how lovely they are and how different they are from what they were–sometimes from hour to hour!

I want to be more open to these unexpected occurrences, to learn what they have to teach me.  Not to get all Ram Dass, but I’m trying to “be here now”–not think so much about all the mistakes I’ve made, all the things that could have been—and not too much about what the future will hold and how I’m going to get there.  Nope.  Just trying to live the best I can right now and trust that everything that is happening is what is supposed to be.

I’m not sure what the AFIB is teaching me.  Maybe not to be so scared of things that happen to the body.  Maybe to trust more—because, let me tell you, you gotta trust when someone is going to apply some electricity to your heart!  Maybe it is just to keep me from counting on the things of the world that are really not that important when you come right down to it.

I’m happy to be here.  Glad my heart is back to its boring old sinus rhythm.  Blessed to be loved by so many people.  And hopeful that the lessons that are being offered to me by all the curveballs I get thrown are sinking in the way they are supposed to!