Since we met two years ago, I have enjoyed the company of J, who is smart and fun. For ten months, J and I have shared living quarters. For the last 2-1/2 weeks, she has been out of town. Even on vacation, she is ridiculously productive. If there is something called anti-ADD, she has it.
For the first several days of J's absence, I felt free to pursue my own interests without with or around her concerns. As time passed, I missed her presence. I also noticed that my productivity level at home plummeted. Although my intentions were good and the tasks were things I could do on my own, I found myself unable to concentrate. Craving company, I turned to social media, leaving most of my tasks yet undone.
Exasperated, I called friend B who lives nearby. I asked if she could just sit with me while I went through paperwork. She agreed, adding that she would even be willing to file! With B's help, I put the most urgent and emotionally laden papers into order. She offered that she would return in the New Year, bringing colored files to replace the manila ones I have been using. She stayed a bit longer to chat while I managed other tasks on my own. She asked if I needed her help with the dishes. I laughed and said no, I'd be okay with those.
As it happens, B is part of a small group of us who continue to meet weekly for coffee before work (months after I started the group as a way to distract myself from the feeling of dread for too many difficult tasks in the day). Along with other friends, I was invited to the home of B and her spouse for Thanksgiving dinner. I had a wonderful time eating, laughing, and enjoying their company. When I mentioned to B that I needed more "community" in my life, she said, "They're called friends."
Thanksgiving is my favorite of holidays. A day set aside specifically for gratitude, along with food, family, and friends is meaningful and wonderful. By telephone I spoke with family and friends who live in other towns and states to wish them a happy day of thanks and to express my gratitude for them in my life.
Friday again brought meager attempts at "getting stuff done." Yay, J arrived home Friday night! I talked with her about this post, which by then, was partially written. She reflected on past feelings of self judgment for her dislike of being alone. And I stated the obvious. Human beings are social creatures; we need one another.
Saturday afternoon, while J worked, I met with B and a few others for coffee and a discussion around having closer, more connected relationships with neighbors and friends. Ironic because we drove an hour to get there! Great discussion and some baby steps made.
It's late Sunday morning, and I still have plenty of tasks before me. But J is here, B and I were on the phone briefly this morning, and one of the members from Saturday's discussion is joining me for more discussion and a walk of my dog this coming week.
As I sit here, watching with guilt as J cleans the kitchen from top to bottom, I'm left with a few thoughts. Like most things in life, community is fluid. Sometimes we feel that we have too much and sometimes too little. At some point, being alone becomes overwhelming because I become aware of all that needs to be done without the ability to manage it all. I have many gifts which become only more meaningful when I notice, honor, and appreciate them. Frustrations and disappointments are temporary conditions that I can observe, experience, or change.
My therapist suggested art!
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Friday, November 9, 2012
Frances and Frannie
It can be amazing to look at my life in hindsight.
For as long as I can remember, anxiety has been in my life. Aware that anxiety is an uncommon response to stress, I assumed that anxiety "happened" to me under certain circumstances. In response, I developed coping mechanisms that "protected" me from facing certain fears. Not surprisingly, the fears and anxiety increased over time. Clearly, something needed changing.
When my partner D was diagnosed in January 2008 with Acute Leukemia (fast-growing blood cancer), one of my first thoughts was, "It's not about me this time." Cancer clearly is more serious than any trouble I faced or feared facing, and I rose to the occasion. During her 20 months of treatment, anxiety came about for me on only two occasions.
As D's family caregiver, I could not be in her presence if I developed something as simple as the common cold; her diminished immune system couldn't manage it. When my nose began to drip or my throat began to itch, I suffered great fear that I had been a carrier of a cold. I head to the nearest medical provider, who relieved my guilt by assuring me that I had an allergy, which is not contagious.
Since D's medical care was enormously expensive, the insurance company was persistently cruel in their attempts to avoid payment. This meant a legal conflict with vast amounts of documentation and the hope that we would prevail. My anxiety level skyrocketed. Despite knowingly facing the end of her life, D led the charge to secure the financial future of her heirs, of which I am one.
When I began to face some challenges that I had been avoiding for the two years since D's death, anxiety re-appeared, undermining the courage and wisdom that I had gained as her caregiver and then as her widow. For nine months, I met with my therapist, spoke with loving family and friends, read from Pema Chodron and other helpful books, and faced the challenge one day at a time. Despite my pride and satisfaction in facing fears and making progress toward practical goals, the anxiety did not lift and I found myself in a downward spiral. Which led me to hypnosis, as described in my post three weeks ago on October 21, 2012.
Since then, I have become more trustful of the world and myself. To increase my self confidence (not to be confused with arrogance), I remind myself that I must care for myself. Hence I must rely upon both Frances and Frannie within me. Frances is "the strong one;" Frannie is more "sensitive."
For many years, Frances and Frannie offered their strengths and vulnerabilities to loved ones, but they neglected one another. Now I am aware that I am at my best when Frances and Frannie cooperate. Frances requires peace - calm, trust, and appreciation. Frannie requires nurturing - time, attention, adventure, food, exercise, meditation, and sleep. Now Frances encourages and attends to Frannie who, when heard and valued, then supports Frances. Together they create structure, patience, resolve, passion, persistence, and joy.
Frances and Frannie - two names for different parts of me. Together they are me!
For as long as I can remember, anxiety has been in my life. Aware that anxiety is an uncommon response to stress, I assumed that anxiety "happened" to me under certain circumstances. In response, I developed coping mechanisms that "protected" me from facing certain fears. Not surprisingly, the fears and anxiety increased over time. Clearly, something needed changing.
When my partner D was diagnosed in January 2008 with Acute Leukemia (fast-growing blood cancer), one of my first thoughts was, "It's not about me this time." Cancer clearly is more serious than any trouble I faced or feared facing, and I rose to the occasion. During her 20 months of treatment, anxiety came about for me on only two occasions.
As D's family caregiver, I could not be in her presence if I developed something as simple as the common cold; her diminished immune system couldn't manage it. When my nose began to drip or my throat began to itch, I suffered great fear that I had been a carrier of a cold. I head to the nearest medical provider, who relieved my guilt by assuring me that I had an allergy, which is not contagious.
Since D's medical care was enormously expensive, the insurance company was persistently cruel in their attempts to avoid payment. This meant a legal conflict with vast amounts of documentation and the hope that we would prevail. My anxiety level skyrocketed. Despite knowingly facing the end of her life, D led the charge to secure the financial future of her heirs, of which I am one.
When I began to face some challenges that I had been avoiding for the two years since D's death, anxiety re-appeared, undermining the courage and wisdom that I had gained as her caregiver and then as her widow. For nine months, I met with my therapist, spoke with loving family and friends, read from Pema Chodron and other helpful books, and faced the challenge one day at a time. Despite my pride and satisfaction in facing fears and making progress toward practical goals, the anxiety did not lift and I found myself in a downward spiral. Which led me to hypnosis, as described in my post three weeks ago on October 21, 2012.
Since then, I have become more trustful of the world and myself. To increase my self confidence (not to be confused with arrogance), I remind myself that I must care for myself. Hence I must rely upon both Frances and Frannie within me. Frances is "the strong one;" Frannie is more "sensitive."
For many years, Frances and Frannie offered their strengths and vulnerabilities to loved ones, but they neglected one another. Now I am aware that I am at my best when Frances and Frannie cooperate. Frances requires peace - calm, trust, and appreciation. Frannie requires nurturing - time, attention, adventure, food, exercise, meditation, and sleep. Now Frances encourages and attends to Frannie who, when heard and valued, then supports Frances. Together they create structure, patience, resolve, passion, persistence, and joy.
Frances and Frannie - two names for different parts of me. Together they are me!
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