UGH

This is not what I’d like it to be. I have something I want to post, it’s so close to being “there”…. Not perfectionist there, I’m working on letting go of that. But together enough that I feel pretty decent about it being out there in the virtual universe.

Today itself is also not what I’d like it to be. It started out well enough, even with very few hours sleep. In fact, I’d say “hours” was pushing it. Minnie and I made it out to the garden at 6am, watered all the green and growing things. Even though she looks at me the same ways she always does when I leave her, as if I’m abandoning her forever, Minnie settles into the grass outside the fence that encloses our garden oasis. I think she likes the time outside, domesticated creature of nature she is. I spent about 3 1/2 hours down there yesterday. Much like jumping in the ocean does for me, walking around bare soled with dirt creased nails, plunging my hands into the cool and giving earth hits my reset button.

Last night I spent some time feeling very filled-up. Content. Another word for it is grateful. I had everything I needed; much more than that, really. The wind had followed me home from the garden and every window in my apartment was open to receive it. At the tail end of my day I sat on my porch (it might be a deck. I’m on the second floor…) the summer night a balm to anything that once ailed me. I took special note of how I felt on the inside, knowing as intimately as I do, that this too will pass.

I’m not sure when it hit me this morning, but at some point after hours of feeing more than fine and looking forward to a beach day with my best friend, I just had to lie down. This is something that’s more than a, “wouldn’t it feel good to just take a rest” sort of feeling. Before you ask, I am hydrating like a motherfucker. For those who haven’t read many of my old posts, you will be shocked now. But when I first started writing this blog I did swear like… well, the word I just said. I might have taken one of them out here and there, as I re-edited posts. And when time moved on I found myself swearing less. I know some people don’t give a shit. But for others it can be off-putting. I want to do as much as I can not to alienate people here. I probably won’t be able to let go of cursing though, not entirely. If you are reading this and you’re part of the swing dancing community in Portland, Maine, you know my MO for dancing and when I make a mistake.

Back to the present. So I took my yoga mat on my porch/deck (maybe it’s a patio?) and just laid down. First it was on my back with my feet wider than my hips, knees resting against each other. My arms started by my side but then I moved them overhead. But I found that after a few minutes what I really wanted was to be on my belly. In yoga this is called Crocodile Pose. My feet are at least as wide as the mat, heels either rolled in toward the mid-line or away (I usually try both); my arms are bent at the elbows and slightly overhead. Or sometimes I just take up as much space as possible with my arms, whatever that looks like. It’s a direct antithesis of how I usually live my life (I probably didn’t use that word right). Most, or many, people like to bend their arms and rest their forehead over their stacked hands. I have a large nose and this doesn’t quite work for me. For me, this pose is how I feel the most intimately connected to earth or, if you will, a sense of grounding. Even feeling my breath as it interacts with the surface below my, belly expanding, ground providing a fixed stopping point, belly contracting. It also feels like the ultimate pose of surrendering. Surrendering is what I need a big dose of right now.

Letting go into something that can actually hold what I’m releasing.

The wind was blowing again, which was good because its crazy humid out today. Lying there I felt like I was dropping through the floor, hitting the level below me, then the floor below that. When I turned my neck to the other side (in this variations of the pose my head is turned to one side; if you practice it like me always remember to turn your head in the opposite direction!) I felt like I could barely move it, as if someone was picking up my head and moving it for me. There were moments I felt so still that I had stopped breathing. Could I just be this deeply bone tired. Possibly. Sleep has not been generous lately. Lying down sort of helped, only because I felt much worse when I was standing up walking around.

At first I couldn’t figure it out. I made it through an appointment with the mold guy this morning at 8am (yah! this is the continuing saga of my apartment), then a phone conversation with my sponsor (I am in long-term recovery) and then a meeting. Then I remembered something: after my cup of tea this morning I had felt nothing. More importantly, the little zap I get, a zinging jolt that catapults me into the first and second half of the day after taking my morning prednisone: not there.

Ahhhh, I sighed, vertigo.

Quick backstory: Summer 2018 my grandfather has his first heart attack in a summer series and I get an ear infection in both ears. (These two occurrences will always go hand in hand. I got sick the very day he was hospitalized). Without going into the details of what a rotten time everything about that time was; now I have omnipresent tinnitus in my left ear, and a slight deafness of certain tones (same ear). I also have an increased sensitivity to other sounds; this last bit is so much worse than it sounds, because it exacerbates my tendency to get overstimulated easily. I also get periods of vertigo. The first time was the worst. Constant dizziness, very clear trouble with balance. But also a foggy head, like my mind was a hot and humid swamp, everything covered with slimy rotting stuff– whatever grows and dies in a swamp. I just couldn’t grab a hold of anything long enough stay with it. Over the years, the spells (for lack of a better word) always start abruptly, always include this muddled overmedicated-feeling; the tinnitus is amplified, like it aims to claim all my territory and is only starting with the space in my left ear. There’s a sense of being disoriented, like I’m coming down with something. But it’s not until I realize that the very little caffeine I do have hasn’t worked that I realize it’s the vertigo. It’s not like this is a thing, a symptom of vertigo; at least not that I can find. I did look at one point. But in my head, in my body, it all connects. I know. To say the least, it is a major pain in the ass. And how much it affects me truly depends on the starting point of my current mental state.

But I don’t want to complain here, I’ve done enough of that already. I want to write about being with what is, especially when what is absolutely SUCKS.

The universe gave me a wonderful afternoon and evening yesterday (and yes, that’s how I look at it). Today, on the other day, is not turning out at all as I had planned. I am well-versed in recovery slogans and the idea of making plans only makes whoever’s or whatever’s in charge laugh. But something I was unaware of until this morning, talking in my meeting actually, was that I have this idea that without my health issues, from mental to physical, I would be a crappy person. I know I just threw that right out there, having already said I want to talk about something else. But I’d like to come back to that last bit in another post. Because examining this area of “what I deserve v. what I don’t deserve” has been a pretty hot topic for me these last several months.

Back to the point of now: “sitting with discomfort” is not a skill we’re taught in our culture. In fact, lots of people make lots of money because we believe we need things outside ourselves in order to feel better. When we feel crappy, sad, angry, unloved, bitter, bored– or icky for any reason at all we cannot tolerate it. More dangerous and potentially endlessly profitable for the powers that be is the hole we humans (dare I say mostly Americans??) carry large enough to encompass what we feel as our emptiness. And we are so uncomfortable with this emptiness, we see it as an intense lack of, it makes us so agitated that we need something else to fill it so we can feel whole and loved and accepted. Because we falsely believe that  who we are right now in this moment is not enough to be loved, seen, and worthy of being here. We buy and buy and buy and try on new relationships, new geographies all in hopes of changing our internal landscape. So we, as a society, are not good at being with what is when that “what is” is uncomfortable.

Well, what if what is is unbearable. Look what’s happening in the world, in our country. Beyond the pandemic; with the awakening that’s happening (including for myself), and the violence, the unleashing of it across the board of hundreds of years of racial hatred. This isn’t new by any means. It’s just blown up; a cocktail of fear and hatred broiling under the surface of denial, entitlement, and rage then given the permission by some in power to act upon both of these irrational feelings with violence. I don’t speak too much about it only because I still feel as though I don’t know enough of what I’m talking about. I know what I see, what I hear. Maybe I’m clinging on to that white tendency of not wanting to sound ignorant (god forbid I’m wrong) or maybe I want to do a little more self-educating before I feel comfortable writing about how white people have taken advantage of their inherited privileges while many still claim racism doesn’t even exist. How I now realize indigenous people and people of color are the most resilient human beings we have in our community.

Maybe I’m still ashamed of my ignorance. If it is the latter, then I have to work though my shit fast because shame paralyzes action. This is not a time to not act. And for me, not feeling well some days as I do, I suppose part of acting will be writing. So I have to risk saying the wrong thing, risk someone correcting me, informing me so I can write more accurately; and then being humble enough to say, “thank you.”

What matters to me right in this moment is this: we have to find a way to tolerate our uncomfortable feelings, our pain; be it physical, mental, or emotional– or, spiritual. We have to find a way to move our rage, our grief. Dance is excellent for this! Even more so than yoga, I think. If we want to continue to raise consciousness, confront our own part in this racist and oppressive system, this marginalization of “minorities” (I put that in quotes because I think we use that very word to dehumanize the more vulnerable populations) and find a way to bring healing to this enormous chasm that lies between us. There are some days I feel hoping draining from me like I have slow a leak somewhere I can’t find. This is one of those days. I also think we can take what’s happening around us, internalize it, and it can make us sick. I believe it’s one of the ways autoimmune disorders work. I’m not saying its my fault I’m sick (what I used to believe), I’m saying my body is telling me something is wrong and I should listen.

And if I don’t listen, my body will make it so I have to listen. So today I listen.

I am just all over the place here. I give myself license because I don’t feel well. Okay. Getting back to me and being sick today. I’m not saying distraction is bad. I told myself I was going to post that piece I was telling you about earlier. Instead I’m here writing another I would say mediocre post. After I finish this alternative plan I am going to delve into some serious tv watching. Maybe two hours. Reading is out of the question. Being out in the sun (and heat and humidity) is going to aggravate the hell out of how I feel, and I want to forget a little bit about how sucky this is right now.

In terms of  thinking of the the longer game though (long game?), if that’s an expression, I need to get some serious quiet and stillness around this present state of mine. Which is another way to say I need some solid time of non-doing where I can come to a form of acceptance. This is how it is right now. This will not be forever. I can try different breathing techniques, each one I learned in yoga, I can try different restorative shapes (these are poses we do using lots of supports such as blankets and pillows. The point is to give our body the message that it’s safe enough to let its guard down and relax. It’s an essential practice for deactivating the nervous system, but an incredibly challenging one for people who have a hard time being still with themselves. And when a history of trauma is involved, navigating these quiet states gets extra tricky). I can try movement. Maybe I’ll get back in the dirt (my garden).

There are many ways to get our medicine.

So I guess I’m coming to terms with the suckiness of right now. But really, to briefly glance at the glass half-full: I’m finally in a bed again (there was this whole thing with my ceiling falling in and being without a bed for a month), my dog is next to me, and I have both my AC going on one side of the room with a small fan directly on my face. I will continue to drink copious amounts of water. And I will commit to you right now that I will do some breathing exercises. Today I will use this piece as a way to stay accountable for taking care my needs getting met. Because no one else is going to love me and take care of me the way that I can. Yuck, I know. But I’m working on it.