Tag: intuition

Keep rolling under the stars

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Hi buds! This sure has become a pattern for me, huh? Dripping life updates at a glacial pace. I always apologise or throw up an excuse for why it’s taken me so long to post something new, but really I’m not all that sorry and I don’t have an ‘excuse’. I post when I feel ready to a) share and b) delve into the emotional complexities of the situations I’ve been going through. And at the end of the day, this blog is for me, mostly, and you just get the pleasure of coming along for the ride. So I say: you’re welcome. And also thanks for taking the journey with me. Coming to a cinema near you! Not really, but wouldn’t it sell!?

Truth be told, I’ve been plodding along rather contentedly the last few months. But today is World Mental Health Day, and I’ve been inspired by my colleagues who’ve taken time out of their days to share personal stories of struggle, with tips on how they’ve overcome them. I’ve been exceptionally reserved and introverted at work, keeping all personal details about my life to myself for various reasons. Mainly, I found it incredibly difficult dealing with the day-to-day once my colleagues at my previous job knew about the struggles I was facing. Though they all meant well and logically I was fully aware of this (even in the moment), it became far too painful enduring very personal questions, often uninvited. Once I opened up, it’s like I couldn’t keep anything to myself anymore. My story and my struggle were no longer mine alone, and everyone always wanted to know what was happening. When I left and began my new job, I vowed not to let this happen again, and reasoned the best way to avoid personal discomfort was to shut up and keep to myself. I think I’ve done quite well, though I’m not sure it’s really been as beneficial as I thought. I work with amazing people (hi colleagues!), and I do feel guilty quite often for not letting any of them in.

I genuinely believe talking about things out loud helps make even the scariest of scenarios seem a little bit less daunting. But I’ll tell ya from experience – it sure isn’t easy to start. A constant ripping-off-the-bandage feeling, most often accompanied by unwanted tears. We’re always embarrassed by our tears… why is that?

Anyway. Life. What’s happening? How am I? Well, as I said, I’ve been relatively fine considering most things. I want to attribute this to growth: learning how to better cope, how to respond to my own reactions, talking to people when I need guidance. I realise that I’ve not actually been better, but the improvement in my response and recognition hasn’t gone unnoticed. For example, just the other night I had a panic attack. These are not uncommon for me, and they’re really horrific to experience. I liken it to feeling as if you’re drowning, in quicksand, being fully lucid yet paralysed, in -100 degree chill. It’s awful. But this time, I felt the panic attack coming on, was able to tell my husband just before and he helped me get through it; talking to me, insisting I try drinking water, rubbing my back. Within minutes, I had regained control and was out of the panic attack. It’s the quickest I’ve ever done it, and to me that feels like progress. I’m still the same person, but maybe a better version of myself. It’s taken awhile to get here, though, and a whole lotta courage.

And it’s never really done.

Things have been especially tough for, gosh, an entire year now. My husband’s seemingly ever-evolving medical issues have more or less called the shots on the daily. However he feels is how the day goes. On bad pain days, which are most days now, all responsibilities fall on me. I know he absolutely does not mean for it to burden me and I know it kills him to ask me to do something like get him a glass of water because he simply can’t bear to stand up, and I hate he subsequently experiences two kinds of pain from these situations, but it has been hard for me. I’ve had to literally learn how to cook edible meals or force us both to starve on days he can’t cook. I’ve had to run across the city at the last minute because he needed me for emotional support during a flare up. I had to paint almost the entire flat by myself because he couldn’t muster more than near 10 minutes on his feet. I’ve had to abandon family events to get him home and back in a comfortable space. I’ve become a human WebMD. I’ve been forced to become physically stronger so I’m able to push a man twice my size in a wheelchair. If I’m ill, but he needs me, he comes first without hesitation. I’ve had to watch the love of my life continually suffer, unable to take away his pain. Still. I’m honestly still so exhausted every minute of my life, but I do all of this and more because I want to. Because that’s what love is about: being partners, and helping each other when needed. I do not resent him or blame him for any of this, and he knows that, but he also knows it weighs on me. We do what we can for each other, when we can.

Recently, we’ve learned he’s vitamin deficient, which has caused severe bouts of dizziness and too-many-to-count near-collapses. This deficiency has appeared to cause even more problems with his nerve condition, though doctors haven’t medically linked the two yet. We’ve become so astute to his symptoms, we can’t help but notice the parallels of pain flares and dizzy spells. We wonder how long he’s been so deficient? Was he always? Is this something we missed that could’ve prevented further damage had we realised sooner? Is this why the spinal cord stimulator hasn’t been helping? It’s impossible not to wonder these things, but completely fruitless at the same time. We know this. Yet we still wonder. It keeps me up at night now, despite already having issues with insomnia.

Dealing with this has never gotten any easier. I’ve just gotten better at it. I’ve stopped allowing myself to feel like I’m missing out on something by staying home with him because I want to stay home with him. I don’t get upset when he has to tap out of an activity quickly and asks me to step in because I expect this now. Well, I’ll be honest, some days I do still get upset because it gets hard ya know? But I’m so much better now.  We didn’t choose this life. We didn’t ask for it. We don’t want it. But it’s the life we have. We’re doing our best to make it work for us.

I can say today, with the utmost pride, that my husband has actually been an inspiration to me, despite what he may think sometimes. One day not too long ago, he announced to me that he was done feeling sorry for himself and letting his nerve condition determine his life. And that was it. Though it very obviously still does make most of our decisions for us, he no longer gives CRPS power over him. It’s amazing. He’s gotten so much better at acknowledging the pain, adjusting his actions, and getting on with things. He still wants to go for walks with me even though I know it causes him a great deal of pain. He doesn’t want to miss out on things he genuinely wants to do, and though it took us more than 5 years to get to where we are now mentally and emotionally, I am constantly in awe we’re managing it. He’s excelling at work and still makes it into the office every single day, even though he has to get a cab to and from. He’ll text me in the middle of the work day saying he’s in so much pain he wants to throw up, then after a quick pep talk gets right back to work and never gives up. If you want to know strength, you should meet my husband. He doesn’t make it look easy, but he makes it look achievable in impossible situations. I admire him more than he realises. I aspire to be this strong.

My biggest struggle of late is not being as honest as I can be about my issues with people who care about me. I don’t let anyone in because I find it hard to make them understand what I’m going through. They don’t understand how severe it is. They don’t see it. And as a result, I get angry and incredulous and stubbornly decide I’m done sharing with everybody because they just don’t get it so what’s the point? And when anyone seriously asks me about my husband and how he’s doing, I get emotional every single time. I can’t help it, and I hate it so much that that also prevents me from sharing. But the catharsis can help. I endeavour to try to be more open for my own sake. It won’t happen over night, but if I can claw my way out of a panic attack, then there’s hope for me yet.

There’s hope for all of us, really. We’ve just gotta believe it ourselves.

When you recognise that you will thrive not in spite of your losses and sorrows, but because of them, that you would not have chosen the things that happened in your life, but you are grateful for them, that you will hold the empty bowls eternally in your hands, but you also have the capacity to fill them? The word for that is healing.

Thicker than water

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Some people survive and talk about it. Some people survive and go silent. Some people survive and create. Everyone deals with unimaginable pain in their own way, and everyone is entitled to that – without judgement. So the next time you look at someone’s life covetously, remember: you may not want to endure what they are enduring right now, at this moment, whilst they sit so quietly before you looking like a calm ocean on a sunny day. Remember how vast the ocean’s boundaries are. Whilst somewhere the water is calm, in another place in the very same ocean, there is a colossal storm.

This year has been simultaneously remarkable and harrowing. I always refer to my life as a rollercoaster because that’s how it’s often felt with the ups and downs and the loopty-loops. It still really does. And now as I sit here halfway through 2017, I’m quite thunderstruck just absorbing the fact that half of this year has already passed. Time is slipping through my fingertips at a rather alarming rate. Some days, it’s unsettling. Others, I’m grateful for it. Life is a balance, isn’t it?

I recently made a surprise trip stateside to see my family. Namely, I went back to see my grandparents who’ve not been in good health lately, as I’ve previously mentioned. When I was initially planning to go, I wanted to write about my week when I returned to London because I thought it’d be cathartic in some way. I’ve been back a week now, and my opinion has changed slightly. Part of me wants to spill every little detail about my week and commit it to ink, but the other part of me wants to keep it close, to myself and those closest to me. As a writer, the latter bit stresses me out a little. I’ve been relatively open about massive issues I’ve faced in my life, especially recently, and I do genuinely find catharsis when I put my feelings into writing. But my week in Cleveland was special, emotional and one I’ll forever hold dear. Because it feels cruel to write a blog and mention something as dramatic as a surprise trip 4,000 miles away and not say a peep about it, I will say this:

My week home was heart-warming, exhausting, happy, sad and very, very fulfilling. My grandparents and aunt were so incredibly surprised and thrilled to see me and spend time with me, and that’s all I ever wanted from the trip: to make them happy and aware that I was willing to drop everything in a heartbeat to be there for them. And I was. I was there. And I will be again if and when they want or need me to be.

It was not a holiday. It was not time off. I woke up every morning at 5am because that was 10am UK time and I worked a full day. Every day that week. Then by 1pm, the UK workday was over so I’d get ready for the afternoon and spend it with family. In the evenings, I’d squeeze in a few hours to see friends. I’d fall into bed every night absolutely shattered, mostly running on adrenaline, which seems to be my only fuel source this year. I rolled back into London on a Sunday morning and rocked right back to work that Monday. It was very hard, but I don’t regret doing it. It was the right time for me to show up, and I’m so, so glad I did. However, I have no idea how I’ll ever top that kind of gift! Think I set the bar too high for myself…

I still don’t know what’s next in this long saga of continuous chaos. Some days I’m optimistic and strong and cheery, other days I’m a moody, grumpy lump on a log for no discernible reason. Some days I’ll talk my friends’ ears off about what’s bugging me or what I’m excited for, and other times I force them into an awkward exchange with lots of one-word answers and uncomfortable silences. I don’t know how people are meant to handle the things I’ve been going through this year, and I don’t know that there’s really a guidebook for any of it either. Day by day I take things as they come, and meet them with whatever mood happens to me. I never have proof of my strength and I often feel like a wimpy, whiny baby, but I’ve been told that I’ve been doing okay so I take that as a success and keep moving forward.

My life isn’t better or worse than anyone else’s. While it’s hard not to feel like the world owes me something, I want to believe that everything happens for a reason. Maybe this year is a year for hard-earned lessons that will prep me for whatever 2018 has coming my way. I don’t know. I can’t know for sure. But what I do have now that I didn’t have before is experience. I’ve learned way more in these last few months – about myself, life, humanity – more than I ever could’ve imagined I would.

This life is precious. Although it’s cliché, you never know what tomorrow may bring. I do what I can in a day, and then I’m done with it. I make time for what I want and need, and do my best now to strike a better balance between work and my personal life. Work still seeps into my personal life, but it is a choice and not a requirement. I am grateful to have friends both here and in my hometown, all of whom show their support for me when I need it. Life isn’t about merely surviving – it’s about living, right? That’s what they say.

So I guess this post is my thank you to everyone who’s been following my life thus far, offering tid bits of ‘you’re doing great!’ and ‘thinking of you’ comments here and there. I imagine from the outside looking in it’s been pretty dramatic and entertaining, so I can’t blame you for wanting to know how I am and how things are going. Thank you for caring. Thank you for striking up conversations even if I look unapproachable. Thank you for spending time with me even on the days I’m not very communicative. Thank you for being constant beacons of light when I’ve not even realised I was in the dark. I am so very grateful that even on days I feel like I’m dealing with this life alone, I’ve never actually been alone. It’s been quite the adventure so far, hasn’t it? Here’s hoping for tomorrow…

Wants, needs and the struggle of choice

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“One of the most troublesome things in life is that what you do or do not want has very little to do with what does or does not happen”

We are creatures of habit. We like routines and plans and knowing what’s in store. Let’s face it – most of what we choose to do is chosen merely to try to force a particular, desired outcome later down the line. Those of us who claim to be spontaneous and adventurous aren’t 100 percent honest because even then, we are making a choice to obtain a specific result. The difference is we do so suddenly and very quickly, right? Personally, I’ve always been the type of person to prepare and plan well in advance to avoid any surprises popping up in the future. Realistically, this is an absolute ridiculous mindset because it’s impossible to deter all surprises, but I did my best to mitigate as much as I could. I always had a plan and a pocket calendar to write it all down in pen – never pencil. There’s no room for uncertainty like that in my planner! But my problem was that although I felt prepared for the things I had control over, this didn’t equip me to deal with changes to my plans gracefully. So while 21-year-old Tanya would’ve insisted that I would be out of the country by the summer after graduation and writing for some great foreign company, she was blindsided by what the universe actually threw at her. So while my plan was and still is to get out and live elsewhere, the timing has changed drastically and I was forced to readjust. And that, as some of you may know, is not an easy thing to do.

Hunter S. Thompson said, “On some days, you get what you want and on others, you get what you need.” What tends to be tough to swallow is that what you want may not be what you need… and vice versa. They don’t always go hand in hand, so how do we prioritize between the two? To put it more simply: which matters more? Obviously, this is completely up to your own interpretation, but I think it comes down to specific scenarios. For example, I want out of my hometown, but I need to feel secure enough to move far away. My desire to move is completely reliant on being properly prepared to actually follow through. So in my mind, this means many things: secure finances, sufficient work experience and timing. However, I always struggle with that last condition because that falls outside the realm of my control and sometimes my understanding. How will I know if the timing is right or not? Is the timing a direct result of whether or not I have the other two conditions fulfilled? And when you spend so much time trying to figure this all out in your own head, it tends to end with you throwing your hands up in the air and sighing, “Well, hopefully I’ll just know,” as if we think our intuition will guide us the right way. But our gut’s been wrong before, remember? Oh, great. Now what?!

In my personal example, I chose to go with what I needed more so than what I wanted at that moment in time. It was a painfully hard decision to make that was met with many tears and empty demands to know why (Oh, why!!) I had to make such a choice. I had a limited amount of time to decide, for myself, what mattered most. That’s an immense amount of pressure to deal with without knowing what, exactly, would follow. So did I make the right choice? I have no idea. Ask me in 20 years. For now, I think it’s best to just hunker down and stick to what I chose. Ride it out to the fullest and revel in it. I didn’t throw my fate up in the air to chance, so I have to be content with my decision.

“I’ve been doing this a long time, and I’ve come to learn that predictions don’t mean much. Too much lies outside the realm of medical knowledge. A lot of what happens next comes down to you and your specific genetics, your attitude. No, there’s nothing we can do to stop the inevitable, but that’s not the point. The point is that you should try to make the most of the time you have left.”

I know that even more changes will spring up down the road and I will have to face them without having prepared for them. That’s the way life goes, right? Sometimes I’ll have to deal with things one-by-one, other times everything will barrel toward me at full speed all at once. I will continue to try to plan for a future the best I can, but I have to allow myself some wiggle room for when the plan has to change. It’s all about attitude and how we act when things don’t go our way. As I said, we can’t control time but we can control how we spend it. So make the tough choices not because you have to, but because you want to keep going and living and growing. And when things don’t exactly go to plan, don’t take it personally. Adjust. “‘It’s not a personal world,’ he told me, ‘no matter how much of it recognizes you on the street.'”