For Everything There is a Season

"In order to write about life, first you must live it." ~ Ernest Hemingway

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The Fury of Mother Nature

June 5, 2011 / / 2 Comments

I sit here on my couch, in my home, freshly showered with clean clothes on. I have my boyfriend sitting next to me working on his computer and my dog resting quietly on her blanket. We have a roof over our heads. There is food in the refrigerator. We have electricity and running water. Except for a sunburn and very irritated eyes, I am comfortable.

That is not so for many families living in communities surrounding mine. Here in the western part of Massachusetts on Wednesday June 1, 2011, several tornadoes ripped through this part of the state leaving a pattern of devastation so rarely, if ever, seen in this little hub of New England. We just don’t get tornadoes of this magnitude in this part of the country. It is something that we hear about happening in Missouri or Kansas. Massachusetts averages two tornadoes a year and to be honest, you usually never hear about them. Most of us have only seen photos on TV of torn off tree tops and flattened homes.

I really wanted to find a way to help some of the victims from this terrible tragedy and was fortunate enough to be able to join my church to spend a day in the local town of Monson to assist a family and their neighbors with sorting through the debris of what were once their homes. We brought supplies and just as importantly brought some hope and some faith. I had lived for two years in the quiet town of Monson many years ago and therefore had a soft spot in my heart for this quiet and friendly town.

Nothing can really prepare you for the sight of the landscape you see when you approach a part of a town that has seen a tornado tear through it. The trees are gone, or at very least the tops of them. Whole buildings are collapsed. There are wires down on the street every which way you turn. National Guard personnel stand on the street corners and walk down the sidewalks. As we drove through, it seemed to me that the scene might be similar to a war zone as depicted on TV. There are claims adjusters and other official looking people going from site to site. People’s belongings are strewn all over not only their lawns, but on their neighbor’s neighbor’s lawn.

We sorted and we sifted. We made piles. We lifted, hauled, and carried. We gave hugs. We tried to console without letting the victims see our tearful eyes behind our dark sunglasses. Part of me felt like I was privy to the insides of someone’s life as I was sorting through their clothes and other personal belongings. I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to be so displaced; to have strangers sorting through your belongings and in less than two minutes, to have your entire existence as you know it changed forever. I don’t know personally the people that we helped today, but I knew that I just wanted to turn back the clock for them and freeze May 31, 2011 so that they never had to experience the loss and sorrow associated with June 1, 2011.

However despite all of the loss, there was so much hope. We heard several stories of survival. I was shown a small space underneath the complete collapse of a home where a woman and her 12 year old child crawled out from the basement. I saw children about 11 or 12 years old walking the streets offering food and water to the residents of the neighborhood as well as to the men and women working to help restore power lines and such. I witnessed an incredible amount of supplies being hauled into the neighborhood; people sometimes having to carry them for a mile or so because vehicle access was limited.
It’s funny because oftentimes we go about our day to day lives and get so caught up in what is NOT good in this world….the people who hurt us, scorn us, or just plain aggravate the hell out of us. But I have to tell you, there is a lot of good in this world. There is also a lot of human resiliency. When people are faced with the most adverse of circumstances, they find something deep inside themselves that they didn’t know that they had. They rise to the occasion.
I started writing this blog posting last evening as this all took place yesterday, but I had to put it away for a bit before I could finish it. Sometimes when an experience is overwhelming to me, I have to write down some initial thoughts and then come back to it. It can be because I am having a difficult time with the writing. In this instance though, I had to come back to it because the emotions of the day were so overwhelming to me yesterday. They still are, but the shock has worn off a bit. I feel like I was part of a process that was so raw on a human emotional level. There was something so deeply personal and humanistic about helping these disaster victims. People like you and me. People who, by chance, live in the path of Mother Nature’s fury. People who will face their obstacles, rebuild, and continue on.

Photos: Chuck Myers and Christine Molloy

My (Im)Perfect Body

May 9, 2011 / / 3 Comments

“You’ve got your body for life, you might as well learn to get along with it.” ~ Sandy Kumskov

In my previous blog entry Turning Forty, I referred to the fact that I am not always physically comfortable in my own skin. As I was writing that sentence, I just knew that I was going to have to blog about it. Body image issues are a topic I can write extensively about and well, I haven’t. I did do an entry back in April about taking responsibility for my health, which was in reference to weight issues, but that has been it.

Truth be told, it has been difficult to consider writing about my relationship with my body until now. There has recently been a shift in my appreciation for the physical appearance of my body. At first I thought it was because I have been taking much better care of myself and it is starting to show. I am seeing muscles that have been buried my whole life. I have lost weight. That being said, I think it is more than that though. I think the bigger shift has been in the way I think about my body.

Except for maybe my hair, I usually don’t have a positive thing to say about the image staring back at me in the mirror. I have too many stretch marks (especially since I have never given birth!); WAY too much fat around my middle; arms are too flabby; too much hair in places that I shouldn’t…the list goes on and on. Why in God’s name do we do this to ourselves? I know that this is not an issue exclusive to me. How many times have we had friends or other people we know criticize their appearance, all the while we are just rolling our eyes because we think they are drop dead gorgeous? Despite the fact that God created this wonderful home for our soul, spirit, or whatever your name for it is, oftentimes all we can see is the imperfections that stare at us from the mirror.

Now though, sometimes I can look in the mirror and actually summon up a positive thought or two. I can think to myself how remarkable it is that my body is still functioning at all after the obscene amount of procedures, toxic medications, and stress it has been through. I look at my eyes and thank them for enduring years of severe dryness; some people actually have eye damage/vision loss from it and I have not. I look at my hands and in them I see the miles they have put on holding the hands of others. I appreciate the heartiness and strength of my feet which for most of my life, have endured much more weight on them then they should have. I look at my chest and I think of the miraculous work my heart has done for me despite it being broken many times, both figuratively and literally. As I give myself a once over every morning (at least once!), I try to remember the times my body has given love and received love.

It’s not an easy thing to look at one’s (im)perfect body and think of it as anything but flawed but like they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. For now, I am going to try and behold the beauty that is my wonderful, strong, and courageous body.

Turning Forty

May 2, 2011 / / 9 Comments

 “Life begins at forty.” – W. B. Pitkin

I am going to be 40 years old tomorrow. By the time you get to 40, it seems like many people are dreading having another birthday. Not me. To start with, to have a birthday means to have made it through this world another year and be fortunate enough to be looking forward to another one. That right there is enough cause for joyful celebration. I was diagnosed with cancer nine days before my 25th birthday; that can change your perspective on the whole birthday thing quite a bit. So can getting to the other side of heart surgery, chronic autoimmune illness, and severe depression. When you are a survivor of anything, whether it be illness, death of a loved one, abuse, the list goes on and on; birthdays are an opportunity for us to celebrate ourselves and what we have endured. It is a chance to say “Yes I have gotten here”. It also is a chance to be hopeful that maybe, just maybe, the next year can help us realize some of our hopes and dreams.

I have to be honest; it really bothers me when people complain about having another birthday, whether it be their 40th or any other year. I just don’t get it. I know that my perspective about the birthday thing is not always the same view other people have. As a society, we don’t usually value getting older and a birthday is a reminder that we are in fact getting older.

Maybe we are afraid of getting sick…
Maybe we are afraid of death…
Maybe we are afraid we won’t be as useful as we once were…
Maybe we are just disappointed that we have not accomplished what we thought we would.

See, I don’t look at it like that. I have even tried to look at it like that so I can be relatively sympathetic to my friend’s complaints (I have quite a few turning 40 this year!) but the truth is: I am grateful to see that big “40” on a cake or on a card. It means I got 5484 more days than I originally planned on when I was 24 years old.

That being said, the course of my life has veered quite drastically from where I planned it to go when I was 18, 20, or even 30 years old. At this point, I was supposed to be married with 2.2 kids, a few dogs, and a house with a white picket fence. I was supposed to have some financial security as well as a fabulous nursing career. I was not supposed to spend the better part of my 20’s and 30’s dealing with so much illness, stress, and heartbreak. Ahh, the best laid plans.

So where did my life end up at 40 years of age? I’m divorced with no kids, not financially secure by any means (well heck, who is these days?), out of work for over two years, and I have complicated health issues. I also ended up with an incredible circle of friends, a loving family, a pretty cool (although oftentimes psychotic) dog, a warm home, a loving and supportive church family, a relationship with God, and a man who has redefined for me what it is to truly love.

On the way to 40, I have also ended up with a very strong sense of self. I have learned to love myself and to value the gifts I have to share in this world. I cannot say that about the former 30 year old version of myself. I have confidence. I even like who I am on most days. As I approach 40, I am learning to be more physically comfortable in my own skin. I have to say, that still remains one of my biggest challenges; maybe I will have mastered it by the time I am 50.

I have learned a lot about how to be a good friend and partner.

I have had the opportunity to work with people who have faced much greater hardships than I can ever imagine.

I have learned to treat my body with the respect that it deserves.

I have learned how to be grateful.

I have stopped living my life as a race and instead have learned to live each day like it is a privilege.

I guess it is true what they say about wisdom coming with age.

Photo: Courtesy of Chuck Myers

Lifting Up My Voice

April 19, 2011 / / 6 Comments

“I don’t sing because I’m happy; I’m happy because I sing.” ~William James

Since my childhood years of going to mass every Sunday, I have always wanted to sing in a church choir. I know that is not exactly a very common ambition or goal for many people, but it has been for me. So many obstacles got in the way. First and foremost, if you want to sing in a church choir, you have to well, go to church. As an adult, I never attended a church on a regular basis until about five years ago when I made that oh so radical change from being a Catholic to becoming a member of the United Church of Christ. Also other things got in the way. I worked a lot of weekends as a nurse, I had stage fright (that was a big obstacle as a child/teenager!), I didn’t think I was good enough; the list goes on and on. That didn’t stop me from singing from my personal, safe little spot in the pew though on Sunday mornings.

Then I lost my job due to a medical illness and I was at church almost every Sunday morning. However part of my medical issues were problems with my breathing (asthma) and voice (vocal cord dysfunction) due to an autoimmune disorder. There was no way I could sing. Some days I couldn’t even talk on the phone it was so bad. As time went on and I finally got hooked up with a great pulmonologist, speech therapist, and acupuncturist, the breathing issues got more under control. Then I started to think (especially since I had so much speech therapy!) that maybe, just maybe I could pull it together enough to do some singing at church.

Around the same time, I was approached by my friend Kathy, who spent many years singing in our church choir and she assured me that the choir would love to have me whenever I could sing. There was a Christmas concert coming up and I figured what the heck, I had nothing to lose by trying. I have to admit, I did struggle quite a bit at first during the rehearsals last December. Between the Sunday morning church rehearsals and the Sunday evening hour long practices, I knew there was a possibility of backsliding. I was quite determined though. I worked hard on my speech therapy exercises to strengthen my vocal cords and was meticulous about doing everything my pulmonologist and acupuncturist instructed me to do. Sure enough, as the weeks went by, it gradually got easier and easier. The Christmas concert came and went. By February, it felt like the singing was actually making my breathing better and my vocal cords stronger. My pulmonologist was overjoyed and to be honest, so was I.

It is now April and we just had our Easter Cantata yesterday; approximately 4 ½ months since I joined the choir. It was a momentous morning for me. I sang through more than six songs and actually lived to tell about it! Not only did I sing, but I sang well. The day brought back memories from November 2008 and onward of multiple hospitalizations, weekly doctor’s visits, and the uncertainty of not knowing when my next emergency room visit would be. Funny how much can change in 2 ½ years.

It is so hard to try and put into words what singing with my church choir has done for me. It provides a more intimate way for me to worship God. It lifts my spirit and my soul when I struggle just with getting through the day. It has taught me patience, especially with myself (I can be my harshest critic). Singing with my choir has given me the opportunity to be a part of something bigger than myself. I have formed more cherished friendships. Every week I get to work with an incredible group of people to achieve a common goal: to lift up our voices in worship. And for that, I am quite grateful.

Taking Responsibility

April 1, 2011 / / 7 Comments

A man sooner or later discovers that he is the master-gardener of his soul, the director of his life. ~James Allen

I attended a conference the other day in which some statistics were presented about obesity rates in different parts of the world. It stated that women in the United States have an obesity rate of 36% which earned us the number one spot for modernized countries. For men, it was somewhere in the low 30’s. Seriously? Note that these are percentages for women who are obese, not just overweight. The difference is that to be obese, your body mass index (BMI) must be greater than 30%. The rates for the countries that scored lower on the list such as Japan and Korea were in the range of 5-7%. I am sure considering the drastic differences in the lifestyle habits between us and our Asian friends that no one finds these numbers surprising, but the reality is, it is a strong statement about the lifestyles that we live.

I don’t want this to be a blog about numbers though. It is about health, our health and the health of those that we love. We are an incredibly unhealthy society and I am no exception. I have been overweight (and then obese) since I hit puberty. At my highest weight, I was approximately 100 lbs. over what experts would consider a “normal” weight for me. The reasons for this were many: bad eating habits as a child, lack of exercise, antidepressent medications, autoimmune medications (especially steroids) and the big one-emotional eating. I developed what I think to be an addiction to sugar and processed foods. I come from a family where heart disease, diabetes, and especially cancer are rampant. I have a mother who has had ovarian and breast cancer (breast cancer has found to have obesity as a risk factor) which subsequently puts me in a high risk category. I myself am a cancer survivor and because of treatments I received, am at risk for secondary cancers. But yet, that didn’t stop me from consuming quarter pounders and french fries. Despite the insane amount of health problems I have had (many not weight related but that is besides the point-I was sick of being sick), I still threw crap like soda, fried food, cookies, candy, potato chips, etc. etc. into my body on a daily basis.

Because of many factors, I lost a good deal of weight over the past two years. Mostly because I dealt with my emotional eating issues (some of it in therapy) and no longer turn to food for my comfort. I was more physically active by walking my dog on a semi regular basis. I was cooking more at home. The reality though was this: I was still overweight (technically still “obese”). I was still unhealthy. Even though I had made some great strides with Chinese medicine in dealing with the autoimmune disorder, I was still plagued with pain and fatigue. I was sick of being sick. I was sick of craving crappy foods. I wanted to be able to get through a day like everyone else. I wanted to learn to ballroom dance. I wanted to be fit. I wanted to be healthy. I needed to take responsibility.

So about a month or so ago, I decided to take responsibility for my body. I have spent an obscene amount of time reading, researching, and figuring out how to get myself out of this hole that so many of us have fallen into. A lot of it is mental. I really wasn’t sure I had the capability to be healthy and fit. I didn’t think I had the capability?!? How sad is that? That’s ridiculous Yes, I may have some physical limitations but for whatever I lack in that area, I make up for in intelligence and determination! I mentioned this to my boyfriend (the not being able to do it part) while we were watching the Biggest Loser one night and he just looked me right in the eye and said he thought I could do it. He thought I could lose that last 40 lbs. and be fit. Like they say, sometimes you just need one person to truly believe in you…

I will not diet. I strongly feel that dieting is harmful to not only a person’s body, but also to their soul. What I did do is change my nutrition. After I had started acupuncture last November, I had made some changes such as cutting soda out of my diet (one of the hardest things I have ever done) already, but I needed a big overhaul. So I have begun eating I guess what is called a “clean” diet. I am trying to focus on fruits, vegetables, whole grains, and lean proteins. My goal is to reduce (and hopefully eliminate) processed foods. That is what makes us unhealthy and fat. I try to eat organic as much as possible. I am not perfect at it but I do the best I can and try to be patient with myself. It’s a learning process.

Exercise has now become a regular part of my life. I stalked Planet Fitness’s website for a while waiting for a good promotion so I could afford to join a gym. I prefer to spend time outside walking my dog, but I figured the gym would give me a place to exercise so I have no excuses for when it is raining, snowing, too hot, or too cold outside. I do live in New England after all! I also wanted to see if I could build up some muscle strength by using weight machines. The exercise part has been very tough for me to figure out in terms of my joints, fatigue, etc. I have to closely monitor what I’m doing and when I am doing it in order not to overdo it. But I just keep telling myself that research has proven beneficial for joint pain as well as asthma so I keep at it. I do think it will get easier as time goes on.

So that’s my story…and I’m sticking to it! I have to admit, it is not an easy story to blog about (who wants to admit that their BMI is over 30??) but I figure that I am not alone. I can’t be alone. Over 1/3 of us are obese in this country. Some people say they are OK with that, being obese or overweight. They say that they only live once, so they are going to enjoy their daily diet of double cheeseburgers and french fries. To that I say: power to you. Me? I only live once too. And you can sure bet that I am going to enjoy the hell out of it for as long as I possibly can. And it’s all going to start by taking responsibility.

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