...but you can't do both. I had a doctor say this to me once. Not one I was particularly fond of, I might add, but I saw the truth in his words. Of course his version of living was to pump me full of Lyrica and Cymbalta and watch me balloon up to epic proportions, a walking pancreas attack waiting to happen. So I found a new doctor. But yesterday his phrase took on a whole new meaning, for I tried to go back to work and it was simply awful. Retail in this economy is tough, but I cannot justify hounding 75 corporate service objectives into each customer in order to squeeze every last penny out of them. It just seems so irrelevant! Today I found myself racing around at top speed, my hair frizzled out like my poodle's, sweat carving rivulets through my makeup as it poured down my face and plopped onto my shaking hands in big fat milky drops. I was constantly losing track of what I was doing and saying from one minute to the next and have forgotten basic product knowledge I could previously recite in my sleep. I was a sight, a certifiable hot mess! Well about halfway through today it smacked me in the face, I am done.
Part of me has indeed died, I have just been refusing to acknowledge it. That type-A overachiever, perfectionistic control freak, rise to any occasion and work until I collapse girl is dead. She died in that hospital bed when I was diagnosed with two strokes mere days before my 34th birthday, it just took me going back to my old job to realize this. Day in and day out my obsession has been to resume normal living, like I could just dust myself off and jump right back on the horse I was riding before my brain's blood vessels decided to put on a fireworks show. I believe it's because normal is what I fought so hard to get back when I was disabled with CFS and Fibromyalgia. It represented success to me, going back to work, having a social life again, resuming and regaining some of what I had lost. But over the last two days, with each pang in my brain or ping in my body, I became acutely aware of how vulnerable I really am and close to death I actually came. I also know how lucky I am to have survived and cannot continue to rely on my own wisdom to see me through this momentous challenge called life. Surrender goes against every value I was raised with but look where they have gotten me...not a pretty sight.
So I am choosing to put my actions behind my words and live in faith, not fear. I have to start listening to my body and recognizing the ill-fated pattern that has enveloped my life. I pushed myself into some very serious health problems by not listening to clanging warning signs, but no more. I am going to get to livin'! It's just going to be in a different form than it was before. I am so paranoid and freaked out about all the details of life I cannot control but until I relinquish that control it will be my control. I believe I was created with a purpose, have been sharpened and honed in many different ways to develop that purpose. Now I must sit back and allow it to take form in my life. I can do it my way or God's way, and I am finally ready to choose God's way.
Thanks for joining,
This blog was originally published on 9/9/10. I was in full high-dose Prednisone swing and with renewed gratefulness am thrilled that phase of my recovery is far behind me.