How to Become a Rockstar

I have a pile of partially written posts that never made it to the main page. This is one from before Covid. Maybe someone out there needs it now more than before. 

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I replaced a GFI outlet the other day.  I know that's not a big deal for most.  It wouldn't really be for me either (except for a slight fear of death by electrocution), but I have had to really lower my expectations lately, and I'm (trying to be) okay with that.  

Not long ago, I responded to a woman's post on the Hashimoto's Facebook page.  She was so sad, was just barely diagnosed, and feeling guilty about not being enough for her children, not being well enough to take her daughter to the doctor when she got sick, etc.  After I read my response back to myself, I decided I should keep my own copy to read on some future day when I need to hear the same words.  Here they are...

“Sweet, sweet, darling mama. You’re going to be OK. This is hard, no doubt about it. But you can do it.  Don’t  feel guilty for putting yourself first, and taking care of yourself. Try not to use the words like “failure”, or “terrible mom” when describing yourself, because your heart is listening. 

If your sweetest, dearest friend was going through this right now, how would you talk to her? What words would you use? Would you give her permission to be sad? Would you tell her she just got this diagnosis, and it will take time to adjust? Would you tell her that she has to give the medicine time to work, the information time to sink in?  Would you tell her that she is strong, and good, and capable, and that she will get through this?

I promise you will have better days. You will have bad ones too, but not all of them will be bad. One of the things that Hashimoto’s has given me that is really a gift, is to tell me to slow down, bring my babies up onto my lap and snuggle with them.  On days when I feel bad, we read. If I don’t feel up to reading, we watch a nature show together and talk about it. We play little games, sometimes with me laying down and the game resting on my tummy. My daughter has officially labeled me, “the best pony mom in the world” because I play ponies with her. A world title... not so shabby for a sick lady.

Here are my new rules:

If I’m tired I sit down.

If I am sleepy, I cancel plans and take a nap.

I don’t schedule more than one "outside" activity a day if I can help it.

As far as housework goes, if I get ONE thing done a day, I am a rockstar! And if I don’t, I have grace for myself for taking the day to rest.

Three months ago, I spent every waking minute on the couch or in bed. Unless I was absolutely forced to go get groceries or to take a child somewhere, I was on the couch laying down.  I now take two naps a week, instead of two a day. I’m getting my house tidied up little by little. I’m doing more things with my kids outside of the house. I’m starting to work on projects again. I am more cheerful and my anxiety is decreasing. My Hashimoto’s symptoms are less intense, and I’m feeling more hopeful. 

You’re going to be okay.  It’s going to be hard, 

but you’re good at doing hard things!"

*****

I can't think of anyone to whom this simple note does not apply.  We all need to take better care of ourselves.  This world we live in, with it's schedules and expectations, is so hard on us.  We are all suffering from being overbooked, undernourished, sleep-deprived, toxicified and spiritually drained.  If we don't care for ourselves, who will?

So, I am proud of the day I put in the GFI.  It took a long time, in an awkward spot in the hot garage.  I have about twenty more outlets to change out, but hey, one down!

That makes me a Rockstar, baby.

July 2019

Finding Love

I don’t know what it is, but I keep seeing hearts lately - heart shaped puddles, wood grain, leaves - little love notes everywhere. Maybe they’ve always been there. Maybe I’m just finally noticing. 

*****

Since Hashimoto’s moved in with me in the fall, I’ve been learning to let a lot go -the house, my schedule, my expectations- and for the first time I have begun to focus less on my character flaws, feel a little less guilt, and appreciate more what I am able to do while focusing less on what I’m not.  Finding a lil' self love.

But I’ve also had to face my failures and faults in a new way. At my church, I serve in the Young Woman’s organization. It’s a busy job, and I truly love it, but it has also provided me with the challenging opportunity to see my weaknesses through the eyes of others.  Just when I have been working to forgive myself for my many failings, to be patient with this disease and all it is taking from me, I’m often being handed a mirror at my least lovely moments. It’s been humbling. 

But the other day a woman on the autoimmune page I follow posted about her life.  She was just barely diagnosed, and feeling so sad and guilty about not being enough for her children, not being able to tend to her life as before.  I wrote a note of encouragement to her. After I read it back to myself, I realized I needed these words as well...

“Sweet, sweet, darling mama. You’re going to be okay. This is hard, no doubt about it. But you can do it.  Don’t  feel guilty for putting yourself first, and taking care of yourself. Try not to use the words like “failure”, or “terrible mom” when describing yourself, because your heart is listening. 

If your sweetest, dearest friend was going through this right now, how would you talk to her? What words would you use? Would you give her permission to be sad? Would you tell her she just got this diagnosis, and it will take time to adjust? Would you tell her that she has to give the medicine time to work, the information time to sink in?  Would you tell her that she is strong, and good, and capable, and that she will get through this?

I promise you will have better days. You will have bad ones too, but not all of them will be bad. One of the things that Hashimoto’s has given me that is really a gift, is to tell me to slow down, bring my babies up onto my lap and snuggle with them.  On days when I feel bad, we read. If I don’t feel up to reading, we watch a nature show together and talk about it. We play little games, sometimes with me laying down and the game resting on my tummy. My daughter has officially labeled me, “the best pony mom in the world” because I play ponies. A world title... not so shabby for a sick lady.

Here are my new rules:

If I’m tired I sit down.

If I am sleepy, I cancel plans and take a nap.

I don’t schedule more than one "outside" activity a day if I can help it.

As far as housework goes, if I get ONE thing done a day, I am a rockstar! And if I don’t, I praise myself for taking the day to rest.

Three months ago, I spent every waking minute on the couch or in bed. Unless I was absolutely forced to go get groceries or to take a child somewhere, I was on the couch laying down.  I now take two naps a week, instead of two a day. I’m getting my house tidied up little by little. I’m doing more things with my kids outside of the house. I’m starting to work on projects again. I am more cheerful and my anxiety is decreasing. My Hashimoto’s symptoms are less intense, and I’m feeling more hopeful. 

You’re going to be okay.  It’s going to be hard, 

but you’re good at doing hard things!"

*****

I can't think of anyone to whom this simple note does not apply.  We all need to take better care of ourselves.  This world we live in, with it's schedules and expectations, is so hard on us.  We are all suffering from being overbooked, undernourished, sleep-deprived, toxicified and spiritually drained.  If we don't care for ourselves, who will?

My heart has started listening. As I have begun to feel more patience with myself, I’m feeling more for others as well. Including the mirror-holders in my life. 

I replaced a GFI outlet the other day.  I know that's not a big deal for most.  It wouldn't really be for me either (except for a slight fear of death by electrocution), but it was my ONE THING for that day, and I did it.

That makes me a Rockstar, baby.

Rest

My little maple tree in the front yard is confused.  It has been a pretty warm, dry winter here in Northern California, and in November we had a week or two of weather in the seventies.  A few weeks later my little maple tree began pushing out shoots and tiny green leaves.  Those baby leaves opened around the same time the rest of the tree was in it's full autumnal glory, all ablaze in Christmas red.  My little tree was all decked out for the holidays in it's little red-green combo.  By the time the baby leaves were teenager leaves, the rest of the tree was quite a nursing-home baldy.

Then the cold came blasting in, and my little tree has rushed those sweet leaves right through adulthood and on to leaf geriatrics.  The tree spent a week as a clump of sticks with a red beanie of little fall leaves on top.  Now they are dropping into the pond below, confused little boats on chilly black water.

I've noticed a few of my other garden plants that seem botanically befuddled.  My impatiens are usually limp and soggy by now, and my begonia's strength should have retreated deep into the soil, the shroud of fall's last bloom turning black on the surface.  Instead they are a mix of dull greens and faded blooms, uncertain and insincere.  My bulbs have sprung, and a few brazen daffodils have burst out defiantly, as if daring a frost to even think about showing up.  In my neighborhood, springtime blossoms on fruit trees have shown up to the party far too early.

I once read that the earth needs to rest; that just as we need to sleep, or should, each time this blue planet does a singular turn, that the trees and most plants need to rest too.  The soil itself, covered in dead-fall, takes on nutrients and gives away nothing for a few short months before Spring, a demanding toddler, begins to take and take and take, again.

That is what winter is for.  Solitude.  Restoration. Quiet.

Rest.

I'm a little worried for my tree, that maybe the work it has had to do when it should have been resting will compromise its health and strength in the coming year, making it susceptible to to disease.  Then I go on to worry about all the trees; the ones the that grow the fruit that my family and community have taken for granted we will enjoy in this summer.  What if they bloom too soon?  What if winter comes back from it's strange vacation, trying to get all caught up on missed work, and with frigid fingers throws out a blanket that covers them and kills their blossoms?

My mother would say I'm borrowing trouble.  I probably am. What If-ing has never been a prosperous pastime.  Still, it feels like someone has taken a great, tentative breath, and we're all waiting.

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