In memory of...

Tomorrow will mark five years since my mother died.  Yesterday marked fourteen years since my husband's first wife had died.  In a few days, it will mark four years since my husband's mother died.  It's a bittersweet week for us.

In all the cases, the death was actually a bit of a relief because the dying was painful to witness, let alone to actually experience.  That didn't make the grief experienced any lighter or less significant for those who loved so intensely that the absence of that person was and is felt so keenly.  Dying is difficult for those engaged in that process; death is difficult for those left behind, still living, missing those who've died.

My husband always takes the time to reflect on what Sue meant to him, how they were married for 29 yrs, raising five children into young adulthood, and other aspects of their life together.  I think that this is very important to do, when Jerry feels like it.  I know that Sue is a huge part of his life; she was there for all of his Coast Guard career, a fair portion of his career at Mississippi State University, through all of the babyhood, toddler years, childhood, teens, and into young adulthood for their children; through all the joys and hurts and laughter and tears for their family together and their own families of origin thru those years, almost three decades of intimately knowing each other and loving and living their lives together as a couple. 

Those are times that continue to exist, even as they are in the past, because memories bring those experiences and emotions to life, yet again.

My mother lived nearby the last two and half years of her life.  Those were my favorite years with her.  I was able to spend time with her, get to know her and relate to her, both of us being adults.  We were able to make new memories and those are some of my most treasured involving her.

I've mentioned before that she died of congested heart failure and have explained what that is in great detail, so I won't dwell on it here; except to say that is the same condition her own mother had at the time of her death too.  Heart disease is prevalent in the maternal side of my family, with my uncle having had bypass when he was in his early thirties.  Diabetes makes a strong presence in both my maternal and paternal sides of my family, as well as the associated comorbidities like high cholesterol, high triglycerides, obesity, and other conditions that cascade into other health complications until the complexities become the main focus of daily life for those individuals, consuming them so much that depression often adds to the entire mess, bringing along with it a whole slew of dimensional anxieties that cannot be easily addressed as they are integrated throughout every other aspect of  their lives and those around them are affected in many ways as well.

Fortunately my mom was able to keep a well balanced perspective on life in general and her health particularly.  She did not become depressed, altho all the other conditions were present, including hypertension.  After her cardiac arterial double bypass grafting, a couple weeks before her death, mom had talked with me about the need to get my weight under control, because she knew that this very thing that she was then experiencing lay in my own future, not all that far away.

Yet even tho I knew that, I gained about another fifty pounds within the next six months and kept that weight on for the next five years.  This was despite the many attempts to address it.  This made me even more likely to develop the complications which high risk stage three obesity brings, as I was about 280 pounds and extremely frustrated with my failures to change my path for the future.

So seven weeks ago, I had bariatric surgery, electing to go with gastric bypass {Roux-en-Y, which also called RnY} over other methods of surgery.  I can tell a difference in the way my joints are relieved and no longer experiencing constant discomfort.  I breathe much easier, without quite as much constriction.  I have more energy, I'm sleeping better, and am not battling pervasive exhaustion.  This morning, when I stepped on the scale, I was about fifty pounds lighter than I've been for about five years.

I'm back to about the weight I was when my mother spoke with me after her heart surgery.  I know I've a long way to go yet.  This does feel like I'm moving in the right direction.  To me, this particular time feels meaningful in oh! so many ways.

Perhaps if you too are missing someone this holiday season, you can enjoy the memories and find your own meaning that will help to bring peace for you too.

Hello, December!

Being that my husband's and my tenth wedding anniversary was only two weeks out from my RnY, I was not the perkiest person around.  We'd had gone to Memphis and did tootle around town and did the things we wanted to do, even if the days were unseasonably cold for the end of October, which contributed to me feeling even more sluggish and slow.  Picture my husband with his gimp leg and aching joints moving slowly and somewhat painfully with a sloth~speed wife who was even blinking slowly.  We were a comical pair, however unintentional.

So Jerry had suggested that on November 30th, we have another celebration of our anniversary.  So as that day grew closer, I was giving thought to how we would spend the day.  At first, we were going to go to an area event, but then as the forecast showed storms and the vegan event was outside, I nixed those plans.

Finally, we decided to go out for lunch and then watch some movies together.  However, I was not quite up to heading out yesterday, all cuddling warm and comfy and not up to braving the storms and post Thanksgiving traffic of impatient shoppers.  So he made me baked tilapia instead, which was better than most restaurants would have been serving anyway.

We watched "Yesterday", an excellent movie about a man who after an accident remembers things that have not occurred and don't exist in his new reality.  Things like CocaCola, cigarettes, and the Beatles.  There are some life lessons that he learns along the way, that are not drummed into us, the viewers, but are subtle in the way that life actually does occur.

Then after that, we watched "Mary Poppins Returns", which was delightful and even better than I had thought it could be.  Emma Blunt is perfectly suited for Mary Poppins and delivers a solid performance, embodying all the characteristics we've come to associate with Mary Poppins.  Spit spot!

Affinity, based on the novel by Sarah Waters, was next up.  It does not have closed caption, so there were a few places I had to rewatch a scene or two so that I could be sure that I didn't miss anything that might be crucial later on.  It is set in Victorian London, so there were a few things that my husband asked about, as customs are very different here and now.  The movie was very good, but then again, I expected it to be:  how can you go wrong with Sarah Waters?

I continued to knit while we watched both the Dark Knight and the Dark Knight Rises.  I was very surprised at how much I enjoyed them, the storylines were well told and developed, the movies were well cast, and I was ready for another sequel.  But that was the end of Christopher Nolan's batman trilogy.

It was a good day, comfortable and content.  I managed to get my eight hours of solid sleep thru the night, with the exception being just before waking this morning, when I had the odd dream that was bound to cause some slight anxiety to my dream~self as it involved folks being perturbed with me over events I could not control, that I was not even involved with, and that hadn't actually happened in real life but that obviously had in the dream world.  As I was waking, I felt a huge sense of relief as I thought, "a year or so ago, I would have woken in a panic, now it's mostly annoyance I feel".

Today is the first of December.  Tho it is rather warm out today, tomorrow will prove to be a bit chillier with tomorrow evening dropping into the teens.  That's downright cold no matter where you are!  But it's all the more so for Mississippi as we spend the majority of our year in warmer temps and it feels like anything much cooler than midSixties is sweater weather, or at least a light jacket.

Most universities and colleges are wrapping up their fall terms and students are preparing to return home for a few weeks on winter holidays.  School children {and let's face it, teachers too} are counting down the days til christmas break, which for Mississippi will begin on or around December 20th.  And shoppers are well aware that there are only a few weeks before Christmas.

Office parties and other social engagements are beginning to happen in a flurry, with a few fundraisers and gala events squeezed in here and there.  Churches have set out their nativity scenes and are set to perform plays, concerts, and the like.  Cell phones are buzzing with the final arrangements of family dinners and so forth.

In the hustle and bustle of all this, and lots more like cards and packages clogging the USPS bags and vehicles, a ton of travelers worry about the weather conditions and whether their flights will be grounded, and oh so much more; many of us will lose our focus, our intention, and our tempers.  Mixed emotions seem to rule the season's greetings as we want to feel peace and joy, but are often annoyed and saddened instead.

Waves of compassion are needed for most of us as we go about our days, stepping thru landmine fraught circumstances and events.  Compassion for ourselves as we do face tricky situations, reminders, and so forth.  Compassion for others as they too are facing their own turmoil, of which we may know very little or nothing.

This month brings births and deaths, sadness and joy, renewal and exhaustion, and so much more.  We feel an ending of another year passing and reviewing our goals for the year, most of us will feel disappointed with ourselves that we didn't accomplish more.  But some of us will be celebratory of reaching and surpassing our goals, of knowing that we did a lot more this year than we might at first give ourselves credit for, of looking forward to spending these last few weeks of this year in the ways we want and carrying forward into the new year our eagerness toward all the possibilities that await.  Some of us know that the many changes of this year that occurred within and around us brought about more personal growth and a more intimate knowledge of ourselves and loved ones, as we've moved on from hurtful relationships, strengthened existing relationships, and forged new relationships.  Some of us have continued to exist, some of us have flourished, and some of us have ground ourselves into a rut of dissatisfaction that will continue until we changes something.

This month, in so many ways, is not different from any other month.  Unless we assign it meanings that make it stand out in various ways.  Most of us will forget that, and feel that these meanings and moments exist outside of us, that we have nothing to do with how we perceive them because this day marks the anniversary of this death, or because that day means that we must encounter this unpleasant person, or because this other day means that these memories will arise and consume us, or because that other day means that we must do this or that.  But in truth, we do get to perceive of each of these days and events, situations, and so forth in whatever way we ultimately choose to do so.  Even if we think that is not so, that IS our choice, too.

So, slow down, breathe, pause, be still.  Give these things thought.  And you decide how you proceed.

Proceed at your own pace

I'm six weeks post -RnY.  Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.  Technically, I could now be eating solid foods, resuming a "normal" diet of foods, and incorporating the new normal into my life's routine.  However, I am pretty far behind the suggested reintroduction of foods to see if I can tolerate them.  It's ok tho, the scheduled stages are meant to be guidelines of the earliest you could possibly move from clear liquids, thru full liquids, into pureed, onto soft foods, and then as of yesterday, some forty days post bariatric surgery, solids.  It's quite alright to take longer, which is a good thing, because it gives me permission to take my time, moving slower thru the textures, and allowing myself to fully heal as I experience every moment of this adventure.

Last week, I started to resume drinking the high density protein shakes that I'd last had several days before surgery, in mid-October.  Most folks begin to drink either the ready-made shakes or customized smoothies using protein powder toward the end of the first week.  It's not that I had problems with the surgery, I didn't.  Rather, I did have problems with dairy and by-products for several weeks after surgery.  Most of the protein powders I have are whey based, tho I do have one that is pea protein, a vegan/plant based option.  However, by the time I took a break from the failed attempts of consuming the protein shakes, I was so grossed out by the taste of them in general, I was loathe to give the pea protein a try.

That meant for the first month, I was failing to hit my protein targets and that was a huge concern with more time passing.  But it's all under control, for now.  Getting my goals every day is more likely to happen than not, I am happy to say!

Yesterday, I was feeling down, not really sick, but just off a bit.  I gave some thought to what was going on for me and I realized that I needed to back off, remind myself of a few things, and give it another go, from where I am, rather than where the average bariatric patient is at the six week mark.  The truth of the matter is, I am not yet ready to breeze into solids, or even most softs, tho purees are more my speed, and the protein smoothies are considered full liquids, while I'm still relying on clear liquids at times.

I also realized today that as far as purees go, half and ounce to an ounce is about all I can handle at the moment.  That's when I begin to feel that pressure and much past that, I will end up paying the consequences of too much, too fast, or too advanced.  I've learned that regurgitation is not a one shot thing; it lasts for quite some time, up to three or four hours in my case.  That means that my stomach pouch has been agitated, stressed, and perhaps even strained for a good portion of my afternoon or evening.

Finally, I asked myself why I was doing that.  Stop pushing, just relax.  Let things progress in a way that feels better and more well suited for ME and my stomach pouch.   Taking that pressure off that I didn't even know I'd been putting on myself feels really good, I must say.

This year, we had decided to not travel, not host, not commit to another's gathering.  It's a bit different, to not see my husband preparing his traditional turkey, slow roaster in the counter top electric NESCO.  I would not have been able to eat it anyway, certainly not the dressing or the gravy that was entirely new to me when I met him, eleven years ago.  I've had gravy with giblets in them, just not with hardboiled eggs and an assortment of stuffs that yields an entire stew pot worth of rich liquid that his kids have eaten as a soup of sorts.

Jerry and I chose to stay home, catching a few things on the TV, like football games of course, and maybe a TiVo'd episode or two of some of the shows we are woefully behind on.  Tomorrow evening, at the Eggbowl, the annual Thanksgiving gridiron face off between Ole Miss and State, is also seniors' night for our players here at MSU.

I'm sure that I will wander off, opting to listen to an audio book {It Occurs to Me that I am America} while crafting a project or two.  Or maybe writing some cards that I remembered this afternoon to address, either mailing them next week or dropping them by when I'm in town, to various folks.  Or doing some other activity like reading a book my husband recommended to me, as it is due on Monday at the public library downtown.

Early in the afternoon, a friend just down the road will be putting dinner on the table for her family and a few friends.  She's invited us both, but Jerry's likely to enjoy the quiet here at home and I will pop in for a bit.  I've never seen a fried turkey up close and personal, again won't be able to try it, but I still cannot quite believe that you can fry a turkey in about an hour.

Today, my husband made me some hummus that is less spicy than the store bought types.  It has a touch of garlic and lemon, but skips over the oils and the heavier ingredients of a typical recipe.  I was needing a bit more fiber than I've been getting, but need it to be still fairly gentle on my stomach, so hummus suits me fine.

He also blended some limas {my favorite veg as a child, it still ranks high on my list, probably right after broccoli} with some ground turkey he had frozen the last time he roasted a turkey.  Again, he watched the spices since that's just not something I can handle right now.  I'm all set for a bit!

Happy festivals with friends and family!  Travel safely.  Remember to take some time to cool down if you are finding things are getting too tense and you are rather frazzled.  And enjoy the time you do have.

Grateful Gratitude

Every morning, my Jerry sends me an eMail with a synopsis of items in the newspapers that he either found interesting or that he thought I'd want to know.  He includes a few comic strip titles that he enjoyed that day, which sometimes I can look up and sometimes I cannot.  I've gotten to take for granted that he will be taking the time and making the effort to do this for me; so when I don't receive it by midMorning, I get a lil impatient, as tho I were entitled to this lagniappe that he does for me.

Earlier this week, I thought about the various things he does that I don't appreciate or express that, in the way that my Jerry deserves.  It's all the lil things that make my life easier, richer, more meaningful, and very satisfying.  There are so many of them, that once I started to give the matter some specific attention, I was tearing up with gratitude.

He's such a good man and so sweet to me.

This week is Thanksgiving for us USAmericans.  The day means something slightly different for every one of us.  In my family of origin, Thanksgiving was our most significant holiday.  There were lots of traditions that we built and put into practice.  For me, as a young adult, even when I was away from my family, I carried on many of those traditions like a full spread of roasted turkey with filling and stuffing {what folks here in the south call "dressing"}, sweet potatoes, succotash, creamed corn, pineapple salad, cranberry sauce {made with fresh cranberries}, and an assortment of pies.  Friday, when so many folks are shopping, I'd be baking cookies and cakes for gifts of appreciation.  Often that baking would continue on thru the weekend and end on Monday with a huge pot of chili, using the left over turkey.

Then there were some life circumstances that tapped my energy and made that a difficult activity to do.  I would sometimes go to others' dinners, but it never quite felt right.  I missed doing those traditions, the meaningfulness that we ourselves assigned the holiday.

Eventually, I met Jerry and our first Thanksgiving was so full of stories, his family of creation's traditions, people, activity, and so forth that I felt comfortable, like the way coming home should feel.  He cooked his three main dishes:  the slow roasted turkey that goes into the counter top Nesco; the huge stew pot of gravy, with hardboiled eggs; and the cornbread dressing.  At the time, I made all the side dishes, the vegetable salad, the cranberry sauce, the limas, and the creamed corn.  I baked bread, using the methods my mom taught me when I was a child, and pies from scratch, worrying over the "foolproof" crust.  And no one ate anything but the turkey, gravy, and dressing.  Eventually, I stopped putting the effort into doing the sides and would completely relax, getting up about an hour before the early dinner at eleven in the morning; showing up at the table, sometimes setting it, sometimes not; and eating, with seconds, sometimes thirds.

Now tho, this year, my husband and I opted to have a quiet day, just the two of us.  I may go visit a friend who has invited me to her place just down the road, and grab a few nibbles of turkey and vegetables.  Jerry and I will enjoy our peaceful home, satisfied with each other and life in general.  He will watch football, especially that evening's EggBowl, the annual tradition of Ole Miss and MSU having it out on the field.  It's an odd year, so the game is here, at State.  I will listen to some audio books, via Hoopla; or crochet or knit; or write; or do all of these activities.  We will be content, just as we are thru~out most of the year, most every day.  And I will enjoy that very much.

Because I've made a point to focus on the people, actions, and things I am grateful for; I have a fuller heart and these are in the forefront of my mind.  We are not traveling, preoccupied with the road, other drivers, the weather, where we are going, what we will be doing, whom we will spend time with, and when we will be returning home.  We are not hosting, preparing rooms, beds, baths, tables, food, food, and more food.  We are simply relaxing, enjoying each other and life.

And I am more grateful than I can adequately express.

Working on Month Two

I'm just a lil over five weeks post RnY now, working on my sixth week.  Some changes I've noticed are that my hips, lower back by the sacrum, and knees feel OH! so much better!  Tho my midThoracic region is a bit tense, which is new for me.  I think I had been relying on the fat to hold my back in an upright position, so now, I really need to work on my posture and strengthening those muscles so that I'm not a limp noodle or the wavy inflatable guy.

I can breathe lots easier, which is good, esp with winter coming on and folks coughing and spewing their germs everywhere.  I've more energy, not so sluggish, getting up earlier and awake, rather than taking time to wake fully and then needing a nap and then not getting to sleep at night.  I've been maintaining a good healthy sleep schedule that allows me to function much better.

My blood pressure is still some high, but I expected that to take some time to moderate into a lower more healthy range.  I'll be going for labs to check various functions and levels in midJanuary, three months out.  I've been hitting all my micronutrient goals, so I'm pretty sure I'll be sitting pretty.

I do need to increase my water intake.  I've been working on it, while not sacrificing any of my other targets, like protein, vitamins/minerals/supplements {like acidophilus and omega 3-6-9}, and my regular medications that I'd been taking pre-surgery {well, pretty much in one form or another for fifteen years now}.  I feel I'll get the water thing this week and then be able to keep it stable at the goal or above.

The lower intake of water explains a few slight difficulties I am having, like constipation and a bit of a weight loss stall.  It's not a plateau, as it has only been a week or so.  It's just my body adjusting and so I'm not impatient or freaked.  But I did have to remind myself that it's normal and not to worry so.

I'm a bit behind the suggested food stages and textures; that's quite alright, it's better to be safe by taking it slowly than to rush things and hurt myself.  So I'm actually more on the full liquids than anything else, tho I do a few soft foods at this point.  Last week, I was able to start the protein shakes again; for the first month, dairy and its by-products {like whey}were not being very friendly with me.  But we've reached a truce and I'm happy to say that altho I don't care for the ready made drinks as much as I do my own smoothies, I am now getting my protein in adequate amounts.

I'm not huge on chemicals and processed foods, but I do like the Syntrax Promina Whey Protein Shake powder more so than the other protein powders that I've tried.  I also have some pea protein vegan powder that I'll be trying in a bit, but not right now.  When I find something that works for my system, I am cautious about switching to something else until I am a bit more stable.

Right now, since I've been eating/drinking slower, stopping when I feel it's time, and consuming things that I know I'm good with; I've not been regurgitating.  That is a HUGE YEA!! me!!  Especially since the wear and tear that 'urping does tends to last actively for three or four hours.  Then I'm pretty much miserable and worn out.

Do something dumb, pay the consequences.  Treat yourself right, feel much Much MUCH better.  Sometimes lessons bear repeating.  Again and again.  Hopefully my "agains" are lots less fewer, cuz I think I got this, for now anyway.

Sometimes introducing new foods doesn't go so well.  That's why most programs recommend doing that at home rather than elsewhere.  Makes sense to me.

It's great that I've lots of support, both near and far.  Thank you oh! so much, for being so encouraging and inquisitive and interested in my monologues which tend to focus on meMeME at this point.  I'm so fascinated by this experience that it seems that's all I can focus on right now.  Eventually the newness will wear off and I'll be all, what's this, and this, could it be, and that, oh that other thing, let's check it out, and there, what's there, come with me and look, oh my!  But for now, that's all focused in the realm of postRnY and what sort of effects that has on the digestive system, the body as a whole, and the communication with the brain and gut.

Tomorrow is Veterans' Day: Thank YOU

  This is a day early, but I wanted to wish all those Vets out there a very significant Veterans' Day.  I know that for some, this is a joyous time.  For others, it is a solemn day full of ceremonies and memories, thoughts of the lost comrades who are no longer with us.  Many find this a day that brings mixed emotions, both gratitude for where they are now and sadness for those left behind, and anger and frustration for the hard fought, hard won benefits that were promised and yet withheld for such a very long time.

So for all the veterans in my life and everywhere, you are important to us all, even those who don't always say, "thanks".  For my sweet husband, I love you so.  I've learned so much from you over the last decade and I'm always so proud of you for so many reasons.  You're more wonderful than you realize.

Swimming thru the Villi

Yesterday was the start of my fourth week, post bariatric surgery.  I'm now technically into my soft food stage of healing and reintroducing foods to my Rumbly Tummy.  However, I tend to still do much better with broths and soups as a whole.  I have tried some other things; but like dairy, most things just aren't agreeing with me yet and I'm not going to force the issue.  Tho sometimes my mouth does write checks my stomach pouch is all like, nope Nope NOPE not cashing that, and oohpsie, it comes back up.  Usually I get myself to the bathroom in enough time, but sometimes what I think is a burp, is substantially more.  Would that be a vurp?

Mushrooms seem to go down nicely, like the ones in the Tom Kha that most any Thai restaurant will serve.  Mostly it's a matter of remembering to take my time and chew thoroughly.  It is SO a learning process; I'm getting better at noticing and predicting.  Most of the sensations are entirely new to me and I am not always sure if that particular one usually means this or if that feeling there is a one off and not likely to occur on a regular basis.  After all, I am still healing and not all sensations are my new normal, some are going to happen only through the healing stage; others are truly wow, ok, I hope that does not occur again.

Since I don't use facebook and other platforms that would have support groups, I rely on a few folks whom I know have experienced either RNY or gastric sleeve and also my own research online to answer a few questions.  If I am truly concerned, I eMail my follow up doc and nutritionist and ask!  They both respond quickly and are very thorough in their explanations.

However, I don't have any major concerns and am healing nicely.  My external incisions, including my drainage port, are healing well and are likely to continue doing so.  My internal anastomoses are, I think, healing as they should be.  I'm experiencing no pain, nor constant pressure or discomfort.  I have no fevers or swelling indicating inflammation.  The only regurgitation occurs when I've eaten too fast, too much, or something that is too soon for my system to handle yet.

So picture a shag rug rolled up so that the plush extensions are on the inside of that tube.  That's what the jejunum is like.  It's the second part of the small intestine and its function is to allow the well chewed tiny bits of food to go thru the finger~like villi that coat the entire inside of jejunum so that all those projections can pull the micro- and macro- nutrients out of the sustenance.  Since that is connected directly to the end of my stomach pouch, it means that if I want food to go thru that efficiently, I not only need to chew, Chew, CHEW but I also need to not drink anything for about half an hour before or after, so that I don't flush the proteins or micronutrients thru like having the water on full force before the plumber's helper has a chance to do its thing in your house pipes.  Or rinsing the dye out of your hair before it's set.  Or any one of the other examples that might spring to mind.

It also means tho that soups and broths and the food that's all soaking wet is easier on my system right now than comparatively drier and substantially firmer white meat of chicken and turkey or raw carrots and radishes or even flaky fish and shrimp.  All very tasty things yes, but not practical at this point.

Baby steps, Debra, baby steps.

Drinking myself into a soup stupor {only you, debra, only you}

The following is an excerpt of an eMail I wrote to my friend this morning, cuz if she will laugh aloud upon reading and then snicker from time to time upon recall.  Cuz that's the kinda friend she is, college friends make wonderful friends for all time, if you cultivate the friendship just right.  {{THANKS FOR BEING THAT FRIEND, Christi!!}}

OMG,  I drank myself into a stupor last night because apparently i CAN'T HANDLE MY SOUP.  Ok, I don't know if you've seen the differences in various ways that a stomach pouch can be created, but my surgeon connected the bottom of my truncated stomach to the side of my jejunum, which is an end to side anastomosis {connection}.  With a gastric sleeve, you've still your pyloric valve at the end of you stomach that controls the amount of the contents of your stomach that flow into your intestines {duodenum at that point, that's the first part of your small intestine}.  So with mine, I have no regulation between my tum and my jejunum {the second part of the small intestine}.  Which means that liquid just flows right thru doesn't get all hung up in this new lil tummy.  Which is great on one hand, it means I stay nice and hydrated as long as I drink my water.  It takes some getting used to on the other, because when it comes to water and similar fluids of that consistency, you don't feel full in the upper anastomosis, which is your brand new pouch.

So that means that about half an hour later, when the soup hit my large intestine, a wave of sleepiness overtook me and so I laid down, not thinking about how that would probably cause said fluid, now mixed with bile and other stomach acids from the remainder of my stomach that is now connected to my second/lower anastomosis just before my large intestine, to perhaps slosh around and backlog into the small intestine a bit cuz my body CAN'T HANDLE THE CONFUSION of what the what is going on here?!?!

Which is so not a pleasant feeling and also meant that like a sleepy doll, when you lay me down,  my eyes go shut and that signifies I am now sleeping.  Or at least in a very groggy state.  As in, better be in bed when you take the dose of nyquil groggy state.  So I staggered to bed, muttering, "see you tomorrow, AquaMan."  Followed with, "stupid stupid stupid"  followed by "soup stupor".  My bed is a long way from the couch.  My toilet is exactly 12 Steps from my bed, as I verified a multitude of times last night because peeing is my body's favorite way to rid myself of any liquid toxins that make it to my large intestines and I was mildly hallucinating about Jason Momoa arising from my bowl of soup with a giant spoon instead of his trident, glaring at me, and proclaiming, "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE SOUP."

Well, it WAS cream of mushroom.  But not THOSE kind of mushrooms.  sigh.

It's a learning process.

My thought process behind Weight Loss Surgery {WLS}/Bariatric Surgery/Gastric Bypass {Roux en Y or RNY}

Next week, my husband and I celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary.  TEN.  Which reminded me how quickly time passes.  My mother, whose birthday would have been yesterday, died almost five years ago.  FIVE.  Again, with the time flying by thing.

My mom had said to me, about two or three weeks before she died, when she was still in the cardiac unit, just days after her open heart surgery that I really needed to get my weight under control, so that I would have less of a chance of facing something like that myself.  I totally agreed.

I should have already gotten a handle on my weight.  Thing was, when I did conscientiously try to lose weight over the years, I'd not only regain the weight, but often another three to ten pounds.  I thought that I'd have some time to get it under control, because I was sure that it was a matter of willpower alone.  And I figured I just didn't have enough.

There were many things that took priority and I was sure that once I focused on weight loss, I'd conquer that just like I had dealt with so much other stuff.  So, when I realized that now's getting down to the nitty gritty for more reasons than one, I considered a plethora of options regarding weight loss.

Here are a few of the other reasons I wanted to address this:  I turn fifty next year.  My mother, and her mother, and her mother all died from end stages of heart failure.  They were all in their early to mid~sixties.  Altho I do not have current heart issues, I am having some slight pulmonary issues, due to obesity.  My joints are wearing, starting to grind, click, and stiffen.  Multiple systems are burdened with the extra weight and not running as efficiently as they could.  I've been borderline hypertensive for a couple years now.  Diabetes runs prevalently in both sides of my family. And fifteen years will fly by in the blink of an eye, meaning that my midSixties are a lot closer than I may have realized.

Also, my husband and I have a wonderful relationship.  He takes after his grandparents {who both lived until they were 98} and is in excellent health, in most all ways except one that is a neurological issue.  I'd like to be around as long as I can to enjoy spending time with him.  And as the neurological issue worsens his ability to learn new tasks, and affects his memory, so that even things he knew how to do become more of a mystery to him; I'd like to be around to continue to have my love enjoy as much of his time as possible.

So my weight has been a HUGE matter of concern.  I moved it to the top priority on my list, really focusing on it.  This summer, I started to do some rather intense research.

My husband had had gastric bypass three years before I met him.  So by the time I came into his life, he was already at the weight his is now, about 155, plus or minus a few pounds.  From time to time, he'd suggested gastric bypass as an option for me to look into, but I was sure I could manage my weight loss without such a drastic move as surgery.   But this summer, I realized that if that were true, I've have done that by now.

If you do have an interest about my findings during the research process, just ask.  By the time I made a much more definitive decision on my own course of action, I probably could have written a dissertation proposal on the psychotropic pharmacokinectics of bariatric patients.  One third of all bariatric patients do take psychotropics of one form or another both prior and post surgery.  So it was very surprising to me that there is limited information available, research studies published in peer reviewed medical journals first began to address this area only about seven years ago.  Most of them agree on two main things:  more research is needed and extended release medications should be replaced with immediate release versions.

Once I had made my decision to pursue gastric bypass surgery in earnest, I contacted numerous programs and facilities with highly detailed questions that most could not readily answer.  This was a great way to narrow the pool of acceptable programs and surgeons.  I spoke with, via live stream video, several surgeons {this is not the norm, it's that the questions I asked were interesting to the surgeons and they were willing to provide explanations}.  Once I was satisfied that I thoroughly understood the process, along with the risks and benefits, I began to consider where I wanted to go.

Let me take a break here and explain that here in the USA, the insurance companies often exert a certain amount of control over what procedures can be performed on particular individuals.  The main priority is not your health, it is lower liability and higher profits.  The bariatric professionals are often NOT consulted or even considered when it comes to policy for the insurance companies, nor are the approval criteria reasonable, in some cases, the requirements are considered unnecessarily strict by those dealing with metabolic and bariatric issues.

Knowing ahead of time this and also that my husband's first wife spent over three years jumping thru hoops, tests, doc visits, etc all out of pocket {the insurance companies do not usually pay for procedures and such that a patient needs to perform in order to satisfy the insurance companies' criteria and prerequisites}, which created more stress and more health problems for her.  She was approved, but many are not; the fact that I have pre~existing {albeit well managed for about fifteen years now} mental health diagnoses would very much count against me.  Only one fourth of those with mental health &/or neurological disorders are approved for bariatric surgery of any type, less so for gastric bypass.

However, let's say that I was approved.  Not counting the out of pocket expenses to go thru the prerequisite process to gain approval; just considering the co~pay alone, it would have been MORE than to go elsewhere to obtain services with higher success rates, fewer complication rates, and better overall healthcare.  So I looked at programs indepth elsewhere.

I ruled out quite a few countries, including Canada, right away.  In the end, I decided on Mexico.  Tijuana has a booming medical tourism industry.  The market for bariatric services is intensely competitive there.  If a program is not good, it doesn't survive.  Too many eyes, not just  those of the health department, but from other programs, facilities, surgeons, and the patients themselves, are scrutinizing every aspect that exists and then some.

Personal opinion can be expressed and seen in evaluations, so I kept that in mind when I did narrow down the programs and surgeons to a mere handful and turned toward reading reviews from past patients and there are always those who "know of" someone who had some horror story to share.  There were some that seemed legitimate and some that were just not quite believable because details were vague or missing altogether or because conflicting factual evidence was easily obtained.

My surgeon actually teaches at one of the foreleading programs that focuses on Bariatric Surgery.  This to me was the cherry atop the whipped frosting on the ice cream cake that I can no longer have, unless it's enjoyment of the memory of such a thing.  I do have those memories.  Yummy.

My package for the program included shuttle service from the San Diego airport across the border to the Tijuana Marriott Bonvoy, Executive Suite; the hotel stay and expenses such as my chicken broth, popsicles, bottles of water, etc; shuttle service to the CER Hospital; the pre op tests, lab work, and other services; the surgery, including all the services like the anesthesiology, etc; the post surgery recovery period, including all medications, and three additional nights at the hospital; all my meals at the hospital; the shuttle returning to the hotel; two additional nights at the hotel, including executive lounge services and my food; a shuttle tour thru Tijuana with extremely well informed drivers who know what the bariatric patients are allowed to have, so we stopped at a place  which served five  types of paletas that were acceptable for us to have; and the shuttle services from the hotel, back across the border to the San Diego airport.  Everything was included for one companion {for me, it was my husband} except his meals outside of the executive lounge at the Marriott.

All expenses, including those listed above, gas to and from our local airport, the seven day long term parking, the house/petsitter fee, and the two round trip flights from Jackson MS to San Diego CA cost LESS than the copay for most insurance companies for the surgery alone {not considering hospital expenses that accrue or any of the other expenses that mount up here and there}.  There were no hidden expenses with the Tijuana Bariatric Center's program.  They are very forthcoming with all the details, including that the hotel asks for a one hundred dollar deposit for your stay that can be reimbursed if you do not run up any expenses such as the minibar or eating at the restaurants within the hotel.  That's pretty standard practice in the USA as well, so no big surprise that the hotel would do so there.

Every one, from the USA coordinator, to the shuttle drivers, to the hotel personnel, to the nurses, to the Mexico coordinator, to the surgeon, to the anesthesiologist, to the follow up Dr, to the nutritionist, every one was an absolute delight to deal with.  I know that not everyone has the same experience, even if the same things occur, because perspectives and expectations are different.  I did a ton of research and pretty much knew what to expect.

There was only one matter that concerned me and I did bring it to the attention of all the other areas of the program so they might be able to consider several other alternative courses of action, including asking the patient to sign a release of liability so that the patient can retain control of their usual medications that they have taken that are not related to the hospital stay or procedure, provided that the surgeon approves the continuation of those medications.  I did get prior approval and would have gladly signed a liability waiver.  However I did surrender my usual medications to the hospital's pharmacy for dispensing to me.  There was an issue with the scheduling of when they administered those meds; however, it was for a limited time, several days, and I was able to reinstitute my own schedule once I was discharged.

This was the ONLY issue I had encountered out of a week's stay in Mexico.  Now I don't know about you, but I have never had any hospital stay, medical in office procedure, etc that went so smoothly as this major surgery involving multiple agencies, including the potential for complications due to language barriers and misunderstandings.  I speak next to no Spanish and yet no one chided me for that; in fact, a couple nurses apologized to me for not speaking very good English, while I was in THEIR country.  Most of them spoke better English than quite a few USAmerican adults whom I encounter every week.

Thank you, to everyone involved.  I appreciate you more than you know.  Thank you.

k~12

Sometimes, I come across some pretty cool stuff on youtube.  I might not always like the every aspect of a video, but I love the creativity involved, the effort the artist put forth, and new~to~me elements that tickle me or make me gasp in surprise.  Melanie Martinez's K-12 is a full length film that is fresh off the premiere list, having just been released about ten days ago.  I'm only about fifteen minutes in and am already loving it.

What think you?

Here's a lil PMJ:

We're basically one week out from the autumnal equinox, when the days and nights are the same length, harvesting continues, growing seasons are dwindling to a close for most produce, and the hot days of summer are a thing of the past.  Well, in theory.  In reality, we're still hitting triple digit figures once the heat index is factored in~~that Mississippi moistness will get ya every time.

Overall though, I do feel less summery and more fall~like.  Maybe it's partially due to football being heavily featured three or four days of the week; which means loud announcers on the TV, constant crowd noise, unintelligible referee calls, football players who sound vaguely like adults in Charlie Brown's world, and cringing dogs huddled under my computer desk.  It could also be the teas that I've been brewing and consuming, all of which have a distinctively autumn harvest or holiday spice flavor, as I was taste testing for selection of teas to offer in our fundraiser teacups and saucers in the effort to bring Moving in the Spirit, a dance troupe from Atlanta, here to Starkville.

Recently, we had our front door replaced and were considering curtains for it.  Mostly, the ones we viewed were autumnly themed, as that's the overarching decor of our home...we like the warm golds, burnt oranges, deep maroons.  I look ahead at the calendar to see what all is on our schedule and in addition to the football games, we'll be attending a PostModern Jukebox show in a few weeks.

Keep On Keeping On

A friend shared this with me today, I'd like to pass it on.  My Silver Lining is the song, written and performed by First Aid Kit.   This video is visually and auditorily stunning, a treat that gave me a lil delight this afternoon.  Maybe it will for you too!

Don't Give Up

When I was about seventeen or so, back in the 80s when mix tapes were a thing, my friend Hal gave me one that expanded my musical horizons quite a bit.  I loved Hal from the minute I met him; how could I not?  He was Jim's partner, together they were witty and kept our kitchen full of laughter whenever they visited my family.  Hal was quiet, thoughtful, a reader, and willing to discuss pretty much anything.  Even after he and Jim were no longer a couple, we remained friends with both.

I'd never heard Kate Bush before he introduced her to me with this duet with Peter Gabriel.  Don't Give Up is one of the most heartfelt songs I've ever heard.  The music, the lyrics, both their voices, and this video simply combine to evoke a complex set of emotions that include encouragement, exhaustion, and comfort.  It's the love that we all long for, an embrace full of care that we can give our own selves...because we were wanted all along, even when we are sunk in despair.  That soothing balm allows my soul to relax, feeling safe and cared for, even when I don't realize that I'm needing just that.  This song has always affected me so.  I can feel my own love and care grow and swell, pouring forth from me in swirls that enfold and cradle.  This song generates so much for me, within me, and I want to give that too.

Hal gave me Bush's The Dreaming, it blew my mind.  When she released The Sensual World, I did a thing I rarely did; I bought the cassette brand spanking new.  I experienced much with Hal, but this gift was the most meaningful, because it calls forth so much, in just a few seconds, so effortlessly.

I miss him so; his quiet strength was so characteristic of him that he maintained it throughout his battles and quick demise.  His death was the first I'd witnessed that bore such dignity and awareness; my first brush with AIDS and the helpless frustration of being powerless to ease another's suffering was overwhelming for me, as tangential as my role had been.  Sweet Hal, oh so gentle, such a good man gone way too soon.  His gifts of then keep giving me so much still.   Thank you.

Summer's End

The summer is cooling down, coming to an end.  Not just according to the calendar, convention, and school year, but also because football season has started and it's now after Labor Day.  The day after Labor Day last year is when I started wearing my Halloween dresses.  I normally detest rushing the holidays, but I had already waited nine months to wear those dresses, which I had bought just post christmas the previous year.

But this past year, I've made a few minor changes to my wardrobe, which was pretty major for me.  For one thing, I tend to wear things for decades.  I also don't really follow fads, or seasonal fashions that are trending.  I find something that I like to wear, that fits and that flatters, that feels good and is comfortable.  Then I get it in every color I can and wear the shit out of it.  This explains why I have this off the off the shoulder, lacy, fit and flare dress in green, purple, royal blue, navy blue, red, and black.

I also have many maxi dresses, thin nylon beach wear that is super easy to wash, pretty much wrinkle resistant, and that makes them the perfect travel garments.  So in March when my husband and I set off on our train trip across the states to San Diego and then cruised thru the South Pacific Islands, flying back home five weeks after we left, the majority of my clothing was suitably tropical.  We had a great time, an ideal way to celebrate our tenth anniversary.

Last year, prior to the holidays, there was a commercial that used Redbone's Come & Get Your Love.  I love that song, it always makes me feel like dancing in that sort of carefree way I did as a child, when it was popular the first time around.  February of this year, I played that song all the time, because it made me feel encouraged, to be brave and go for what I want, even tho I have self doubts, and worry about flaws with my beautiful mind.  It was my "psych me up" song, a sort of "you can do this, cuz it's alright"; I got this.  And I did.

For two years now, I've done an incredible amount of non~stop work, delving into some deeper, scarier issues that I felt like I was ready to face.  It hasn't been easy, it has been messy, I've made some mistakes along the way; but overall, it was so worth it.  And it continues to be a self discovery, gaining some confidence, some experience, some knowledge about myself, and lots and lots of acceptance of all my aspects, or most of them, anyway.

This summer started with a huge revelation that I was unprepared for, but was so thankful to realize that I could experience joy and exuberance, that those emotions were not lost to me and that I was not muted, dampened, or dead inside~~which is what I'd been resigning myself to, as I had been feeling almost affectless for awhile, but not really.  I was experiencing all the not quite pleasant emotions and states, like anxiety, fear, anger, hurt, etc.  But not the sustained happiness or joyful zest that I'd been striving for.  Tho I love my life and my husband, I felt like the happiness that would be completely appropriate to be feeling was absent and I worried that those positive feelings had bowed out, leaving me with the head knowledge but not the heartfelt feelings of grateful, blissful, joy.

So when I experiences the physical sensation along with the emotional feelings, I was even happier because of the discovery that they hadn't fled.  That I could indeed enjoy those feelings and so I really craved them, eagerly anticipating experiencing them more often.  I wanted to learn how to call forth those feelings for myself, when I wanted them.

Immediately, I experienced that in order to be open to feeling those positive rushes, I might experience gutwrenching painful episodes too.  I knew that, but was surprised that even in those times, I was learning more and more about me, being vulnerable to some very deep seated, old fears; like fear of rejection and abandonment.  I attempted something that was and still is, tho less so, scary for me and that is having hope.  It's not that unbridled joyful hope that demands so much trust and faith, I'm not that brave...yet.  But I did take some baby steps and just being aware of it, being able to identify it, was a huge step for me.  It potentially opens me to many possibilities.  That's great, scary, but great.  Some days, not always, but some times, it means that I grow too scared and need to pull back into a safer place and not be so vulnerable, so hopeful.

That means tho, that I can do some counterproductive things, that may not be in my own best interest.  But at the time, it felt safer to not have hope.  It felt safer to think that I should prepare for the worst and not expect the best.  It felt like if I expected failure, then I wouldn't be hurt when it happened.

Over the summer, I tried to not let myself get stuck in that tho.  If I did admit defeat, even if it was for a few days, I let myself rest and rethink, then brave being vulnerable again.  Allow myself to have hope, to leave myself open to possibilities.  It's scary, and it's hard, I won't lie.  Sometimes it takes all I have not to retreat and throw up my shields and guards, cowering behind thick unfeeling armor that demands that I shun my desires, my hopes, my dreams, my happiness in favor of being safely predictable and deny myself pleasure, because having hope is risky.  It means that I have to trust in myself and others, I have to have faith and believe, instead of know for certain.  And that is terrifying for me.

So this past week, I lost my patience, I threw up my hands in exasperation and said, "I give up.   I can't do this anymore.  It hurts too much" and then I did a mean hurtful harmful thing.  Instead of facing the fear and dealing with it, by sitting with it, getting to know it, and being curious about it.  I tried to rid myself of it immediately, I tried to block it and deflect it with that stiff armor that weighs me down and holds me back.  I lashed out, spewing meanness, taking all my hurt and turning it into daggers, spearing another person with my words.  I was so hateful to them that even while I was doing that, I was horrified at my own behavior.

I'm so regretful.  I'm so sorry.  I have no excuses, really.  I can explain myself as I just did, but that doesn't excuse or justify my actions.  And what's really scary is that I did pretty devastating harm.  It might even be irreparable.  The only redeemable thing that I can see is that I am learning, the awareness means that I catch is sooner and that I am less likely to do it as often.  But it doesn't erase what's been said, what's been done.  I can't take that back.

I can only move forward, with the intention to be better more often.  Hopefully, my autumn will see me holding space for hope with out the need for reassurance.  Hopefully, hoping.

toodling and tuning

Lately, I've been listening to lots of music.  Some of it are the tunes I favored in my young adult years, thru my teens, into my twenties~~Melissa Etheridge, Joan Osborne, Tracy Chapman, Sarah McLachlan, Tori Amos, Sinead O'Connor, and a healthy dose of 80s {we were ever that young?!?}.  Some of it is what I grew up with, the records my folks played by artists who have made lasting impact on so many more than me.  These are the Beatles, Pink Floyd, Led Zepplin, Doobie Brothers, Eagles, Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix, Steve Miller Band and what we might now consider classic rock, or even southern rock.  Some are current or fairly recent finds, but most are reaching back thru the years because its not just the music that I'm experiencing, but the memories evoked, the feelings so strongly associated with each of those songs, musicians, albums, time period, etc.

I usually find music to match the mood I am in or the mood I want to be in.  Sometimes I miss the mark altogether and end up thrusting myself into some angst ridden hidden memory that was full of such rawness that it takes my breath away, feeling such compassion for the me of that time, who was so tender, so powerful but unaware or unprepared, or both.  I was able to be with those aching hurting me of then.  Sometimes that younger version of me was experiencing such unbridled joy, that even now just listening to that music and experiencing the memories of that time made the me of now grin and belt out the lyrics with such exuberance that fellow drivers in other vehicles were startled by my flailing arms.

That's the thing about most of the music I've been listening to lately; it begs to be played while I am alone, in my car, driving and riding, thru town, along back country roads, taking in the sights of lovely lush Mississippi summer verdant fecund vegetation and stopping in the tunnels of tree limbs arched over me into protective canopies that soothe my soul like the best balm ever.  There are a few locations in the area that I've discovered in my ramblings and if I go there at the right time, just as the sun sets, or the dusk dims the heat of the day, or as the rain swollen clouds darken the skies, I feel as though I can taste life right at that moment, a slice of being completely present right then and there.

So if you see a ten year old, slightly dented and worn, dusty hatchback in your neck of the woods with a woman emoting her bliss, her ecstasy, an odd sort of angst that harkens back to times gone by, chances are it may be me, driving along, singing my song, wandering around, checking the sights, enjoying our summer while it lasts.

Reluctant Reactions Regarding Ravelry

 

While today's Mallard Filmore's comic message {which is a headline from Business Insider} is not exactly the truth of the matter, it is the way many folks are interpreting Ravelry's zero tolerance policy regarding hateful speech, texts, pictures, avatars, etc. from their members, toward their members.  So yes, while they do focus on Trump supporters as an example of this sort of behavior, their policy has been contorted beyond belief with many folks up in arms because this is a very emotional issue, with lots of fear and shame involved.  Tempers flair, anger and blame erupts, and the original point is lots in all the recriminations and voices wanting to be heard.

So, to be fair, Ravelry does specifically target those who post their support of Trump in their recent policy.  {“Note that support of President Trump, his administration, or individual policies that harm marginalized groups, all constitute hate speech.”}  However, they go on to clarify what the policy means, including "You can still participate if you do in fact support the administration, you just can’t talk about it here."  I think in large part, the overwhelming Trump relevant posts in the past have been focused solely on exclusion, hate, and intolerance.  This tends to incite the verbal, text, visual, and virtual equivalent of riots as things escalate quickly into the heated realm of personal attacks, threats of actual violence, and further destructive division.  So Ravelry's admin stepped in and adapted a policy that specifically addresses this type of nonproductive conflict.

I have mixed feelings regarding this.  My first reaction, a gut level, emotion driven response was a resounding sense of relief and a vague sort of victory.  This was quickly followed by a wry "yeah, but this is going to have lots and lots of backlaah".  And then my "let's think this thru" parts spoke up with reluctance, which is different than my "yeah, but" parts that are very tentative at voicing differing opinions when I know they will not be well received by those who I generally agree with.

However, my tribe where I feel I truly belong gets it, they might not agree with it, but they totally support that I have a right to my opinions and so for that reason alone, most are willing to listen to and think about what I have to say.  True belonging allows you to voice dissension and still be accepted and embraced, so long as you express your own points of view in reasonable ways without personal attacks and while respecting others.  Many shy away from conflicts, voicing differing opinions is often associated with huge confrontations, because that is what their experience has been, even within families, with friends, and other loved ones who responded with rejection or intolerance.

This ties directly into Ravelry's decision to specifically cite Trump supporters.  While I completely agree that intolerance and hate are futile and destructive, I'm not amiable to acting against hate and intolerance with further hate and intolerance.  Seems counterproductive and hypocritical.  I'm not exactly sure what the answer is, but I am pretty sure this is what it is not.

We cannot foster discourse that allows us to learn, understand, and clearly communicate with an aim to unite when we reject and ban others from the conversation by expelling them from the gathering altogether.  I understand that for the most part, these postings on Ravelry were not fruitful discussions, as most of them were hate~mongering; but to respond to those individual cases with a generalized discrimination of an entire group by equating all Trump supporters with hate, bullying, and intolerance is itself promoting self selection and sweeping intolerance.  So while I understand the good intentions, I think the actions may have been off kilter and missed the mark.

What are your thoughts?  Comment below and share!

Vulnerability

No one likes to feel the discomfort of being truly vulnerable.  Allowing ourselves to sit with fear, shame, and discomfort is an incredibly brave gift we can give ourselves when that is done with love and clear intention.  All fearful situations are not the same, tho they might feel and evoke similar sorts of sensations and reactions; so I encourage you to learn to differentiate between what is a dangerous situation that is harmful and a discomforting situation that is not.

I'm not talking about fear due to a dangerous situation, such as abuse~~that fear is a good thing because it is designed to save us from being in that sort of situation in the first place or helping us to sharpen our wits so that we can either flee, stop, or prevent the danger .  Fear can be a survival tool, alerting us to those threatening elements that might cause harm.

However, that is not the fear that I'm focusing on here.  I'm talking about that fear of judgement that prevents us from being true to ourselves, allowing our authentic selves to be expressed and seen.  Fear of rejection, fear of ridicule, fear of shame, fear of thinking we simply are not good enough.   This fear can allow us to deny ourselves, causing us to be deeply ashamed of some aspect of ourselves.  Some part that ourselves is afraid that if we reveal it, others will judge us and we will not be accepted or loved~~so we shun that aspect, we might even loath that about ourselves.  This fear is also trying to protect us from being emotionally hurt thru rejection.  This fear can prevent us from expressing our opinions, our preferences, our needs, our desires, our thoughts, our feelings, and so on and so forth.  This type of fear can cause us to judge our own selves harshly, can cause us to stifle our own thoughts, can develop into significant problems as we experience inner conflict, confusion, anxiety, and all the physical sorts of sensations that the other type of fear triggers too, such as palpitations, trembling, sweating, pupil dilation or contraction, difficulty breathing, paling or flushing of skin, nerves tingling, and so forth.  Our minds and bodies react to fear as fear, not differentiating between situations and whether this fear is a good thing because there is real danger present or fear that may be further harming ourselves, preventing us from being our wholehearted selves and perhaps experiencing something wonderful because we are allowing our true selves to be seen, putting ourselves out there.  Being vulnerable to the risk of rejection by being our honest true authentic selves is a huge deal.

Why is that important?  How can that be a good thing?  Why risk the danger that we might be judged, that we might be rejected, that we might be ridiculed, that we might be found to be less than perfect and flawed?

Well, peace of mind is essential.  Inner conflict that can arise due to fear of exposure and shame can cause anxiety, which then triggers more fear, which places incredible amounts of stress on our physical system and our mental well being, as our mind and body interprets that as danger and we are in a constant fight/flight/freeze survival mode.  We need time to fully recover from those intense reactions that cause spikes in blood pressure as our system shifts the flow of blood from our organs to our muscles, tensing them, which can cause spasms that can develop into more severe physical trauma and damage that is harder to address the more often this occurs~~the longer we stay in this state, the more harm we do to ourselves.

So in the effort to prevent rejection from others that will cause hurt and shame, we are then inflicting enormous amounts of pressure on ourselves, resulting in harming our own minds and bodies.  This vicious cycle can become a way of life, as we hurt ourselves more and more in the effort to be accepted and loved by others, who we fear might reject us and not be supportive, loving, and caring of us.  We are rejecting our own selves because we fear others' rejection.  We become more disconnected from our own selves, thrusting ourselves into turmoil, inner conflict, anxiety, depression, and other harmful manifestations to our own well being.  As the chaos within seeks release and relief, we might feed addictions, lash out at others, creating outer conditions to match our inner conditions which may have already been a result of some outer condition.  So the cycle goes and grows.

So what do we do?  How can we either slow this down, stop this, and be better to ourselves and others?  The key is allowing ourselves to be vulnerable, to be curious about our own inner thoughts, feelings, and reactions~~to feel the fear and examine it, to lean into that fear, walk into it, to sit down with it, to give ourselves the time and safe space to look at the fear directly to see what is at the heart of it, why are we experiencing this dread, this fear, this overwhelming choking sensation that is catapulting us into frantic frenetic reaction to avoid this fear, to make this fear go away?  And yet, that doesn't seem to work, the fear grows and grows and we become more and more avoidant, trying to deny that fear of our own selves, to cut that piece down or out, to shun it, to scream it into submission as it grows and grows and grows, til we fear the fear that might swallow us whole.

Once we can examine that fear tho, we might begin to heal, to diffuse the fear, finding it is manageable and not nearly as terrible as we once had thought.  We might learn some valuable things about ourselves and begin to express those aspects, braving rejection that might not actually be present and if it is, do we really need or want to be around those that cannot not and do not accept us for ourselves?  If we can feel the fear, be brave enough to look at ourselves,  be vulnerable enough to allow others to see ourselves, risking their judgement, we might find that they accept us, embrace us, love us.  Or not.  Their rejection might hurt, it might disappoint, it might mean that we have to realize that they are not supportive of us in that way and that perhaps we will want to find others who are supportive, who do love us for us, just as we are.  But that hurt that results from others' rejection is probably going to be way less harmful than the hurt we are already inflicting on ourselves while we are squashing our own selves in the effort to fit in where we don't thrive, flourish, are accepted with all our quirks and perks, and belong.

Yesterday, I was incredibly vulnerable, time after time, in various circumstances, as I faced my own fears and encountered some rejections, yes, but way more acceptances.  As I received others' praise and accolades, I felt loved and validated; but even more importantly, I felt the satisfaction of my own self expression.  A certain calmness bloomed within and I clicked into place, coming home to myself in a more complete way that allowed me to breathe deeper and more freely than I have in about a month or so.  I felt my inner turmoil quiet and dissipate as I'd reached some resolutions for my own self.  As I bravely risked rejection by allowing my vulnerable self to be present, to be seen, I also found acceptance, true belonging, and love within myself, for myself, and because of myself.  The acceptance and love from others?  It's great too, yes; but it was like the icing on the cake of my own deliciousness.

Being brave and having the courage to be vulnerable doesn't always manifest in such huge momentous ways.  Sometimes, I feel vulnerable just expressing a different opinion than the group consensus.   Sometimes the discomfort of expressing a boundary instead of allowing it to be violated can feel incredibly dangerous, as I am risking that the other person may grow angry, rejecting me in that moment.  This can be a minor but still important things, such as seeing to my own self care rather than seeing to someone else's.  But I do it anyway, because if the matter causes inner conflict, than it is important enough of a matter to pay attention to and examine.  My own healthy well being and peaceful state of mind is worth my attention, worth my acceptance, worth my showing up and being present, worth my vulnerability, worth my brave courage, worth my own self care in the face of others' judgement and possible rejection, worth my own support and full acceptance, and worth my own love~~because I will always be there for me, even if it takes awhile for me to show up for my own self because I was too scared to risk vulnerability, eventually, I am here for me, and that's essential and worthwhile.

Aren't you also worthy?