Sadness, Stress, Hormones, Urgency

Saturday evening I started writing about the Boston bombings.  I was struck with an urge of creativity and began a piece that is harsh, raw, brutal...just like the reality of what happened to the people who were injured during the explosions.  Not being squeamish, I sought out and found the worst of the worst pictures.  I do not know what prompted me to see such horror, or to witness the kind of pain, shock, awe, terror, horror, bravery, and response that all the people who were there saw and dealt with. But for some reason, I just needed to see it.

Last Monday, prior to the bombings, I had risen early and gone to Kettlebell.  I had gone to work.  At lunch, I couldn't decide whether to run, or walk, or lie on a rock and do some grounding, or whether I should drive the 20 minutes up into the Jemez and soak in the cold river.  After some deliberation, I decided that cold-soaking is what I wanted, so I headed up into the mountains.  When I do this, I experience several levels of emotion.  Guilt for driving so far for such a short period of time.  Guilt and some worry for not telling anyone where I am going.  Protectiveness over what I'm doing and the reasons for doing so. Excitement for the rush I get every time I set myself down in cold water. Peace at being in the car alone for a little bit of time.  Contentment at my own thoughts and my ability to discern them.

I arrived at the river and was surprised to see the Forest Service gate open.  Due to the parking fee, I decided to park on the highway, which always feels a little exposed, despite the peacefulness of the mountains.  I hiked a short distance up stream, began to feel a little uncomfortable, like I shouldn't head up so far, turned around, and ended up at the same spot I was in last time.  Only on this day there were no floating ice bergs and most of the snow had melted.  I set down in the water and kept my Vibram barefoot shoes on since the water was so cold last time that my feet were numb for over an hour.  I was surprised at how well they insulated my feet.

The wind was howling and blowing fiercely all around, even in the narrow chasm that makes up this portion of the river. I watched trout bite at the small insects flapping around on the surface of the water. I heard a tree crash down the hillside, which made me jump, and I quickly tried to discern if it was a tree or a bear.  I decided it was a tree, and settled back in for a little longer.  The cold water makes my skin tingle in a pleasant way.  The sun was bright, despite the roaring wind, and warmed my shoulders and face. Finally, I felt it was time to leave, so I got out, air-dried, let the sun warm my whole body for a few minutes, and then headed out.

On the drive back to town, I kept feeling a strange sense of foreboding.  I've felt this before.  I didn't know if it was my financial worries, the wind leaving me unsettled, the continued drought that terrifies me at a deep, unexplainable level, or my work that continues to be uncertain and shifty. I felt like crying for a little bit, and even had tears well up in my eyes as I passed through the Valle Caldera and wondered at its amazing beauty.

Back at my office, my co-worker asked if I'd heard about the marathon.  I quickly got on to the news and saw what was unfolding.  Instantly I recognized that hyper-premonition feeling I've had for other hard-to-fathom events such as Boston:  the bombing at the Olympics, Columbine, the Cerro Grande Fire that destroyed my home and my mountains.  My intuition had sensed the events, even though I didn't know what was happening on the other side of the country.

Because I run, I felt an indescribable feeling of devastation about the Boston bombings.  I couldn't understand why anyone would target an event like a marathon.  I don't know why anyone would target any event or place anyway, but a marathon is such a feat of endurance and physical ability that is seemed blasphemous for such a tragedy to take place at one.  That same morning I had heard an interview on NPR with people from Newtown, CT who were running in honor of each of the children killed during the Newtown massacre.  The interview had made me tear up on my way home from kettle bell, the first time I'd teared up that day. I must've cried twenty times before the day was over.

Speaking of tearing up, I'm certain that I've been undergoing all sorts of hormonal issues lately. For the most part, I'm pretty even keel.  But lately I've definitely felt like I've been on some sort of hormonal roller coaster, at least compared to how I've been for years.  I seem to be fluctuating each month.  Lately, I've felt somewhat flat.  Like something is missing. And I feel more easily saddened by things that I might not bat an eye at otherwise. This is different than the pregnancy-related crying over diaper commercials...the sadness feels like it's swimming on the surface; easily touched.

I read way too much, lately, and so I've been attempting to self-diagnose, which is seemingly a waste of time.  I think my pregnenalone is low, my progesterone is low, my cortisol is high, my estrogen is high, but not too high. These conclusions are are inconclusive because I haven't done any hormone panels.  The fact of the matter is that I have very few symptoms of hormonal imbalance.  My only real symptom that seems to cross each and every hormonal issue is irritability.  Anger. Lack of tolerance. Grouchiness.

These symptoms are emotions. But they tend to feel overwhelming when I can't pull myself out of them.  Lately, it seems, I've been pissey more than I've been happy, and that is very much not like me.  Everything else related to hormones is relatively stable.  I sleep well in general. My menses are as regular as ever, PMS symptoms are typically the same, and not in the least debilitating.

So, really, I need to get my blood drawn.  I need to consult with a real doctor who can make a real determination. I want to know what I can do to eliminate the never-ending grouchies.

But so many other things tend to fall into play.  A job that is uncertain.  It's been 18 months of not knowing whether I'll be employed for the next month.  I've been told again that come June 1st, I might be out of my current job because our program is $12 million short and subcontractors will be the first out the door. Never mind the 20 or 30 managers and other highly compensated people who have nothing to do.

That sort of stress is precisely why I'm working on launching my new business, which I have worked hard at, but still need to devote a tremendous number of hours on, which is also stressful, but important. I want to do what I want to do. The business now has shape, and I needs to put the pieces together.

So I need time. Time to put it all together. Time to complete my book proposal to coincide with the launch. Time to get my website developed and flushed out. Time to put my packages together.

Time does seem to be spinning ever faster, and I wish that I could slow down the clock whenever possible to eke out the most of every minute and hour.

Tomorrow, I will sit down and create a priority punchlist, and see what I can get done.

Finally, I've been feeling an urgency to get my shit together financially. I tend to ignore things and then they bite me in the ass.  It's time to stop ignoring things, and get some issues taken care of, to be responsible like the adult I am.

While reading Thich Nhat Han today, I realized that much of what I've been experiencing the past month or so is rooted in fear.  I've not been observing, acknowledging, and moving on.

Thus, it's time to be more mindful. I cannot walk the walk if I'm off floundering around and not being mindful.  I needed that reminder today, more than ever.

Here's to moving forward.

Schedules and Change

I'm a creature of habit. This past month, it seems that all my consistently scheduled activities have all been rescheduled.  It's very weird.  The strength class I've done for 5 years changed locations and days.  Our Tae Kwon Do class that has been on Tuesday and Thursday at noon for 4 years, is now on an entirely whacked-out schedule that I don't even know yet.  But it's not Tuesday and Thursday.  Oh yeah, and it changed location, too.  Because of these two changes, everything else is changing.  Except for swimming, I think that nothing is interfering with my Tuesday/Thursday morning swims.  At least not yet.

I've been amazed at how these two changes seem to be affecting my brain and my body.  I've worn grooves in my habits and now I've been thrown off course.Which is likely a good thing.  Change tends to lead to more change, more wisdom, more experience.

To celebrate all this change, I decided to add a kettlebell class to my weekly routine.  It starts at 6am.  That, right there, is probably the most assertive change I've made in my life: committing to a 6am class. For me, that was a more difficult decision to be at peace with than ditching all grains.  This morning was the first class I attended.  I did not drink any wine last night.  That was a good thing.  My youngest daughter decided to change her bedtime routine.  Yikes!  I knew that would bite me in the ass.  I went to bed at midnight, after about 1.5 hours of falling asleep, and waking back up in the kid's bed.

I never use an alarm.  Ever.  But I decided that since I slept like a boulder yesterday morning, I better be on the safe side.  I woke up exactly 2 minutes before the alarm went off.  Yay to my internal clock! I got up, made a delicious espresso with full-fat pastured cream. Changed into my workout clothes.  Drove up town to the class location in the dark.  Drank in the little sliver moon that was muted by some wispy clouds.  Arrived at the class, alert and pretty ready to go.  It was super fun.  Hard.  A couple of friends are also in the class, and I haven't seen them in a while, so it will be fun to be in a regular routine with them again.

I got home at 7:15 am.  The house was silent.  Everyone was still asleep.  I made another espresso.  Packed my lunch, changed into my work clothes, and headed off to work.  What a whole new concept!  I'm pleased with myself for committing and pleasantly surprised by how I feel.  I think I can make this a new habit!

April 22 of 2012 began the start of tremendous change.  It's been nearly one year since I uprooted my diet, ditched my daily consumption of beer, started meditating regularly, endured the stress of potentially losing my job on a daily basis, and began working diligently towards finding my true path in life, you know beyond this government-funded hazardous waste clean up gig I've held for the past 20 years.

Yesterday, while sitting in the little spring-fed pool watching the water scooters swim around and mate while fending off the predatory water beetle, I kept thinking that I'm trying too hard.  I'm doing too much.  I'm trying to do EVERYTHING.  I'm feeling a little stressed about it.  I signed up for a half marathon that is coming up fast, yet I haven't been able to take a run longer than 4 miles.  Our weekends have been booked, and then I got sick.  I ran on Monday, and felt like I had lead in my shoes.  I ran yesterday, but couldn't muster up enough motivation to do a real run, so I ran up the canyon to the little spring, soaked for 30 minutes, and then ran back.  That's not a real run.  But the soaking is so much more satisfying.  I leave there energized, revitalized, at peace, grounded, in tune.

I am doing so much.  I am working.  I am launching my new business.  I'm finishing my book proposal.  I'm preparing my presentation for AHS 2013. We're unschooling. I'm a chauffeur. I'm a mom.  I'm a wife. I have a house. I have chickens. I have a dog. I'm tyring to help my company win new work. I'm working on getting my website up and running.  In between all of that, I've been studying, researching, absorbing information like a sponge. Trying to get a good night's sleep each night. Trying to fix excellent dinners most nights. Battling my cravings for beer and wine most nights. Planning for my future. Planning for my kids' futures. Trying to consolidate debt. Preparing for the new classes I will be leading. Running. Swimming. Grounding. Tae Kwon Do. And there is so much more I could list, but seriously, is that even palatable?

No.  I am doing too much.  I think I should drop the race.  I can't think of one other single thing I can drop.  If I don't train for the half, I won't feel guilty for not running more. 

Yesterday, while soaking and grounding, I reflected on the me I once was twenty years ago.  I was still trying to do what I really wanted to do, and biding my time at my job in the interim.  Never would I have thought that I'd get to twenty years later and still feel that same drive to do what I want to do.  Shit!  We even did what we wanted to do by starting the D.O.M.E., and building a successful outdoor shop and guide service.  We just hadn't predicted the Cerro Grande fire, nor all the consequences (READ: CHANGE) that would take place in our lives as a result.

But back then I wasn't doing too much. I was doing just enough.  I worked my hours.  I dreamt up business ideas in the evenings. We had no kids, so that was a huge time-saver right there. I did Tae Kwon Do. I biked. I climbed. I snowboarded. It was pretty freakin' simple. 

So, as my life has changed, my schedules have changed, and I have changed, I realize that maybe, just maybe, I need to work some slow-down time into my life.