Health – drjuls

21Aug

Julie LyleBalance, Gratitude, Health, Life Challenges, Mindfulness, Personal Growth, The Journey of Life

Facing Up to It

“Did you lose consciousness?” asked the ER nurse taking my blood pressure. “No, but I kind of wish I had!” was my bruised blend of sarcasm and agony.

Two hours earlier: I was relocating river rocks from one side of the backyard to the other. I started off cautiously, shoveling a few rocks into two large plastic painter buckets. Then powerlifting a bucket in each hand, I shuffled to the other side of the yard and deposited the rocks to their new location. I was a slow motion, sweaty old milk maid.

Our wheel barrel, seemingly from the 1800’s, had a flat front tire. I couldn’t help thinking we must have another garden variety wagon to transport the rock filled buckets. I searched and located a dusty low lying five wheeled circular flat dolly and I was in business. Setting the bucket on the roller’s round surface, just inches from the ground, I filled it to great excess, able to increase the quantity tenfold! I shuttled my payload to and fro, pleased with this clever system—bending at the waist, leaning forward and gripping the sides of the hefty rock filled bucket I was able to push this makeshift quarry to be dumped in its new territory.

Quite proud of my ingenuity, speed and efficiency until…one of the wheels caught on a slightly raised edge of cement along the racetrack, I mean garden pathway, abruptly stopping all forward motion except for the rocks, bucket and me. Gravity paired with hundreds of heavy rocks, leaning forward and my tight grip on the sides of the bucket, careened me to the unforgiving cement, face down. I am sure there is a clever scientific formula which reads…

gravity + momentum + hundreds of rocks + “I’m pretending to be a flexible, gymnastic flipping 25 year old” = @#%$& + bruised elbow, scraped knees, gravel cuts on the cheek + one very broken nose.

During the two weeks of bed rest, qualifying for the Quasimodo lookalike contest and having my ENT doctor pretend I was Rocky as he reset my nose, the post-injury mental baggage claim circulated and I watched each item with its individualized name tags; Shame – Blame – Regret as they rotated on my internal conveyor belt of self assessment. Why did this happen and how could I have been so careless and yep, unaware of the risks?

The lesson hit me right in the face…literally. I was doing too much, too fast, too many rocks in my bucket, too unaware of the possible pitfalls of a wheel getting stuck. I had not adjusted. I became too comfortable with what I thought was working and increased my load, accelerated my pace and became more invigorated with finishing than focusing on the moment. Sound familiar?

Life can get heavy and we often react quickly to manage, move and dispose of the burdens we carry. Racing around the track of life, loading more than should be pushed, we fill days up, tumbling, dulling awareness, getting scraped, bruised and perhaps broken.

This is when CHOICE is a necessary container and INTENTION a powerful vehicle. Choice means to thoughtfully assess what is the task before us, how much can we really carry and do ALL the “stones” really belong to us or could some be carried by another? Intention is the focused energy applied to the task, with consistent evaluation of how we are doing, feeling and progressing.

In reference to our late 50’s, early 60’s aging process, a friend recently spoke about making each step deliberate. Yuk. I used to simply leap saying “yes!” and not pausing to consider labor required. Each step, task and endeavor included spontaneity, speed and voila, accomplishment. Are you kidding, being deliberate seemed the counterpoint to “just do it!” Waiting for the CT scan to confirm if I had a concussion or brain bleed, well, let’s say I faced up to a few realities.

As my recovery progressed, the swelling abated, purple tinted black eyes morphed to a jaundice yellow hue and new items came into view on my baggage claim of emotions; Gratitude – Relief – Acceptance – Deliberate.

I appreciate and value my brain; there was no head injury. I cherish having a body that moves, swims, dances and hugs; the only break was my beak. I love to smile and laugh broadly; relieved all my teeth are still in their original spots. I deeply love this one deliberate, beautiful life and focus my intentions to face up to it every day.

03May

Julie LyleBalance, Diet, Fitness, Gratitude, Health, Life Challenges, Personal Growth, The Journey of Life

Transformation Part 2: Stop, Stand and Start

It was time to grieve the ending of my complacency, avoidance and magical thinking. High scores and bigger numbers are welcomed results for academic exams, bank accounts and maybe even “likes” on Instagram, yet not on a blood test for cholesterol and glucose. Numbers don’t lie, yet I had been doing quite a bit of falsifying the discomfort I felt in my own skin until the “H” for “high” on the computerized notification really represented, “Hellooooo, is anyone home???”

I had to stop being a negligent homeowner who doesn’t stay on top of necessary maintenance. Buckets of grief filled over about a four year period, absence from exercise, working more and playing less, and indulgent eating habits I’ll blame on the pandemic. All of these and more contributed to my home “body” being less than structurally sound.

We can sit in the driver seat of our intentions, yet don’t have the key to get started. Or, we fill up the tank of our motivation vehicle, yet run out of owning its purpose only to abandon the expedition on the side of our lives. Here are a few examples of those who STARTED at various ages and stages of their lives:

Audrey Hepburn stars as Eliza Doolittle in the film version of My Fair Lady – age 35
Mark Twain publishes The Adventures of Tom Sawyer – age 40
Gustave Eiffel completes designing the Paris tower that will be named for him – age 56
Betty Ford opens up her self-named clinic for substance abusers – age 64
Michelangelo designs the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica, Rome – age 72
Barbara McClintock wins the Nobel Prize for Physiology for her revolutionary work in genetics – age 81
Mother Jones, union organizer, writes her autobiography – age 94

To start a change is to gather the sticks of self-kindness, the kindling to ignite living differently. We can contemplate how our “home” gets neglected, how the “fire” was extinguished, yet action ultimately comes from stopping, standing, answering, listening, believing and waking up. I had to find the KIND in kindling to ignite personal change, stand up and respond to the deeply knowing self that was calling to be better, healthier. At whatever season of life you currently occupy, it is completely, most assuredly, in the present that we must start where we stand.

Where do you stand today? It is not easy to finally stop, stand in front of your denial and know something needs to change. What needs to stop so that you can stand and answer the call of what you must start? Is there a relationship needing renewal? Career efforts requiring inspiration? Physical laments calling for attention? Creative possibilities hungry for attention? Emotional challenges demanding healing? Life transitions asking to be acknowledged and accepted?

Here were my kindling items:

Focused Energy – Plan, purchase and create healthy nutritional supplies

Investment – Make self-care a daily deposit of ingestion and activity

Return – Telling the truth to myself, revisiting core values of physical health

Encouragement – Self-soothing messages to make healthy choices

Since September 2022, my numbers are all less…pounds, cholesterol and glucose. The “H” for high has retreated from the scoreboard. By gathering KINDness for myself, I experienced fulfillment in the midst of deficit. Acceptance led to action. Action fueled transformation. Transformation generated energy, renewal and a reminder…all things are possible when we choose to be kind to our bodies, hearts and minds.

06Apr

Julie LyleBeautiful Life, Diet, Gratitude, Health, Life Challenges, Personal Growth, The Journey of Life

Transformation Part 1: Stop, Stand and Start

Last September, I knew an aspect of my life needed to come to an end. Looking back, it was more about stopping certain behaviors and habits more than starting something new. I had reached the finish line of being uncomfortable in my own skin.

In 5th grade, I towered over classmates and had an inspirational teacher who always encouraged me to “walk proud, shoulders back” as I would slouch to be compatible with my shorter pals. Fortunately, due to genes, I always fit in my counterpart “jeans” pretty well, until I didn’t. Throughout my 40’s, I held steady, fluctuating a bit here and there, with affirmations from friends who would say, “You are so tall, if you lose or gain weight, I really can’t tell, you always look the same.”

Traveling quite a few decades from my 11 year old 5’4 self to last September and well, I most certainly did not look the same. Grief over my mum’s passing, my son launching off to college, hormonal aging, potato chips, Covid, more ice cream and less movement had weighed heavy on me…literally.

A stanza from an early 1900’s poem by Berton Braley entitled Start Where You Stand came to mind in considering this idea of personal transformation:

“Start where you stand and never mind the past,
the past won’t help you on beginning new,
if you have left it all behind at last.
Why, that’s enough, you’re done with it, you’re through.”

The first word of this title really says it all. Start. Wherever you stand, is where you must start. Not in the past, where old footprints and memories remain. We cannot change our life experiences, our story up until today. It has been written, inked, the legacy has traveled through time. No, we cannot go back and start from a former reality. Where we are is where we start.

Nor can we start in the future, for the “what if’s” are merely a vague sketching of what could be. If we only aim toward tomorrow, we risk missing vital aspects of where we stand and what we feel in the moment.

My body had been polite, slightly nudging me out of one size of jeans to the next. Then my eyes would spot a photo and I’d delete. My body started to ache, hurting at my rejection of paying attention. When I received blood test results, I had to stop, stand, be very still and start to listen.

It was time to grieve the ending of my complacency, avoidance and magical thinking. It was time to start caring for myself differently.

End Part 1 – Stay tuned for Part 2

13May

Julie LyleBalance, Beautiful Life, Covid-19, Gratitude, Health, Life Challenges, Mindfulness, Personal Growth, The Journey of Life

Build the nest, for the bird of hope needs a place to rest.

Build the nest, for the bird of hope needs a place to rest.

Many arriving on the therapeutic couch are weary travelers, stretched to capacity and fatigued having marched across a risky, unknown terrain for over two years. The pandemic, workplace demands from home, challenged by new dimension of effective parenting, rising costs of supplies and since February, a harrowing war in Ukraine; violence and abject suffering within each click of an iPhone. Mt. Peace and Mt. Harmony are distant summits, barely visible, climbing elevations seemingly, hopelessly out of reach.

What happens when we lose our grasp of hope’s existence? Shaking our heads and wringing our hearts, is the concept of “losing” hope synonymous with denying hope? When we deny that hope exists, our thoughts become an internal “Whack a Mole” game. With every glimmering pop of hope, we grab our hammer of despair and whack it down.

Hope: a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.

Denial: the action of declaring something to be untrue.

Perhaps “Hope” thrives when we become more paced, patient with our expectations. Scale back from the quest to reach the peak of global Kumbaya (albeit a righteous aim), try on more “Hope” and wear it for awhile.

With that, an Emily Dickinson poem archived in one of my college literature brain cells, landed in my cerebral inbox.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers
By Emily Dickinson

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –

I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.

Dare I be as bold as to challenge Emily, yet I believe “Hope” IS asking something of us. The bird of hope needs to be greeted with a warm, welcoming nest, to find shelter within our hearts, our minds, our souls. “Hope” needs to be fed by our belief in healing, wisdom, learning and striving to be courageous. “Hope” needs to be quenched with the belief we can be kinder, truer and better.

“Hope” exists when it has a nest in you.