Roll, Adapt, and Carry On!

2016 has been a year of changes and challenges.  I’ve always prided myself on my ability to roll, to adapt and carry on.  Then this year, hormones happened.  I found myself in unfamiliar territory.

Women often take care of everyone but themselves.  It’s easy to fall in to this habit, especially when we are part of the sandwich generation.  We have children to raise, relationships to nurture, and aging parents who need care.  The children have extra-curricular activities that demand more and more of our time.  There are bills to pay, dishes and laundry to do, and significant others who need attention.  Somewhere within our 24 hours each day, we are supposed to exercise, eat well, and get enough sleep. And when are we supposed to fit in “me” time? When am I supposed to fit in sufficient writing time?

I don’t know about you, but there are not enough hours in my day to get it all done, let alone do it all well!

The beginning of my end was a routine doctor appointment.  I knew my blood pressure was up that day, but when it was high enough to alarm the nurse, I tried to brush it off as white-coat syndrome.  I think I might have had her fooled until she asked if my children were healthy.  Both of us were caught off-guard by me suddenly dissolving in tears.  Thankfully my NP is like a friend.  My words tumbled out.  What a relief to finally be able to say all the things I hadn’t even realized I needed to say! 

She admonished that I need to take care of me. While it’s admirable to want to be superwoman, I have to take care of myself FIRST.  Physically and mentally.  Soon, a low-dose anxiety medicine had me feeling more in control. I was sleeping again, had energy to exercise, and was even motivated to eat better.

Then life threw me another curve ball, and although it was expected at some point, I wasn’t quite ready. My youngest moved out.  While I’m feeling empty and unneeded, my hubby is feeling his oats and acting like he’s 18 again!  Adjusting to an empty nest has been… interesting!

By making myself a priority again, I've found it easier to juggle the responsibilities on my plate. Daily walks, drinking more water, trying to eat better, and sharing my concerns with Hubby and trusted friends all contribute to feeling more balanced and capable. Writing has become even more important because it's a creative outlet for me.

Changes and challenges will probably continue, but I’ve rediscovered my ability to roll, to adapt and carry on. 

Do you have any tips for keeping your life balanced?  Please share!

Connecting with Life's Curveballs

Life has a tendency to throw curveballs at us.  Sometimes we swing and connect.  Other times, we strike out.  

Urban dictionary defines a curveball as “A particularly difficult issue, obstacle, or problem. Named after the equally tricky baseball pitch.”

Long work-day hours, car problems, family crises and illness are all things that can derail our writing intentions.  Learning (and accepting) that we can’t control these types of things, even if we want to, can be a hard lesson.  We roll along, fully expecting events to play out in a normal fashion – normal being relative.  We try to mold people and events so they unfold in our own personal grand scheme.  We live by Plan A.

And then that curveball comes along, smashing our expectations to smithereens. 

Caught off-guard, we are not prepared to deal with the changes going on around us.  Not that we should be pessimistic, but curveballs tend to throw us into a funk, stopping us from living our lives as we normally would. We become distracted, and miss taking advantage of opportunities presented to us.  What is Plan B?  Do we need a Plan C?  How are we going to get through the immediate difficulty and bring our lives back under control?  

Curveballs don’t have to be bad experiences.  Learning to deal with difficulties helps us to grow, to expand our horizons in ways we might not otherwise have considered.  We must learn to adapt, because as much as we went to, we can not control everything in our lives. 

So how can we learn to use those curveballs to our advantage?

Take time to cry, to vent, or to be frustrated.  Validate your feelings:  believe in yourself, and know that it’s okay to feel the way you feel.  But also recognize that not everyone will feel the same way you do, and there’s nothing wrong with that, either.  Then, get creative and find ways to rejuvenate and stay positive.  Learn from the experience. 

My 17-year old son recently set a great example for me.  Last week, only one month before high school graduation, he broke his upper arm playing dodgeball.  They tell us it’s the worst break you can have.  One week, two splints and a brace later, the doctors finally (hopefully) have his arm set so it can heal correctly.  The arm is immobilized, preventing him from normal movement; from any movement with that arm.  No writing (how will he take final exams?), no driving (it’s embarrassing to be driven around by mom and dad), and they want him sleeping upright (not comfortable).   He’s facing 8-12 weeks in a brace, and even then will not be fully healed.  But throughout the last week, he’s faced each day with a smile, determined to adapt so he can accomplish the goals he has set for himself.  

My son is making a connection with that curveball, and inspiring me to do the same. 

Welcome to the New World

I relate to the predicament of Doug Heffernan in one of the scenes from an episode of The King of Queens sitcom. Doug is lost in the woods, but he comes across a bridge that will take him to civilization. Problem is it's a flimsy, swinging bridge over a deep gorge, and as he crosses he feels insecure. At one point when it seems like the bridge may break, he hollers to his wife standing on the other side something like, "Helicopter now!" The bridge feels unsafe, insecure, not good for him and he wants immediate rescue back to solid ground. He even contemplates retreating back the way he came from, back into the woods.

I relate because I feel like I'm in transition in my life, have been for a while, and I want security. I want the helicopter to rescue me from uncertainty and having to try new paths. I want solid stuff to stand on. I want to be able to count on getting what I need when I need it. And I want important people in my life to stay, not disappear for various reasons.

Here Today, Gone Tomorrow
I think it might be human nature to long for stability and constancy, but it doesn't seem like we get it much, at least not right now. The whole world is in gigantic transition, and we can't get back to the Disneyland we thought we lived in. There is no president or king or queen or CEO who takes care of us all and makes sure the world is safe and secure, a place where we can live our lives in peace and harmony and prosperity. There are no sure things. There is no template for success because things are changing so quickly. There is no longer the promise of a job for life with a pension at retirement. There is no longer the promise of owning a home that grows in value. Change has always been the way of things but the speed of change has accelerated to a rate that it feels like I'm living one long transition.

Transition is apparent in my work as a writer, too. It's harder for a freelance writer to find work that pays well. In the great recession, freelance budgets were cut and in many cases eliminated. And for romance novel writers, the world of publishing has been in flux for a while. Whether we survive and prosper or not might depend on how we manage transition.

Getting from Here to There
It amazes me that creating the life I want, my new world, can plunge me into discomfort. Surprise! Change prompts transition. Personally I don't find it very comfortable to try to navigate transitions. It sounds exciting, "I'm in a process of transitioning from the old to the new. I welcome the new." However, change doesn't necessarily happen the way I expect and it doesn't necessarily occur rapidly and effortlessly. It doesn't feel good to be in the in-between. It can feel like nowhere with nothing to stand on. The confusion can engender different survival tactics. Nancy K. Schlossberg, Ed.D writes in Psychology Today about the ability for transitions to move us to take action, any kind of action, to relieve the anxiety.

"Transitions waiting to happen include uncertainty, ambiguity, and loss of control. The future is always uncertain and ambiguous and according to Daniel Gilbert, author of Stumbling On Happiness, we are poor predictors of the future. In addition, we imagine different scenarios but cannot control all the variables."

In the midst of a changing landscape, we can see various survival tactics employed among authors. Some are venturing out with gusto to try new things and trusting the ground will be there when they need it. They may be brave and confident as well as in denial of their true feelings of fear and loss—but as long as they don't look down "Everything is fine." Others may batten down the hatches and try to insist that the best way to weather change is to follow familiar paths and hope for the best. This is a terribly simplified description of ways to deal with transition, but I relate to both. I don’t want to look down—feel the fear of the unknown and contemplate failure—when I'm trying new things and I want to follow the same path, because typically familiar, though maybe ineffective, is comfortable.

Getting Real
In her article Schlossberg writes that transitions can feel like life is on hold, and she lists typical ways people cope during transitions, like during illness and when losing old friends. Her list of coping strategies includes rehearsing for the future, going to Plan-B and acknowledging the transition.

"Living a life on hold is not easy. There are no end points in sight, yet it is a transition that many men and women face."

I think being aware of what I'm feeling is one way to weather transition, but it's not easy. In our culture we've been taught if you're not happy it's time to get out of Dodge or go to Disneyland (whatever that may mean in the moment—eat a cookie, change jobs, leave old friends). I'm not picking on Disneyland. It's a metaphor for avoiding what's real and maybe scary and painful, escaping the crappy present moment we're going through. But sometimes we need to consider waiting, pausing, sitting with what is and not judging. Letting other writers do what they need to do to weather their changes and be there for them in the way we can. Take care of our health, get out in nature, sit with the dog or cat and chill. Transition is going to happen, so being aware of its nature and what we're going through can relieve the pressure of trying to control things we can't. Then we might be better able to make transition.

OK, now I sound like Obi-Wan Kenobi. But it's what I believe I've learned as I've been in transition in many ways. Transitions offer possibilities and at the same time can feel like crap for a while. Acknowledge them and be open.

Or as Obi-Wan would say, and did in Star Wars: Rest easy, son. You've had a busy day. You're fortunate to be all in one piece.

Image Bridge into the Mountains from Dreamstime