There are some problems, or challenges, that I simply don’t have.  Take opportunities, or resources, for example.  When  people ask me about how I home educate my son, the first question I often get is “Where do you get resources?  Is there anything available outside of regular school books?”  I want to reply, “Honey, I’m drowning in resources —- figuring out how to swim in that abundance is the problem, NOT the lack of resources!”  Or with health issues, some people say to me, “There’s not much they can do about osteoarthritis [or fibromyalgia], is there?  You just have to suffer through it.”  Again, my desired response is more along the lines, “There are lots of possibilities, actually, and many different things work for different people.  I could spend almost all of my waking hours researching those possibilities and then trying out all the ones that might fit for me.”

My favorite (?) question is, “You’re home all day — whatever do you do with all that time?”  “Oh, my,” I think.  “You really don’t have any understanding of what my life is really like, do you?”

It’s somewhat embarrassing to “complain” about having too much.  Years ago, when I worked at the sexual assault center, I was in the enviable position of needing to spend a good chunk of government funding before the new fiscal year started.   It was one of those situations where if we just gave back the money, we would lose that funding for not just that year, but for all the years in the foreseeable future.  The needs at the center were just too great to not use all the resources we could get.  It was overwhelming.  The year before I had been bringing in chairs and other supplies from home because of the center’s lack of resources, and a year later I had to look for ways to spend money.  Trying to do this responsibly and with accountability was challenging, to say the least.  I coined a new word then, “overwealmth”, a combination of “overwhelm” and “wealth”.

So now, twenty years later, I find myself in another iteration of “overwealmth”.  I have plenty of books I can barely wait to read, plenty of interesting people who are either friends or possible friends, plenty of home education supplies both online and in print, plenty of possible activities for both myself and my son, plenty of. . . .  lots, actually.  And that is wonderful, no doubt about it.  The challenge is to choose, mindfully and responsibly, how to use the precious few hours of each day.

Sometimes I feel a strong conviction about pursuing some option.  Alas, I seldom feel strong convictions about any particular book or activity — all seem good and delicious and full of possibility!  But not to decide is itself a decision, as event dates come and go, or particular books get lost among the piles of other great books.   I have developed a short series of questions that do help me decide, and I offer them to you in the hopes that they may be helpful.

First of all,  am I interested in doing it, or do I feel I “should” do it?  I remember not to “should” on myself, and then ask how much, on a scale of 1 to 10, it appeals to me.  Do I feel I ought to do it?  This time, I mean “ought” in a positive, responsible way, not in a societally or culturally pressure-filled way.  Where does this fit in with my current top priorities?  If it doesn’t, is it a possibility that I have the interest and time to explore?  Can I do it physically?  Can I do it pragmatically, within other obligations of self and family?  Who benefits from my doing it?  Is it within my circle of influence, or my circle of concern?  Are there any coincidences that make an initial urge stronger?  These questions aren’t in order of importance, nor are they the only questions.  But just those questions help me eliminate a lot of “shiny objects that grab my interest”.  And also, of course there are sometimes things I feel strongly I ought to do even though I don’t want to do them, like caring for myself well regarding diabetes, or leaving enough time to wind down at night so as to allow a better night’s sleep, or stretching and exercising, etc.

Here’s my most recent “Exhibit A” which called for this kind of discernment:  I have been invited to join a book club.  It really appeals to me, up around an 8 or 9 on my “interest scale” because the facilitator is an interesting, intelligent woman, and because the book that the group is reading is one of my all time favorites.  I would just love to hear what other women are thinking about that book, and to be able to discuss it with them.  On the other hand, I feel so short on time that the last thing I want to do is to take on another commitment, and a commitment with homework at that!  As well, my days are fully committed, though there is some flexibility.  Then, as our family has only one car that dear spouse needs to use to get to work, all extra outings need careful scheduling.  And finally, the book group meets over the lunch hour;  we have our main meal at lunch.   Going to the book group would entail figuring out how to get our meal cooked and shared with enough time to attend the book group and get back in time to finish the homeschooling in the afternoon — oh, and get Andrew to and from work, too.

Then the coincidences started piling up:  Since the book currently under discussion, and the possibilities for the next book, are ones that I love or have wanted to read myself, there wouldn’t really be much extra homework.  And getting there and back would fit into Liberty and Andrew going to the gym for their regular exercise, just a block from where the book group meets,  so no extra driving is needed.  The meal could be prepared ahead of time and carried with us, with the guys having their lunch at the library, which is smack dab between the gym and my meeting, while I eat my packed lunch with the women at the book group.

So!  I want to do it. I can do it both physically and pragmatically.  It fits in with my other commitments and priorities.  Many benefit from my going, not least of whom is Liberty, who likes to hang around the library.  And it will be within my circle of influence.  I’m going!

Dear Kind Reader,

Whenever someone learns of my health challenges, the compassionate ones want so badly to help ease suffering.  They recommend health products, herbs, diets, medications, exercises, counselling, physiotherapy, etc., etc., etc.

While I appreciate the sentiment behind it, and am glad to know of new possibilities that just might help, I need people to know that I have tried many, many therapies, natural as well as allopathic.  Some have helped; others not.  It’s been going on 30 years that I’ve dealt with these chronic challenges, and I’ve seen many therapies come and go.  I now have a regimen, or “rule of life”, that keeps me functioning at my best.

So, dear reader, please know that you don’t have to “do” anything about my health challenges.  I thank you for your best thoughts and ideas, but also please don’t take it as rejection if I do not follow through on any suggestions you might offer.  Chances are, I might have already incorporated them into my life.  My challenges are not new to me and I’m working with things the best way I know with the knowledge I have now.  And it’s all okay — or at least okay enough.  Life’s good.

With thanks,

Cat

Dear Reader,

One of the things I find perplexing about chronic pain is that the best way I’ve dealt with it is the wrong way for a longterm strategy toward my pain.  Historically, my main way of dealing with it has been to do my best to pretend it isn’t there, and to just carry on with my life.  Gritted teeth optional.  Mind over (my) matter, and all that.    Mind over mattress, too, to keep me from becoming bedridden.  Once other kinds of organic tissue damage had been ruled out, I kept telling myself that though the pain was real, there was not much to be done about it, so just keep on keeping on.

Which (sort of) works, until the dear body just won’t cooperate, and more or less collapses.  The pain has gotten so bad at times that it has been impossible to focus on anything else at all, no matter how hard I’ve tried, and no matter how compelling the distraction.

Now, the very best way to avoid getting into that kind of state is to pay attention to the intensity of my pain, and to modify my activity, stimulation, and thoughts on a constant basis in order to help my dear nervous system calm down and stay calmed down.

But paying attention to the pain means that instead of paying attention to all the other wonderful things in my life, I need to pay attention to that which I most want to distract myself from.  Paying attention to my pain makes me realize just how badly I hurt much of the time, and to tell you the truth, that’s pretty depressing.  To sidestep depression I need to focus on other things — the 1001 truly great things that are happening just about every day.

So, to sidestep pain and depression I need to focus on the rainbows splayed on my walls caused by the bright cold winter sun streaming through the front windows.  But if I lose myself in the joy of that, and then become inspired to create a Renaissance doublet out of the upholstery remnant I got at the discount store, I can overdo it.  I’ve mindlessly stretched in too many new and funny ways wrestling with the cheap fabric that melts under the iron, and coaxed my ancient sewing machine to shape the sticky fabric for just too many hours.  The next day my regular achiness is notched up 3 or 4 points on the subjective 10 point pain scale, and muscles I didn’t know I had are saying “What in tarnation did you do to me?!?!” pretty loudly.

Now, having practiced mindfulness and meditation for many years, I know better how to face and accept my body/mind’s reality at the same time as I notice the rainbows inside and the icicles outside.  I better realize how subjective is each of our experiences of the world “out there”, because it is always mediated by the conditions of the world “in here”.  At the same time that I know more, I know less, because while I can discern my own triggers and stresses, I cannot say with any assurance that they will be your triggers and stresses.

So, as the saying goes, “your mileage may vary”.  You really can’t take anything I say here as definitively “the truth”, yet I may very well have ideas and approaches that may help.  I hope so.  That’s the reason I’m writing, dear reader.

In paradox,

Cat

It began in mystery and it will end in mystery, but what a rare and beautiful country lies in between.

Dear, dear Reader,

Are your Monday mornings as challenging as ours?  Most probably so, as Monday marks the beginning of most of our work weeks.  My son, Liberty, always feels awful, just dreadful, on Monday mornings.  I get up on weekdays earlier than I’d like in order to get our homeschooling days up and running, and I feel rather dreadful, myself.  I hope you are laughing with me!

“Courage!” dear reader.  “Courage!” I tell myself — I’d like to say this to Liberty, too, but I know I’d get “the eyebrow”.  I think you know what I mean.

Truly, although Monday mornings are often awful, how wonderful it is to have a safe home, the freedom to be with and to educate my son, and enough health and heart to live it.  There is plenty of food in the house, and all is well.  Or, well enough.  I hold in my heart, too, those who do not have these things.  How fortunate we are, those of us who have this.

Whatever challenges you face, whether a new Monday morning, or something much more serious, be encouraged. Cor, from which we get the word courage, means heart in Latin.  Reach down into your heart for what you know is there:  the ability to look reality in the face and the virtue to change what can be changed or to accept what cannot.  If you fear that you will not find that in your heart, then try to hope for it.  I do believe it will come;  it’s a capacity rooted in deep human experience, and this wisdom passed down throughout all of history will not fail you.  Oh, it might take some time, for sure. . . . that I also know.

So.  To look reality in the face, and to let not your heart be troubled:  your mission today, if you choose to accept it.

With love on this Monday morning,

Cat