Category Archives: health

Jul11

the world is made of spider webs

Posted on by
Standard

“When I’m an old lady I want to be one of those women that has a house full of plants, weird rocks and crystals. That just looks after her animals, paints and minds her own business with her crazy hair.” – unk

Well I don’t know who said that, but I am that woman now! It’s the second week of July already. I’m getting around to spring cleaning. Better late than never I suppose. For starters, it’s been a little-shop-of-horrors-like around here for a couple of years now. I seem to have a green thumb (I am an old witch, after all.)
I take home little forlorn plants from the grocery store clearance for $3. and two years later there is nowhere to sit in the same room. One small monstera I brought home (it had tipped over and lost half it’s dirt) is now eight feet wide and ten feet high. Seven years ago I bought a foot-high Norfolk Island Pine (indoor only in my climate) to use as a tiny Christmas tree and it’s almost hitting the ceiling now. My son helped me move the plants out to the back deck the other day. They aren’t coming back in. I need to find homes for them. Removing them has opened up every room and it feels so spacious in here I could dance. No really – I could actually dance in here.

This is a small house. Originally built as a summer cottage by a University of Michigan professor, the idiot I bought it from tore out most of it’s original features and knocked out walls to create an open floor plan. If you don’t know how I feel about that you might read some of my older posts. Suffice it to say that open floor plans are an abomination of the human spirit. They suck the dignity out of relationships by unnaturally forcing everyone in the household to share the same noises and smells. It feels like living inside a shoe box. Open floors plans are for worms…just sayin’…

But I live in an open floor plan, because, well, it was the right house in the right place. The plants apparently like this arrangement. They have taken over, spreading from the studio to the kitchen and the living area to the dining area. And down the stairs and across the ceiling. This ends now. I’m taking back my home! I love nature, and I will always have a few plants. But this has become ridiculous. I’m ducking and penguin-ing myself around them.

For my next trick, I’m deep cleaning all those creepy corners I haven’t been able to reach or crawl into. Getting all the spider webs and tumbleweeds of cat hair out. Eeeeewwwwww…and I have taken down the curtains and washed them. Everything has sticky dust. And I wonder why I’m so sick all the time?! Twelve loads of laundry later and the place is looking like new.

So here’s the thing. I’ve read a bazillion books on decluttering and feng shui-ing your space back into order. Psychology journals about how decluttering helps your mental health. And I’ve always done it throughout the years…in little increments. It has never felt like this. Maybe because I’ve been ill? It’s true that I’ve never let my home get this dirty and cluttered before. But something about this is coinciding with a huge shift in awareness.

A few months ago I participated in a Beta test group for a program designed to help older women traversing life changes. I’ve mentioned it here briefly, and I will provide a link for you at the bottom of this post. It’s called the Wayfinding Road. I don’t know what any of us were expecting, but this process with this group of remarkable women has been beyond helpful. The small group I was working with included a recent widow, a woman retiring and moving across the country, a woman whose husband was ill, one who had left the country and relocated to Europe, one who is a political refugee in exile. All manner of circumstances – one uncompromising commitment: a life of continued growth. We quickly realized we had much in common despite a wide variety of life experiences. Soon after the 6 week program began I started having dreams with these women in them. And my dreams were fantastic, adventurous and profoundly healing. I was wealthy beyond measure. Something supernatural was happening. We discovered we were all having experiences we could not explain. We started calling it “magic” for lack of a better explanation.

I have never met any one of these women in person. I have interacted with them only online and via email. If one of them called tomorrow and said “I need your help,” I’d be on a plane. They taught me how to love myself. I’m done with depression and shame and guilt. They taught me how to stop performing my life and begin to live it, deeply. They are well educated, articulate. Some of them speak more than one or two languages. They are all extraordinary. The 2nd time we met I confessed to feeling unworthy of their friendship – but I knew I had 2 choices: drop out or show up. I showed up and they lifted me higher.

I hear them talking to me in meditation, telling me precisely what action to take to heal myself. This morning’s meditation told me that my chronic pain and illness serves only to remind me that I took on the responsibility for my family, and that it is long past time to let them go. Not only can I not be responsible for them, but this addiction to saving them is not helping anyone. I gave it up today and got out of bed pain free.

My life has begun to change now in the last few months. Not in any way I had planned. It’s still going on; it’s a process. I don’t know what this means or where it will lead me. Watch this space. But wow…change is afoot.

Lynnelle Wilson is the creator of Wayfinding Road. Contact her through YouTube or Substack:

Jul8

…forget something?

Posted on by
Standard

As it happened, my phone that is way smarter than me created a “video memory” all by itself, and sent it to me this morning. It was titled “Arizona and Illinois.” It was a short video account of the road trip I took this spring, a few short months ago. A good friend was moving back from Arizona to Michigan, and I had offered to “help.” In retrospect, I don’t think I was much help, but we did make the move. I flew out 2 days before the movers were scheduled. We finished the little bit of last minute packing. And when the movers pulled away we got into her car and left Tucson for Traverse City.

Two seventy-something single women driving across the country in a white SUV…what could possibly go wrong?! Haaaaa…actually, everything went quite well. We had to drive through the northern Arizona mountains in a blizzard…but other than that…She was driving when we hit the blizzard, so she drove us right through it. I’ve always said that if you can drive in Michigan winters you can drive in anything. Well, that, and learning to drive in Detroit in the 1960’s. Believe me – I can drive anything anywhere. But I digress…

A few things struck me about this phone-created photo montage. The first thing I noticed was my face looked weird. My face has been looking weird for awhile. Pinched is how I would describe it; almost a grimace. Puffy. Swollen and pinched – as if I were in pain. Because guess what?

You know, your body adjusts to pain. It does it’s very best to compensate and keep you upright. And you think you’re dealing with it when you aren’t. I don’t look like myself in those photos. I was in pain. I was also sick. I had motion sickness on the airplane on the way out to Tucson. That came on suddenly and completely shocked me. I’ve traveled all my life on boats and planes and I’ve never had motion sickness. I love flying.

Once on the ground I seemed fine, but I wasn’t really. I was just distracted; there was a job to be done. I am sure I was moving slow and I know I took a lot of breaks, hence my thought that I could not have really been much help. But we managed.

We had to push through the blizzard in the mountains and so decided to spend a couple of nights in Santa Fe and decompress, maybe get some rest. I love Santa Fe, but I seemed to have been adversely affected by the altitude on this visit. It was my birthday that weekend and I was being treated to dinner at Coyote Cafe. But I had to return to the hotel room immediately afterward and crash. Not only was I not much help, but now I was also not much fun. There is a possibility that I was actually a royal pain the butt. It’s been known to happen.

Fast forward almost 3 months and it hits me: I was going to use that trip as a jump start to my new-found health and creative life. Oops. I seem to have forgotten that. The slide show also reminded me of a piece of art I saw in Santa Fe that I intended to come home and use as inspiration for a painting of my own. What is Santa Fe for if not inspiration?! I forgot it altogether.

It would seem that I quickly forgot all the changes I wanted to make upon my return home. I slipped right back into my clunky old life, my poor health habits, and my outdated ways of thinking. But I know better. The old ways haven’t worked for a long, long time. And hence yesterday’s post about basic self care. Self care isn’t indulgent. Without it I have nothing to share; I can’t even show up as the friend I want to be.

Jul7

walkin’ my talk…

Posted on by
Standard

For some odd reason, this July 4th holiday has been a wakeup call for me. It isn’t that I didn’t know that it’s the middle of the summer…and sorta the middle of the year…but this year it hit me hard: it’s half over! I’ve never made resolutions at the beginning of a year, but I did have some ideas of how I wanted to make changes in my life. I do have goals for myself, not the least of which is improved health.

My health has not improved. It had been a struggle. I wake most days in quite a bit of pain. Headache, nausea, stiffness and pain in my back and hips primarily. But it moves around. It seems to “settle” in the joints I slept on. I’ve been referred now to a rheumatologist. But there are things I can – and will – do to help myself naturally. Some of them are as simple as getting into a warm shower immediately upon waking. Well, after feeding the cat, of course. It actually helps a lot. But I had gotten out of this habit, drinking coffee and checking emails and watching YouTube videos instead. And putting off a shower until after I had done housework or yard work. And taken some Tylenol. Tylenol is not a good habit.

It isn’t working. Let me rephrase that: I am not working. My body is not cooperating with my plans and my commitment to said plans gets delayed…and delayed. My life is on hold until I feel better. Insert rolling eye emoji here…

Pain is a formidable opponent. So is depression. And they often hang out in the same circles. It’s time for some new companions. Like determination and curiosity…and hope. Where to start when you really just want to go back to bed? Start small. But start. Change a habit, maybe two. Return to the basics of self care. As much as I hate to admit it, I have to go right back to basic basics. I have no long term practice of self care. In fact, I’ve had to figure out what that buzzword even means. I was never taught.

So, I will get right up and into a warm shower every morning. Then I will make my bed. I will drink a glass of water before coffee. In fact, one big change is leaving out the cream and drinking my coffee black. It sucks all the joy out of life, but I can do it for a time. If I don’t put milk in my coffee, it is easy to give up dairy. That comes with some dietary changes, again small, but significant. I’ve pretty much given up sugar already and cut way back on carbs. I don’t buy bread anymore; I do eat some gluten-free pasta.

I’ve been writing intermittently. Waiting for inspiration to strike; it isn’t coming. I will go back to writing daily. Daily. Morning pages for starters. I know this works. WHY don’t I do what I know works??!!!! And then, we WALK. Julia Cameron stresses it constantly. Christ, she’s written books about it. Just fu*#ing WALK already! I had an ah-ha this morning as I headed out the back door – I feel guilty about going for a walk, as though it’s self-indulgent if I’m leaving behind housework and a messy yard. That’s where my energy should go. And there I go, shoulding on myself. There is NOTHING self-indulgent about going for a walk. It’s basic self care.

Jun24

the temple of my belonging

Posted on by
Standard

Well, it’s been Crisis Intervention 101 here again. S’always sumpin, innit? But we’re through it intact and life is calming down. And cooling down, finally. Although we are still at 98% humidity. Normal for Michigan this time of year. As we say here, we only have two seasons – winter and July. July just began a week early. The crowd of tourists are all back in town. So I avoid town. They do serve to remind me to get out and enjoy the beauty around me.

This is the draw, and I’m so close to the shore that I can see the tip-top of a 400′ sand bluff from the bottom of the driveway (above the trees). It’s about 1/4 mile to the lake as the crow flies, or a mile downhill to the beach. I love my views, downhill in 3 directions. I have one immediate neighbor to the north, but this is a weekend summer home for them. Because I don’t have many windows on the north wall, I often realize they’ve been and gone only because they set out their trash bin at the street for Monday morning, and I gladly roll it back up the drive for them. They do many nice things for me, like mowing the back 40. I may struggle financially, but I am wealthy beyond measure surrounded in this beauty.

If I’m honest, it is a constant worry that I no longer seem to have the physical strength or financial means to maintain my home or property. We are both tired and worn. So often I will look at the real estate online to see what I might find that would be easier to grow old in. But every time I become overwhelmed with sadness. I love my home; I just want to take proper care of it. I love where I live. The ashes of my sweet pups are buried in the garden, their final romping place. My elderly kitty is the mighty king of his domain and I’d love him to live out his days here. It’s quiet and peaceful and safe. And the roof has started to leak…

I’ve often wondered why home means so much to me. Other people I know seem far less attached emotionally to the place where they dwell. In my dreams I am frequently in my childhood home on the Detroit River, long expanse of lawn lined with 3-story-high willows swaying in the breeze. Hundreds of peony shrubs perfuming the air, sunrise over the river. In a surreal way I felt somehow more connected to the natural surroundings than the people I lived with. There’s more than a few therapy sessions needed to unpack that realization!

And in hindsight I confess that I stayed far too long in an abusive marriage because I didn’t want to give up my home. Home. It’s really all I have ever longed for…a home of my own. Heaven for beginners.

Jun10

Are you all in?!

Posted on by
Standard

So, since I have recently been through yet another health crisis (tired of reading about it? WOW, am I ever tired of talking about it!) I have been researching natural healing modalities. And spiritual healing for my symptoms, particularly auto-immune diseases that affect the eyes. And my YouTube feed, ever trying to find something to sell, has suddenly evolved to include spiritual healing channels. Another AI generated video caught my attention today. It doesn’t seem to have anything to do with the eyes…but my spirit has been trying to teach me to “fall apart at the SEEMS” for years now.

One of the secondary issues with spending far too much time incapacitated is that my tailbone hurts. My back is stiff and the aches and pains seem to make a rotation throughout my joints. For the most part I ignore them. They are not the source of my dis-ease, and I want to get to the source – because I want a cure. But my tailbone is painful. I have to carry my little donut cushion around with me if I want to sit.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I think medicine is full of miracles, too. I am still going to see a rheumatologist and may end up taking the heavy hitters, the biologic injections. Meanwhile, I will begin here, with all the natural self care steps, and continue my quest for healing on all levels.

When my son was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma as a teen, I wanted him to do all that medicine had to offer. One of the reasons that Hodgkin’s has a high success rate is because they treat it so aggressively. Surgery if possible (which he had) followed by maximum chemo and radiation. They bombard the body with all the poison it can possibly handle. He still lives with some of the negative side effects – but he’s LIVING.

At the time, my sisters fundamentalist church offered him a healing prayer session. He took it, of course. We were asked to attend a service on Sunday and to stay after to meet with a group of practiced prayer healers. Standing at the front of the sanctuary they encircled him, laying hands all over his upper body and praying quietly. But apparently one of the prayer leaders had left the room immediately after service. And suddenly he walked back in, walked quickly up to Steven as the group allowed him in, aggressively banged his palms onto Steven’s chest and let out a roar. Steven said he felt the cancer leave out through his back. And that was the moment he knew he was cured. He KNEW. He still went through all the grueling treatments. Because healing is not an either/or, half-assed attempt at life. It’s all or nothing.

Jun5

…and smoke.

Posted on by
Standard

Petrichor and lilacs…and smoke. The rain let up yesterday evening, and today we have had to close up the house. Despite delightfully cool temperatures, the air is thick with the smoke from the Canadian wildfires. I have gone from loving the smell of the rain and blooming lilacs to an air quality advisory. Now the weather report includes the “smoke map.” The stars are no longer visible in the night sky.

“Sensitive groups, such as those with respiratory issues, are advised to take precautions.” Like what?! Stop breathing?! Suddenly (or not) the world has become a scary place. I don’t say that lightly; it is not lost on me that it long has been for many people. Let alone nature. God help us.

It is five a.m. as I write this. Later this morning my air conditioners will be installed and run – not to cool the house (the current outside temperature is fifty degrees) – but to filter the air. Many people here live without air conditioning as it isn’t frequently needed. Or, I should say, wasn’t. Again, the privilege not being lost on me. It’s the wildlife I’m most concerned with. Especially the birds. Especially the migrating birds, heading north this time of year to summer in Canada. Where do they go now? I fear that I sound ridiculously naive, and perhaps I am…perhaps I am…

And so, fear triggers in me a reminder to pull back. Pull my energy back into my body and focus on the present moment. Remember that each breath is a sacred gift. If again I sound naive, so be it. I am reminded by Tiokisin Ghosthorse that it is not so much my lungs that I should be concerned with. It’s my heart. My heart hurts.

Jun4

petrichor and lilacs

Posted on by
Standard

My son says, “It is always a Michigan June in heaven.” It’s been a chilly spring. The heat is running this morning in the first week of June. We had dramatic thunderstorms last night and it’s still raining. But I keep a window cracked so I can smell the rain soaked earth. And the lilacs are blooming.

The lilac shrub out back is half the size of the house. I suspect it was planted around the time the house was built, which was 1955. It was traditional at that time to plant lilacs next to the driveway to welcome guests. The driveway has since been moved and the lilacs have flourished. They are spectacular.

I am in bed this morning with a vase full of them on the nightstand, coffee and my laptop, writing to you. Finally, having again been chronically ill for the last few weeks. I am better, but not well. This time I cannot avoid the doctor’s argument that I need to travel to see a specialist. I can cope with pain, but my eyesight is at stake. And let’s face it – the most qualified and well intended medical professionals still don’t have much to offer. The rheumatologist recommends I take a biologic. It is a treatment for symptoms; I want a cure. I’m stubborn like that.

But this morning I lay here breathing in the smell of rain and lilacs. The well fed fat cat is trilling and rolling around upside down on the floor. My son is here making blueberry pancakes and bacon for breakfast. Don’t tell me this isn’t heaven.

Feb25

from survival to mastery

Posted on by
Standard

Thank you, Dear Reader, for being here. I’ve gone AWOL again. But I’m back with renewed determination and fortitude. When I go offline here it means I’ve gone offline in my life. I’m in survival mode. It never ceases to surprise me, because, well, I’m far too self aware for that to happen again…right?! (Insert laughing emoji face here.)

We all have a default. It’s the trigger that catches you by surprise every damn time. It’s a sneaky demon. It’s a jealous, vengeful little tick. It doesn’t want your life. Oh wait – yes it does. It just wants what you have. You know what that is, right? Right?!

It’s wants FREEDOM. It wants all the freedom, as if it were a limited resource. It wants a life of it’s own. Let’s not give it ours, whaddayasay?

I have a favorite scene in a favorite old movie, Witches of Eastwick. Brilliant movie, way before it’s time. The women have discovered that they can fly. The dog is barking at them. And Daryl Van Horne kneels next to the dog to calm him, and whispers, “Look what they can do. These are human beings.” And he isn’t – but he sure is in awe of them.

Are you in awe? Are you in awe of you, of your life? Are we? Are we thriving? Thriving requires we free ourselves from survival mode. Apparently I’m accruing more clueage about how to do that, and I humbly come here to share my floundering. Just FYI, I will continue to seek freedom until my dying breath. Some days I’m kicking and screaming (which looks like ranting and raving.) More often than not I’m under the covers, breathing shallowly, wondering how I came to be so small again.

Now about that “clueage” – which we will explore here this week: I have a niggling feeling deep inside that it’s the same issue for us all. I’m certainly not special or unique in this intrinsically human pursuit. There is a common denominator in all our woes. You won’t like it. It’s ugly and you might not believe we are still dealing with this all these years of therapy later. It’s codependence.

Cringe. Yep. You think you healed it or outgrew it, and it finds a way to sneak back in through your pores and infiltrate your bloodstream. You felt safe, and you let down a boundary.

So that’s about the gist of this – boundaries are never going to be negotiable. You are going to have to spend the rest of your spectacular human life patrolling the fence line of your own being. YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO PUT YOURSELF FIRST.

That’s all there is to it…

Feb7

…the same thing we do every night, Pinky…

Posted on by
Standard

“The way you alchemize a soulless world into a sacred world is by treating everyone as if they are sacred until the sacred in them remembers.” – unknown

That’s a great meme, and I don’t doubt the truth of that statement, but I’ve never practiced treating everyone as if they are sacred. Far from it. I’ve been ornery and downright cruel at times. I’d like to think I’ve matured, but who knows. It is easier said than done, and as we know, patience is not one of my virtues.

But if I know anything, I know this: our unhealed trauma is causing all the problems. All. The. Problems. Including our current political chaos. Unhealed personal trauma directly results in chaos, both personal and collective. That said, chaos isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It’s uncomfortable, perhaps even painful, but inevitably it leads to change. “The universe is a process and it’s method is change.” – Germaine Greer

If I am a miraculous and unique composition of the same particles shared with all (seemingly disparate) parts of the earth, how can I not be in a constant state of change? Back in my twenties and early 30’s I went through a couple years of bodywork sessions with a Buddhist monk from Seattle. He was recommended by fellow roller skaters who appeared to be growing younger before my eyes. He flew into Detroit bimonthly to offer this particular healing modality. I would pay him a lot of my hard-earned money, and he would chant and dance around the table, sometimes yell, and reach in through my belly button to adjust my spine. Some form of exorcism was taking place. The hour session was usually painful and sometimes frightening because I didn’t understand what he was doing. Now I know it would be classified as “psychic surgery.” But I had profound healing experiences, physically and spiritually. I was accidentally learning that all my pain was a form of emotional resistance stored in my connective tissue – ie., unhealed trauma.

And I remember thinking at one point, “the more I allow my mind to flow with the abstract, the more I stand to gain here.” Or as my young son would have said at the time, “you’re just gonna have to let your imagination go with this, Mom…” It was a valuable lesson. That said, healing trauma is a lifelong commitment, no doubt about it. I’m convinced it is stored in every cell. So start paddling, Pinky…

Jan12

elephants on parade

Posted on by
Standard

Okay. Let’s address the elephant in the room. Actually, there is an entire herd gathering. It’s getting crowded in here…the most recent elephant is my ADHD diagnosis. I’ve been gonna talk about it, but I’m still figuring it out. When the doctor and I talked I had just started back on an antidepressant and was in for a three week consult. I was not feeling a whole lot better, which is to say that I was still having trouble functioning. Just that morning I had made a pot of coffee and forgot to put the carafe under the spout; coffee poured out everywhere before I noticed. My doctor was adamant that I give the ADHD medication a try, but suggested we postpone the start of that another three weeks. That way I was not introducing two new medications in less than a six week span. Sounded wise to me.

So I had my first dose of generic Adderall yesterday. I didn’t feel any different. Perhaps a tiny bit more able to focus – I am writing here, after all. That hasn’t been happening easily for weeks now. I will have to keep you posted on progress. I will say that the ADHD diagnosis has been a huge thing to come to terms with. I don’t want it. It feels like something that I would associate with children or young adults, and it’s embarrassing. But man oh man…it rather explains a lot. Like, my whole life. I think the hardest part to accept is how profoundly different my life might have been if this had come to light sooner.

I am seventy years old. Relationships have been hard all of my life. I am a classic under-achiever, often procrastinating important deadlines until the last minute and then exhausting myself to meet them. Anxiety has been a lifelong companion. It was my Mother’s lifelong companion, and all four of my siblings. Out of seven people in my biological family I am the only one without substance addictions, and the only one who never smoked cigarettes. I have a son, a niece and two nephews. They all have it, I’m sure; the younger two were treated with Ritalin in grade school, which was a new treatment 20 years ago.

All of us, all four generations if I include my grandparents, exhibit the symptoms. And it is debilitating. I have seen counselors all of my adult life, so for the better part of fifty years. I have gone on and off antidepressants with mediocre results. It is entirely possible that all of this dysfunction and struggle could have been alleviated to some degree with the diagnosis and treatment of ADHD. But it’s relatively new for doctors and therapists, especially to address in older women.

There will be follow up with a specialist I must wait to see, and I will explore all the options for treatment and hopefully find something natural that will help. But I will seek help. I will always seek to be ever-increasingly healthier mentally and physically. Regardless of age, I will always seek to improve myself, my life skills, and my quality of life. That’s a given. I hope the same is true for you. Let’s get well and then let’s get better!