Out of the muck

Update:  I am feeling much much better, even though it's February 3 - and I hate this month and I'm getting a little tired of winter (even though it's been quite easy here.)  And I had to spend $2,000 today on that same tooth that had root canal a few weeks ago, now I have a post and a new crown to pay for.  

But - on the other hand, I'm watching Jon Stewart now and I love John Oliver.  And I went to yoga on Monday and after the class I told the teacher how old I am and he said "Wow, you look amazing!  You're going to kick ass in a couple of weeks.."  or something like that.  Which is so un-yoga of him and a terrible thing to tell me, since I am so competitive.  But I have to say that I really did kind of enjoy the class, even though it was so hard.  And I'm running now on the treadmill too, which I love. Thirty minutes at a pretty good pace, it's amazing how much more I can feel the endorphins, even writing about it gets me excited.  

So personally, I am feeling good.  But I have to find work and get a good income. It's been a hell of a year, but I'm starting to see that all the hard work I've done is paying off.  I'd like to volunteer somewhere that will utilize all that I've learned at Friends In Deed. I feel like I've been studying grief and coping for the last year, as I've sat in meetings.  And I've met so many wonderful people. 

I know that the Haitian people are still struggling and it's going to take a very long time until life gets better there.  And we still have no health care bill, the economy is still not great and many people are still out of work. There was a warning tonight on the evening news about heightened concerns about a terrorist attack in this country.  


I'm looking at the glass and it's half full and half empty.  But maybe slightly more full...because my daughter is coming to visit me next month and I couldn't be happier! 

Yoga, finally

I've been threatening to take a yoga class for a long time and today I finally did.  I came in two minutes late and walked into a dark closet to find a mat.  The handsome teacher had to show me where the light was.  I had to squeeze into a spot, which then turned out to be too near the speaker, so I moved the mat.  The teacher played music in a yoga class which is very weird to me, but it turned out to be okay.  I probably could have been almost every person's mother in the class, they were all so young and beautiful.  I could follow the class, after all I studied with Bikram, for God's sake...and many other teachers over the years.  

I was in the class thinking, "Oy vey, this is way too hard for me.  I can't do this.  I can't hold my leg up over my head and hold a downward facing dog for what felt like ten minutes and breathe.  I need an easier class."  But somehow about half way through the class, I felt good.  I felt connected to my body.  I loved the stretching.  I felt proud that I could at least try most of the postures and the ones I couldn't even begin to do, many other people in the class couldn't do either.  

So tomorrow, I will probably not be able to walk or move and I will probably be in pain.  I remember the pain of yoga class when you haven't done it in awhile.  But I look foward to trying other classes and hopefully continuing.  

And then I went to Friends In Deed and had yet another good cry and a big salad and some very good macaroni and cheese.   

Living With the Pain

I was just meditating and some sad feelings came flooding over me. I don't think that's supposed to happen in meditation, but maybe it is.

I've been here before. I know it doesn't last, but when you're in it, it's not fun and it definitely makes me miss the ability to eat a giant cupcake or to go shopping without being overwhelmed with guilt. Those two addictions are pretty much off the table, although I do slip up now and then. The other day I bought myself a watch for a hundred dollars, simply because it was reduced from $380 and I thought, "Wow, what a deal. Can't pass that one up."

So - back to the blues. My beloved dog, Lucy, is sick again. She's 12 1/2. We got her from the ASPCA when she was 4 and although it wasn't love at first sight (she was cowering in her cage), as soon as she came out she climbed in our laps and started licking us, then we knew she was our dog. She is simply a kind, sweet, adoring, loving, neurotic god (oh, I actually wrote that) DOG, who has been with us through more ups and downs than the Cyclone at Coney Island. I remember leaving her in our loft on 9/11 to run up to Zoe's school to pick Zoe and her friend Willa up, wondering if we'd ever see Lucy again. (We weren't sure what was happening at that point.) She's been there for me while I've been the primary caregiver for my mother for the last 7 years. She's been there when we all took turns being seriously depressed. She's moved with us three times in the past five years. She's tolerated sharing us with Lola, who has a bit more of an outgoing personality than Lucy.

The last time Lucy had surgery, this past summer, I was reading a brochure in the vet's office about dealing with the death of a pet. I will try to bring home a copy today if we're at the vet's office again. At the time, Steve's father was dying and I was reading this brochure and thinking that as much as we love humans, and we obviously do - our animals are with us every day of our lives, through all kinds of struggles, they're often the one constant in our lives and they love us unconditionally (unlike any human I know.)


UPDATE: Just came home after two hours at the vet. Lucy's got a pretty bad urinary tract infection and another hematoma in her ear. She has blood in her urine and was throwing up this morning, but hopefully with the antibiotics she will be feeling better in just a few days. I brought home the brochure about losing a pet, the one that really got to me that time I read it in the vet's office. Here is the quote: "For some, losing a pet can be a truly devastating experience. The animal was an important family member who provided unconditional comfort and support over many phases and changes in a person's life. As you begin to reflect on what has happened since your companion came into your life, a certain chapter in your life closes. As animals commonly live for 15 to 20 years, these life chapters often include major transitions such as becoming an adult, moving homes, changing jobs, marriage, children, relationship endings, etc. Obviously then, may memories are associated with a pet, all of which come to the surface when the pet dies."

That really got to me.

So aside from feeling sad about my dogs' eventual deaths (Lola's only 6), my concerns for my daughter, and money issues, and worry about my family and my friends' health (Steve has to have eye surgery soon) and I always worry about my own health, and let's not even get into the election...and the environment and the war and the economy and and and...

...wondering how I got here in my life, to the place that I am at, which doesn't feel so good right now. I just don't quite understand it.

I think that one answer may be yoga. I think I have to continue with my meditation and find a good yoga class because at other times in my life yoga has helped me. I also know that this feeling will pass and that life is really about the ups and downs and all the challenges. And that all the answers are inside of me (according to that book I recommended a few weeks ago) - even if I don't really have a clue about how to find them.

I think I'll do a few yoga postures and start with Downward Facing Dog, in Lucy's honor. And if any answers come, I'll let you know.