Growing Pains

Last week, I watched Inside Out for probably the tenth time. I’ll be honest and admit that I am 46 years old, yet I tear up at a few of the scenes in the film. Spoiler alert here…if you plan on seeing the movie someday and don’t want to know anything about the plot, I’d suggest you stop reading here and move along…

OK, since you’re still reading, I’ve either peaked your interest, you’ve already seen the movie, or you didn’t pay attention…if that’s the case, SNAP OUT OF IT BEFORE I RUIN THE FILM FOR YOU! 😊

Anyway, especially at the end of Inside Out, when Joy realizes she needs Sadness…man, I’m a blubbering idiot watching Riley cry because she’s been trying to put a positive face on for her parents but is really sad about moving. It’s in that moment that Joy realizes that her favorite core memory from Riley’s life is also Sadness’ but for different reasons. Joy and Sadness need each other to work, as do Anger, Disgust, and Fear.

There’s another part in Inside Out that absolutely kills me. It’s when Bing Bong, Riley’s imaginary friend from her childhood, and Joy are trying to escape the “memory” dump to get back to Sadness and the control center. They sing the ‘Bing Bong’ song to power his rocket:

Who’s your friend who likes to play?

Bing Bong, Bing Bong

His rocket makes you yell “Hooray!”

Bing Bong, Bing Bong

Who’s the best in every way, and wants to sing this song to say

Bing Bong, Bing Bong!

Bing Bong realizes they are too heavy to make it to the top of the cavern, and on the last attempt, he jumps off and Joy soars forward in the rocket. Joy looks back as she clears the dump, and Bing Bong waves as he slowly disappears, which symbolizes Riley maturing to a point where she’ll forget her childhood imaginary friend.

Cue the crying. Holy crap, I’m a mess.

I remember that time in my life, teetering between childhood and young personhood but not quite ready to leap forward, with one particular memory crystal clear in my mind’s eye. I was swinging on the swing set in my back yard, somewhere around 9 or 10 years old, and I knew I wasn’t a kid anymore but I didn’t want to grow up just yet. I cried so hard in that moment, and even though it was so long ago, it feels like it was yesterday.

Without children of my own, it’s harder for me to relate to such a lesson as a parent. I imagine the parents reading this can recall not only a similar moment in their own lives when they were faced with having to forge ahead into young personhood from childhood, but the moments when their children made that leap as well.

I did, however, experience a small episode of a disappearing Bing Bong last week. While at the boardwalk with my two nephews, the six-year-old H wanted to go on the ride with the boats. As he walked up to hand his ticket card, the ride attendant pointed at the sign indicating the maximum height of riders, and H was a smidge too tall to go on the ride. This was the first time he was too big for any of the rides. He looked at me with a quivering lip and tear-filled eyes, then ran over to me and hugged me tight as he let those tears out. And I let him cry it out while I held him tight, crying inside myself but trying to keep a strong exterior so that I didn’t further upset him or his brother. Within a minute, he regrouped and we moved on to ride the balloon Ferris wheel ride, where all three of us were the acceptable height.

This two-minute long experience made me realize that it’s got to be so much harder for parents watching their own children cross that threshold from childhood to young personhood. My sympathies are truly with you.

Watching Bing Bong dissolve a day later brought that look of sadness on H’s face flooding back to memory. I cried a little harder at this part in the movie this time because I thought of H and how his own personal Bing Bong was a tad less clear than it had been earlier in the month.

That’s the sucky part about maturing and growing up. Life has its stages and it’s all part of our plan, but knowing that doesn’t make it any easier. H is growing up, as we all do, and it’s not easy. What I can do for H is to be there ready with hugs and understanding whenever he needs me. That goes for all of my nieces and nephews.

I get it.

Yesterday, I took my very own pinwheel out of my shed and let it blow in the breeze. Then I bounced my purple ball on the sidewalk a few times. I blew some bubbles into the air and spun around. I hugged my Mickey Mouse, Pusheen cat, Boba Fett, dinosaur, and tiger stuffed toys, then stacked a few of my Tsum Tsum figures in new formations.

Earlier today, I received a text from my sister-in-law with a picture of a rare, new Tsum Tsum figure the boys got in a blind bag. They were both excited to show it to me.

And I was even more excited to know they finally got their three peas in a pod.

My own, personal Bing Bong is as clear and as bright and as alive as he ever was.

The Changes, The Challenges, and The Chump in Control

Indeed, it is back to reality now on all fronts, but this time, reality is wrought with change.

Please do not interpret this post as one large complaint, as that is not my intention. Rather, it’s my attempt at authenticity as I share a sliver of what it is like living with Lupus and Fibromyalgia.

Last week was a sea filled with many changes as I returned for my 16th year of teaching, including (but not limited to) adjusting to a completely new schedule and a substantial increase in daily physical activity (in part a byproduct of said new schedule).

I began each day with a short meditation and a smile. I put my best foot forward with my heart in the right place and a positive “Let’s do this!” attitude.

Each day proved to be a challenge, and at the end of the day, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of “Nope. I. Can’t. Do. This.

The summer months off benefits my health greatly. I obviously get a lot more sleep, but I am also able to rest after any sort of activity. Whether it’s after mowing the lawn, exploring our world, or racing after my niece and nephews, I have the time to recuperate and re-energize. If I’m still tired, I take it slow. Even while in Dublin, the schedule I made for myself each day included time to sit and rest. I walked, then I sat, and repeated during the entire trip.

When September arrives, reality drops like a sack of cement bricks from the top of a 10-story building.

On the first day of school, the green flag furiously waves to start the race, and every day from then on through June, it’s go-go-go-go-go from the time I wake at 4:45 AM until well after the end of my work day.

The result?

I am depleted of energy yet “energized” with pain well before my work day is done. I chose the word “energized” because the pain throughout my muscles and joints is like an electric current, radiating and moving up and down while simultaneously throbbing in singular locations such as my inner hip bones and knees. Sitting only stiffens me up, but because I’m so fatigued, I have no choice but to sit when I can, and that’s not often.

My brain is also shot, full of fog and clouds and headache and other barriers to intelligent thought, creativity, and concentration.

It has been nearly impossible to complete any sort of professional responsibilities after my last class at school or after I get home. Likewise, I cannot do laundry, clean, write, or even take a short walk around the block. My eyelids begin closing well before dusk, all the while pain circulates throughout my body and pulsates in my head.

My symptoms are again in control already, and I hate it. So disappointing.

I honestly give everything I have, day in and day out, to my profession, but my diseases end up rendering me physically and mentally useless.

I really don’t think I’m asking too much by wanting to have a life after my work day ends, but with the pain and fatigue, how is that even possible?

After just one week, I already feel like I’m being pulled under and there’s no…

Wait a minute….

What’s that?

I notice a hand with manicured black fingernails reaching for mine.

The lifeguard who is trying to save me is my spirit guide, full of assertiveness, comfort, and hope.

SHE pulls me up and says, “Your purpose is stronger than your pain.

I can hear her voice, in my head, saying those words, like she is standing right next to me.

And I want so hard believe her.

She also says, “Hey you…work on your book already, dammit. You can find time to write at least 200 words each day, you chump.

In her unique and sassy way, SHE has already led me to the revelation of my purpose: teaching, writing, and living.

And now SHE is reassuring me, guiding me towards what’s ahead, what I should be doing, with emphatic certainty.

I can see it, a small glimmer of a speck of light, the light that’s shining ahead.

It’s going to take a while to reach, but it’s there.

Mind over matter, she says, mind over matter, and minute by minute. The light that shines ahead is nothing to be afraid of.

I breathe out my uncertainties. They are now dispelled from my being.

I inhale nothing but possibility and positivity.

My passions and purpose MUST be stronger than my pain.

Last week was nothing more than an anomaly, a road block, a mere short detour on my journey.

I sternly tell the pain it is NOT necessary or wanted, that it needs to vacate the premises immediately and to take the fatigue with it. It’s time for both to get the heave-ho.

My body will listen and adjust to my new “normal” for the next 10 months, as it doesn’t have a choice.

The kinks in my daily schedule will be worked out, and each day will be easier than it’s yesterday.

I will prioritize what is most important each day, balancing my teaching responsibilities with time to write and time to live. The three will live in harmony so I can live in joy.

My symptoms are no longer in the driver’s seat, rather, I am the chump who is in charge and in control.

I’ve GOT to believe…

I am stronger than my pain. My soul is stronger than my pain. My purpose is stronger than my pain.

Well, would you look at that?

Instead of feeling like I’m drowning, I am standing firmly on the shore with my focus on that tiny glimmer of light that shines ahead strong and steadfast.

Postscript: Just to reiterate so I am not misinterpreted, I am the CHUMP referenced in the title. 🙂

 

 

 

 

 

 

Something to SEA: Rainy Day Clicks for 4/23/2016

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Hello, friends! Unfortunately, I’m sitting here and my mind is completely blank. That’s how it’s been all week when there’s so much I want to write about…I have words and sentences scribbled on post-it notes all over the place, but when I sit and try to write, I turn into Patrick Star go blank. Completely blank. And it’s frustrating. I don’t know why I have a mind meld going on over here, but it’s there. And the more I try to force the words to come out, the more frustrated I become.

Anyway……..here are some interesting links I found this week that you might want to check out when you have a few minutes to troll. Hoping your week makes you smile and gives you many moments of happiness!

Dear Younger Me – from Susannah Conway. A great perspective about looking back while looking forward.

Be The Lighthouse – written by Alexandra Franzen and recommended by Dani DiPirro

How to Say No (in 25 Bad A** ways) – contains adult language. The inner snarky “me” loves this!

What You Need To Know Before You Go To Skellig Michael, Ireland – from Flirting with the Globe. A very symbolic place to me and someday I will set my 2 feet on Skellig Michael.

William Shakespeare’s Obituary – by the NY Times and posted today, 4/23/2016, on the anniversary of his death.

Need a smile?  Watch this Lemur who demands back scratches! Or these otters who hold hand while sleeping!

This awesome image posted by Leonie Dawson

This awesome post by Elizabeth Gilbert (it’s almost as if she can read my mind with her timely posts)

35 Minute Total Body Yoga Flow – as seen on The Inertia

and finally,

Remembering Sgt. Ronald A. Kubik – a former student who gave his life to save many others on this day in 2010. Thank you, Ron.

Until next time,

Jill

 

 

Something to SEA: My “Living 45” List

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As you probably already know, I started an annual tradition last year of listing 10 things I want to accomplish within my birthday year.  The decision to make this list stemmed from deciding to live versus watching life pass me by. After much thought and careful consideration, I present to you my list of things I intend to accomplish while I am 45:

  1. Watch a sunrise in all 4 seasons
  2. Learn to surf by taking lessons with my niece
  3. See at least 2 new places a month. These places are on my “hope to visit” list: Grounds for Sculpture, the Liberty bell, the NJ Balloon festival, Red Bank, 9-11 Reflection Pool/Memorial/Museum, Sea Girt Lighthouse, Hereford Inlet Lighthouse, Old Barracks, Belford Docks, Tuckerton Seaport, Sayen Gardens, NJ Vintage Automobile Museum (it’s right here in town!)
  4. Finish writing two books
  5. Walk across the Brooklyn Bridge
  6. See The Cure in June at MSG
  7. Have firm plans to travel to Ireland and/or Iceland by the end of 2017
  8. Go to the Point Pleasant Beach Grand Prix powerboat weekend and race
  9. Take each one of my 3 nephews and niece on a “mystery day” with Auntie Jill, and spend time with each and make them laugh a million times throughout the year
  10. LIVE! Just life and enjoy life without taking it too seriously. Included here will be trips to Six Flags, hopefully a NY Yankees game, return visits to other special places, laughing with friends, etc.

I will be making this list a stand-alone category in my menus.  I plan on updating my progress throughout the year, so please check back!

If you’d like to see my 44th year List and Stats, please click anywhere in this sentence.