Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Perfectionism - How Much Is Enough?
A reader has asked me to share on the topics: "I do enough," and "dealing with chronic pain."
I can relate well to both of these, as I have had back pain for about 25 years, as the result of an injury sustained at work, and more recently, I've had to struggle against my early training in being a rabid perfectionist.
I was talking to a program friend the other day about perfectionism, because I've noticed that in dealing with the cancer diagnosis, if I'm not careful, I can get caught up in the "right way" to manage my feelings and thoughts regarding the situation I'm facing. Before Al-Anon, I was a person hiding my true feelings behind the mask of "Oh, fine thank you," and it's been rather alarming to discover just how quickly I have wanted to revert to this behavior since the diagnosis. Part of this is a response to the pain in the faces of the people I love, when the cancer is mentioned, partly it's my pride - wanting to deal with this "well" - either way, it would keep me isolated and alone, were I not to recognise that's what I'm up to, and work to be mindful of my own behavior.
I've had to make a conscious choice to answer honestly, when asked how I'm doing, how I'm feeling, how am I handling this, or any one of the ways in which friends and family offer me the chance to unburden myself. I've had times when I wanted very badly to respond with the "I'm fine" reply, because that would save us both the discomfort of honesty. It can be quite the struggle to admit that I'm feeling exhausted by the myriad of tests to stage the tumour, the stress of waiting to find out if it has metastasized, and what sort of surgery, and/or long-term outlook I'm facing.
It is disconcerting to recognise and admit to my fears. At the same time, my relationship with my partner is a delight and a joy - he can always make me laugh, and gives of himself so generously, being a support and an encouragement when I'm feeling weak, tired, or just flagging from the stress of it all.
I spoke to a cancer survivor, and one thing she repeated several times was, " Let other people help you, they want to do it, allow them the room and the chance." I've been independent; I believe it will help me with achieving humility, to learn to accept help graciously, and without the frustration of wanting to do it myself.
I need to relearn how to accept that whatever I've managed to accomplish in a day is "enough." When I do this, I give myself room to be out-of-sorts, tired, unwilling, or even lazy, that crime of my childhood. One could be anything but lazy; doing nothing was completely unacceptable in my childhood home. If sitting, one couldn't just sit and cogitate, one had to be doing something with one's hands, sewing or embroidery, painting or reading, something. One couldn't just be.
When I was a kid, I used to like to sit on her bed with our Border Collie, but wasn't give the peace to just sit and pet her, or sit quietly beside her. So I'd get the dog's brush and use it on her silky hair, because that was considered "doing something" and meant I could spend time enjoying her company.
My partner and I like to sit on the rooftop terrace and admire our pots of flowers. I'm always entertained if another resident comes out and asks, "What are you two doing?" I will sometimes reply "Nothing at all." I find it enormously satisfying to be able to say that.
In dealing with chronic pain, acceptance of my limitations is the key. Admitting to the pain is another. My back always hurts, it's a matter of hurting a bit less or a bit more, but the pain has been a constant companion for many years. I've discovered that being involved in something which catches and holds my interest will allow me to detach from the physical sensation, and push it from my conscious awareness. It won't be until I stop for a short pause or rest, that I will realise that my back is hurting, and it's time to stop for the day. This works for me, whether the activity is gardening (I don't do any heavy digging or lifting) sewing, painting, whatever I like to do.
My Higher Power is continually finding new ways to teach me patience.
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Accepting My Feelings
At dinner earlier this week, I was talking to my partner, struggling to express the confused turmoil of emotion which had been roiling inside me all day, and he was listening carefully and lovingly, reflecting back to me the reality that I am going to feel whatever I feel, and that's going to be the way of it, and if friends or family have trouble with my being less of a rock of support for them, well, so be it.
My sponsor called shortly after the end of that conversation, and I was telling her some of the ideas which had been crashing through my brain that day, and she said bluntly, "You're not accepting your feelings."
It was as though a load had been lifted from my shoulders the instant after she'd said it - I knew it was true, and that this is what my partner had been trying to tell me, although more gently, not so directly. My sponsor and I have been through enough together, that she knows she can slap whatever it is down on the table between us, and I might startle a bit at the impact, but I will be able to hear it, recognise it, appreciate it.
All day that day I had been fighting my feelings, and it made my life unmanageable. I was fighting against the grief and sorrow of the cancer diagnosis, the fear and the sense of loss. My partner and I had barely 3 months together before we found out I have cancer - it seems agonisingly unfair to have met the love of my life and 3 months later be diagnosed with cancer.
Because like it or not, cancer changes everything. Suddenly our lives are filled with doctor's visits, phone calls from doctor's offices booking tests to stage the tumour, and what seem like endless conversations about cancer, with friends, sponsees, my sponsor, family members, it goes on and on and on, and I feel like I am forgetting what it was like to live a life without people crying about me when they talk to me, and conversations about the cancer.
This morning, I woke up feeling desolate, and that moved into anger - I stood in my kitchen and wept helplessly as a furious anger swept through me. I haven't cried much since being diagnosed because I don't want to cry. I will allow myself a few tears here and there, but I haven't really cried, not the kind of abandoned sobbing I did when my friend died last May. I'm beginning to realise that I may need to allow myself that kind of weeping because I am grieving, I'm grieving the purity of the relationship with my partner before cancer intervened, I'm grieving my health, I'm grieving ordinary life.
Not much of help here today, I'm afraid. Bless you all for your support and kindness.
My sponsor called shortly after the end of that conversation, and I was telling her some of the ideas which had been crashing through my brain that day, and she said bluntly, "You're not accepting your feelings."
It was as though a load had been lifted from my shoulders the instant after she'd said it - I knew it was true, and that this is what my partner had been trying to tell me, although more gently, not so directly. My sponsor and I have been through enough together, that she knows she can slap whatever it is down on the table between us, and I might startle a bit at the impact, but I will be able to hear it, recognise it, appreciate it.
All day that day I had been fighting my feelings, and it made my life unmanageable. I was fighting against the grief and sorrow of the cancer diagnosis, the fear and the sense of loss. My partner and I had barely 3 months together before we found out I have cancer - it seems agonisingly unfair to have met the love of my life and 3 months later be diagnosed with cancer.
Because like it or not, cancer changes everything. Suddenly our lives are filled with doctor's visits, phone calls from doctor's offices booking tests to stage the tumour, and what seem like endless conversations about cancer, with friends, sponsees, my sponsor, family members, it goes on and on and on, and I feel like I am forgetting what it was like to live a life without people crying about me when they talk to me, and conversations about the cancer.
This morning, I woke up feeling desolate, and that moved into anger - I stood in my kitchen and wept helplessly as a furious anger swept through me. I haven't cried much since being diagnosed because I don't want to cry. I will allow myself a few tears here and there, but I haven't really cried, not the kind of abandoned sobbing I did when my friend died last May. I'm beginning to realise that I may need to allow myself that kind of weeping because I am grieving, I'm grieving the purity of the relationship with my partner before cancer intervened, I'm grieving my health, I'm grieving ordinary life.
Not much of help here today, I'm afraid. Bless you all for your support and kindness.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Awake at 4 am, thinking.
I woke up just now out of a sound sleep, and lay there remembering the visit to the surgeon this afternoon. He seems to think I have an early tumour, but over the next 4-6 weeks I will be getting tested - an ultrasound, an MRI, a CT scan, etc, in an effort to stage the tumour, and find out how advanced the cancer is.
If it has spread; I may require radiation; if it hasn't metastasized, surgery will be enough.
When I got up out of bed a little while ago, my partner awoke and asked sleepily if I was okay, and did I want to talk about it? I sat on his side of the bed and we talked a little bit, and he made me burst out laughing with a silly joke.
Then I came here to my computer, and read a few emails from family and close friends to whom I'd sent the news earlier this evening, and found myself in tears, reading the loving words. I am fortunate indeed not to be having to walk this path alone. I have the love, companionship and humour of my partner to keep me balanced and sane, and good friends who love me. I have the Al-Anon program to help me through the more difficult aspects of this journey, and I have a loving Higher Power who has blessed me with all these people - a man who loves me whole-heartedly and without reservation, who has made his commitment to me crystal clear, and friends who have done the same.
I cannot imagine what it would have been like to try to endure this sort of experience before Al-Anon, when I was still such an angry, resentful, self-pitying and self-absorbed woman. I wouldn't have been able to deal with it, and the rage and anger would have been terrible.
Today, when we got back from the appointment with the surgeon, my partner and I went for a lovely walk in the large city park just blocks from here, then had an ice-cream cone, and a stroll home, secure in the comfort and love between us.
I am powerfully grateful for the people in my life, and the love and caring they give so generously to me. I am grateful that I can feel that love, that my own character defects no longer get in the way of my being able to accept love, or believe that I deserve it, which was the case before program.
I am grateful that all I have to do is ask, "Please help me with this, God" and I will be given comfort to soothe me, and to quiet my restless, questioning mind.
Thank you to all who have written messages of help and support, it means a lot. Bless you.
If it has spread; I may require radiation; if it hasn't metastasized, surgery will be enough.
When I got up out of bed a little while ago, my partner awoke and asked sleepily if I was okay, and did I want to talk about it? I sat on his side of the bed and we talked a little bit, and he made me burst out laughing with a silly joke.
Then I came here to my computer, and read a few emails from family and close friends to whom I'd sent the news earlier this evening, and found myself in tears, reading the loving words. I am fortunate indeed not to be having to walk this path alone. I have the love, companionship and humour of my partner to keep me balanced and sane, and good friends who love me. I have the Al-Anon program to help me through the more difficult aspects of this journey, and I have a loving Higher Power who has blessed me with all these people - a man who loves me whole-heartedly and without reservation, who has made his commitment to me crystal clear, and friends who have done the same.
I cannot imagine what it would have been like to try to endure this sort of experience before Al-Anon, when I was still such an angry, resentful, self-pitying and self-absorbed woman. I wouldn't have been able to deal with it, and the rage and anger would have been terrible.
Today, when we got back from the appointment with the surgeon, my partner and I went for a lovely walk in the large city park just blocks from here, then had an ice-cream cone, and a stroll home, secure in the comfort and love between us.
I am powerfully grateful for the people in my life, and the love and caring they give so generously to me. I am grateful that I can feel that love, that my own character defects no longer get in the way of my being able to accept love, or believe that I deserve it, which was the case before program.
I am grateful that all I have to do is ask, "Please help me with this, God" and I will be given comfort to soothe me, and to quiet my restless, questioning mind.
Thank you to all who have written messages of help and support, it means a lot. Bless you.
Friday, August 16, 2013
Other People's Reactions
One of the most difficult aspects of having received a cancer diagnosis, I'm finding, is the having to inform friends and family. Last night was the meeting of my home group - my sponsor was chairing, and we'd agreed yesterday afternoon, when we met, that it would be a lot easier for me to speak about it at the start of my sharing, rather than have to tell each person individually. I warned her that at the end of the meeting, I was going to quickly say goodbye and shoot out the door as quickly as I was able, so as not to have to deal with all the reactions.
I didn't manage very well, because no sooner had the serenity prayer been said, than I was engulfed in a hug from a woman I know well, who started weeping on my shoulder. I calmed her down, said goodbye, and tried to head for the exit, but was grabbed from behind by another woman who wanted to hug me and began to cry, and then another and... by the time I reached the doorway, I was feeling exhausted by the emotion and the people wanting me to soothe and comfort them, in their pain, about my health.
When just before the doorway, I was grabbed by someone who would fall into the category, "Although you may not like all of us, you'll love us in a very special way" I had had enough. I ducked her clutching arms and burst out into the hallway, up the few steps, through the outside doors, and into the fresh, cool night air.
I felt used up, stressed out, and wanted nothing more than to go home to my partner's love and comfort. By the time I arrived at his place, and he met me with open arms, I was teary-eyed with frustration and emotional exhaustion. I stood with my face pressed against his chest and him giving me soft kisses on the top of my head, and said grumpily, "They acted like I was being taken out to be hanged in the morning!"
I don't recall how he replied, but it wasn't long before I'd regained myself, and the evening went on as usual, in comfort, love, acceptance, and fun. He's such a treat to be with.
I didn't manage very well, because no sooner had the serenity prayer been said, than I was engulfed in a hug from a woman I know well, who started weeping on my shoulder. I calmed her down, said goodbye, and tried to head for the exit, but was grabbed from behind by another woman who wanted to hug me and began to cry, and then another and... by the time I reached the doorway, I was feeling exhausted by the emotion and the people wanting me to soothe and comfort them, in their pain, about my health.
When just before the doorway, I was grabbed by someone who would fall into the category, "Although you may not like all of us, you'll love us in a very special way" I had had enough. I ducked her clutching arms and burst out into the hallway, up the few steps, through the outside doors, and into the fresh, cool night air.
I felt used up, stressed out, and wanted nothing more than to go home to my partner's love and comfort. By the time I arrived at his place, and he met me with open arms, I was teary-eyed with frustration and emotional exhaustion. I stood with my face pressed against his chest and him giving me soft kisses on the top of my head, and said grumpily, "They acted like I was being taken out to be hanged in the morning!"
I don't recall how he replied, but it wasn't long before I'd regained myself, and the evening went on as usual, in comfort, love, acceptance, and fun. He's such a treat to be with.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Health News Update
On this past Monday, I was diagnosed with cancer. The tumour is small, 2cm, .79 of an inch, and was caught as a result of routine screening finding an anomaly, so I underwent further testing, which revealed the cancer.
In truth, I knew it was cancer by the reaction of the doctor doing the testing, he exclaimed, "Oh no, look at that!" when he saw it on the screen, and then both he and the nurse present fell ominously silent. Before then, they had been joking a bit, and being a little silly with me, but as soon as he saw the "growth" (as they called it at the time,) his demeanor, and that of his nurse, changed completely.
I then had to wait for a week until the biopsy results came in. My partner went into the room with me to get the results from my family doctor, and looked as though he'd been hit by a truck, but when we walked out into the hallway of the medical building, drew me into the warm loving circle of his arms, and whispered his love for me.
For the rest of that day, I felt furiously angry and resentful - how unfair is it, to have met the love of my life 3 months ago, and now receive a cancer diagnosis?
By the next morning, my natural cheerfulness had reasserted itself, like one of those bathtub toys that will only stay submerged under the water if held there, as soon as one lets go, up they pop to ride the surface.
That's just how it's been for me; I have let this go, because it is completely, utterly, beyond my control. As soon as I made the choice to let go and give it all over to my Higher Power, my usual mindset returned. I spent far too many years steeped in anger and self-pity and resentment to be willing to let anything take me back to that miserable state of mind.
I don't want to be unhappy, and I don't have to be, even with cancer, if I choose not to be. I will most likely have times of tears, but I don't have to allow this to drag me into daily sorrow and anger - I have a partner who is a gift and a delight, and I want to be able to enjoy him wholeheartedly. I want to be able to do all the things that bring me joy, and do them with a light heart, and that requires that I let go of the cancer, turn it over, and release it. I will make decisions as I'm faced with them, but I will not let this define me.
I thank my Higher Power with a grateful heart, for all my years in Al-Anon, 29 next month - they make this possible.
Bless you and thank you for your supportive comments and letters. I'll keep you in the information loop, among my usual hit and miss posting on here.
In truth, I knew it was cancer by the reaction of the doctor doing the testing, he exclaimed, "Oh no, look at that!" when he saw it on the screen, and then both he and the nurse present fell ominously silent. Before then, they had been joking a bit, and being a little silly with me, but as soon as he saw the "growth" (as they called it at the time,) his demeanor, and that of his nurse, changed completely.
I then had to wait for a week until the biopsy results came in. My partner went into the room with me to get the results from my family doctor, and looked as though he'd been hit by a truck, but when we walked out into the hallway of the medical building, drew me into the warm loving circle of his arms, and whispered his love for me.
For the rest of that day, I felt furiously angry and resentful - how unfair is it, to have met the love of my life 3 months ago, and now receive a cancer diagnosis?
By the next morning, my natural cheerfulness had reasserted itself, like one of those bathtub toys that will only stay submerged under the water if held there, as soon as one lets go, up they pop to ride the surface.
That's just how it's been for me; I have let this go, because it is completely, utterly, beyond my control. As soon as I made the choice to let go and give it all over to my Higher Power, my usual mindset returned. I spent far too many years steeped in anger and self-pity and resentment to be willing to let anything take me back to that miserable state of mind.
I don't want to be unhappy, and I don't have to be, even with cancer, if I choose not to be. I will most likely have times of tears, but I don't have to allow this to drag me into daily sorrow and anger - I have a partner who is a gift and a delight, and I want to be able to enjoy him wholeheartedly. I want to be able to do all the things that bring me joy, and do them with a light heart, and that requires that I let go of the cancer, turn it over, and release it. I will make decisions as I'm faced with them, but I will not let this define me.
I thank my Higher Power with a grateful heart, for all my years in Al-Anon, 29 next month - they make this possible.
Bless you and thank you for your supportive comments and letters. I'll keep you in the information loop, among my usual hit and miss posting on here.
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Health News
I will be updating this blog as of this evening, I have a sponsee who reads it with whom I need to talk first.
Monday, August 12, 2013
Humour and Gratitude
I'm hoping I can get in to see my doctor today to get the results of my biopsy. I'm feeling calm and relaxed this morning; I had a good sleep. Al-Anon has been a blessing to me; when I'm willing to do my part, it works during even the most stressful times in life. This is out of my control - I have a choice as to whether or not I spend my time chewing over the possibilities, or whether I let go, and decide to enjoy myself regardless.
Time spent with my partner yesterday was a peaceful and fulfilling part of my day - his love is a joy, and he makes me laugh. At dinner yesterday, after I'd been talking about some airheaded thing I'd done, he leaned towards me, straightfaced and serious, and asked, "Now that we're a team, do you think we could share the brain cell?"
I howled with delight. He grinned at me, and I was washed with a wave of gratitude for his presence in my life. I've been looking for a man like this all my adult life. He's gentle and kind, with a strength of character developed through his own sufferings; he's also wickedly funny, thoughtful, insightful and hugely supportive.
One of my adoptive parents was British, and she used the phrase "rub along together" to describe a state of contented enjoyment of each other's company - my partner and I rub along together very well. I've never felt the desire to get away by myself, that I felt with each of the two alcoholics who were my earlier long-term relationships - this man is the best companion a woman could wish for, and I find him enormously attractive. We each have our own pursuits, and when we get together again afterwards, I feel gratitude and delight in his company; he's fun. He's also a mad gardener, and has increased my stock of house plants exponentially.
I'd rather concentrate on those parts of my life which bring me joy and peace, than fulminate in a closed loop upon that which is beyond my power to control. I've done so much of that kind of obsessing in my life, and it's a terrible way to pass the time, because it's futile, and it winds me up from a beginning state of mildly upset, to a state of frantic frustration and overwhelming compulsion - I don't want to live like that ever again.
It works if we work it. I'll keep you posted.
Time spent with my partner yesterday was a peaceful and fulfilling part of my day - his love is a joy, and he makes me laugh. At dinner yesterday, after I'd been talking about some airheaded thing I'd done, he leaned towards me, straightfaced and serious, and asked, "Now that we're a team, do you think we could share the brain cell?"
I howled with delight. He grinned at me, and I was washed with a wave of gratitude for his presence in my life. I've been looking for a man like this all my adult life. He's gentle and kind, with a strength of character developed through his own sufferings; he's also wickedly funny, thoughtful, insightful and hugely supportive.
One of my adoptive parents was British, and she used the phrase "rub along together" to describe a state of contented enjoyment of each other's company - my partner and I rub along together very well. I've never felt the desire to get away by myself, that I felt with each of the two alcoholics who were my earlier long-term relationships - this man is the best companion a woman could wish for, and I find him enormously attractive. We each have our own pursuits, and when we get together again afterwards, I feel gratitude and delight in his company; he's fun. He's also a mad gardener, and has increased my stock of house plants exponentially.
I'd rather concentrate on those parts of my life which bring me joy and peace, than fulminate in a closed loop upon that which is beyond my power to control. I've done so much of that kind of obsessing in my life, and it's a terrible way to pass the time, because it's futile, and it winds me up from a beginning state of mildly upset, to a state of frantic frustration and overwhelming compulsion - I don't want to live like that ever again.
It works if we work it. I'll keep you posted.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)