GIVING UP CONTROL...HM....NOT SO FAST

Are we so in control that we're out of control?

What are we really dealing with here?
Control and Perfection.
And I can't have either.

I have control issues. I fully admit it, revel in it and have even tried to fix it. I think I came out of the birth canal with control issues.

Let's actually start there.

I weighed 2 lbs. when I was born. Back in 1952 my survival rate wasn't real high. Given my birth weight I was probably about 29 weeks when I was born. I was in a incubator for 3 months and only allowed to go home when I reached five pounds. Knowing what I do about premature babies there were all sorts of health issues that I could have had but didn't. I must have started fighting at birth.

One of the earliest memories I have is falling face first into a glass bowl filled with potato chips when I was four. All around me was chaos. No one knew if the glass was in my eyes and blood was streaming down my face. Someone had gone to get the doctor that lived across the street but I wanted "to see me bleed." The doctor came over and stitched me up right on the table. He threatened that if I moved I was going to the hospital. Evidently, I didn't move a muscle. My brother told me the only one who was in control that night was me.

Control morphed into perfection issues and organization issues. I would alphabetize my records and subsequently videos and then DVD's. I created my own Dewey Decimal system for my books. Even the spices in my spice cabinet were in alphabetical order. When I got into new home sales I would be like a whirlwind creating the perfect organizational system for my office.

Where did this get me?

Nowhere.

I have been rocked to the core when I found out about chronic illness. Suddenly, after a car accident that I couldn't control, I found out that my body was not under my control anymore either. I always know that it could be a lot worse. The pain that I feel on a daily basis is nowhere near the pain of cancer and the subsequent therapy that goes with it. It's nothing like the emotional pain that people deal with when they experience the trauma of great loss. This is more like a constant, nagging pain that reaches up to slap you in the face every time you get a moment of life that is pain free. This pain never wants you to forget that it's still around and will take every opportunity that it can to steal your joy. 

I think from the moment I opened my eyes for the first time I was engaged in battle. It was a control issue for my life and to this day I think control means survival. To let go of the control means I am at the mercy of God and I don't think I've ever done that. I don't mean that you let caution go to the wind and figure everything will be fine. I cannot see myself as Pollyanna; I mean, it's just not me. I'm definitely not made that way, however, I have to learn to see the bigger picture.

Life experiences bring all those traits we were born with to the forefront. The loss of control makes me feel imperfect and weak but isn't that what humanity is really all about? We are really perfect in our imperfection. This constant quest for perfection ultimately ends in never finding it. Even if we think we have it will never be quite good enough. I think part of letting up, even a little bit, is becoming flexible. Did I say I trouble with that as well? 

Usually people who tell you change is good are the very same people who came up with the whole idea to change something that worked perfectly.  I have never been big on it because it always meant something icky was going to happen. Life is filled with things that are out of our control. I've lived that and you'd think I would have learned that lesson by now. 

I didn't. 

So what did I do?

I freaked.

Then I attended my pity party for one.

I denied it.

I got mad at it.

But I still haven't accepted it. 

(i'm working on it.)

(Kinda)

PUPPETS ON A STRING

Are we so in control that we're out of control?

What are we really dealing with here?

I have control issues. I fully admit it, revel in it and have even tried to fix it. I think I came out of the birth canal with control issues.

Let's actually start there.

I weighed 2 lbs. when I was born. Back in 1952 my survival rate wasn't real high. Given my birth weight I was probably about 29 weeks when I was born. I was in a incubator for 3 months and only allowed to go home when I reached five pounds. Knowing what I do about premature babies there were all sorts of health issues that I could have had but didn't. I must have started fighting at birth.

One of the earliest memories I have is falling face first into a glass bowl filled with potato chips when I was four. All around me was chaos. No one knew if the glass was in my eyes and blood was streaming down my face. Someone had gone to get the doctor that lived across the street but I wanted "to see me bleed." The doctor came over and stitched me up right on the table. He threatened that if I moved I was going to the hospital. Evidently, I didn't move a muscle. My brother told me the only one who was in control that night was me.

Control morphed into perfection issues and organization issues. I would alphabetize my records and subsequently videos and then DVD's. I created my own Dewey Decimal system for my books. Even the spices in my spice cabinet were in alphabetical order. When I got into new home sales I would be like a whirlwind creating the perfect organizational system for my office.

Where did this get me?

Nowhere.

I have been rocked to the core when I found out about chronic illness. Suddenly, after a car accident that I couldn't control, I found out that my body was not under my control anymore either. I always know that it could be a lot worse. The pain that I feel on a daily basis is nowhere near the pain of cancer and the subsequent therapy that goes with it. It's nothing like the emotional pain that people deal with when they experience the trauma of great loss. This is more like a constant, nagging pain that reaches up to slap you in the face every time you get a moment of life that is pain free. This pain never wants you to forget that it's still around and will take every opportunity that it can to steal your joy. 

I think from the moment I opened my eyes for the first time I was engaged in battle. It was a control issue for my life and to this day I think control means survival. To let go of the control means I am at the mercy of God and I don't think I've ever done that. I don't mean that you let caution go to the wind and figure everything will be fine. I cannot see myself as Pollyanna; I mean, it's just not me. I'm definitely not made that way, however, I have to learn to see the bigger picture.

Life experiences bring all those traits we were born with to the forefront. The loss of control makes me feel imperfect and weak but isn't that what humanity is really all about? We are really perfect in our imperfection. This constant quest for perfection ultimately ends in never finding it. Even if we think we have it will never be quite good enough. I think part of letting up, even a little bit, is becoming flexible. Did I say I trouble with that as well? 

I was watching a you tube video by Rick Butts. (I've included the link) He's a marvelous speaker and he was talking about control and happiness. He mentioned that the times we were the happiest was when we were in control and the unhappiest times was when we felt out of control. How true is that statement? I felt like he was talking right to me. I am truly the source of my own stress. When life gets you crazy or when you get you crazy.......do something simple. Like washing the dishes. In other words, do what you can do and don't worry about what you can't do. Thank you Rick! I really mean that!

Life is filled with things that are out of our control. I've lived that and you'd think I would have learned that lesson by now.

I didn't. 

So what did I do?

I freaked.

Then I attended my pity party for one.

I denied it.

I got mad at it.

But I still haven't accepted it. (i'm working on it.)

But I am still doing the dishes.............

A VIEW FROM THE REAR

Yes.

I seem to still have some perfection issues.

My daughter is getting married next week and I am so excited. Her intended is wonderful and the families have blended perfectly. It's a fairy tale story with a very happy ending. I just have a couple of concerns that make me a tad unhappy.

Why, then, am I unhappy?

I'm really not looking forward to pictures. It's bad enough my self image has taken a major hit with all the Fibromyalgia, hypothyroidism and Hashimoto's crapola going on. No matter what I do the 30 pounds will not come off. I know I harp on this subject but it really bugs me. 

The fact is that I don't want to look like a stuffed sausage in pictures.

I have a hard time reconciling the old me with the new me. I know in my head it shouldn't matter but it does. I bought a beautiful dress and I keep trying it on and looking at myself from the back. Think about it. It makes perfect sense. I'll be walking down the aisle and everyone will have a rear view.  All I need now is the beeping sound for the truck backing up. OK.........I'm not quite that bad but in my head I might as well be.

I've said it before and I 'll say it again. A dress size shouldn't define me as a person. In one sense it doesn't but in another it absolutely does. 

Anyone find the sense in that statement? 

Anyway, I've got a week to go and I'll be starving myself for the better part of it so I can, maybe, take off a pound. So here I go..........I've tried walking everyday and getting some exercise. Did it help? No.

One week until the wedding.........

No pounds down.

And counting................

FAT FOR RESEARCH? OH BOY!

I just love research on chronic pain.
Now it's using your own fat.
I don't know about you.
But they can have ALL of mine.

I've never had a weight problem. Well, let me rephrase that. I never had a weight problem until I hit 50. I promised my daughter that I'd quit smoking and I started going through menopause. 

Need I say more?

Let me just say that I now understand how difficult it is to lose weight. I have struggled with it since and I've adjusted my eating accordingly, however, in the last couple of years it just doesn't matter what I do. The weight will just not come off. Growing up I was the one that my girlfriends hated. They could look at food and gain weight and me? I ate noodles with butter at midnight and never gained an ounce. I went away to school and instead of gaining the freshman 15, I lost it.

This sucks.

When I first got diagnosed with Fibromyalgia the doctor wanted to put me on Lyrica. Now, I'm one of those annoying people that refuse to follow doctor's orders. I want to research it first and then I'll decide if it will work for me. So, I googled Lyrica. No fricking way would I take that. The first side effect was weight gain. I've got enough trouble without adding to it. It's bad enough feeling like a stuffed sausage let alone having to be in pictures looking like one.

My self esteem was in the toilet anyway. I mean.........I don't want to look 20 again. Women that Botox and face lift  themselves until they become aliens.....well, it doesn't appeal to me. I don't mind a few wrinkles on my forehead or a couple of lines around my eyes. Truth be known, I actually like it. 

I figure I've earned them.

I love seeing pictures of the quintessential matriarch. The woman that looks stately and majestic. How wonderful! Every wrinkle and line show the joys and heartaches of her life. Every deep crag shows profound wisdom and every gnarled hand reaches down to comfort the next generation. We've seen those pictures and thought that age brought that woman through everything with dignity and grace. As I look in the mirror thinking about aging gracefully I never bargained for trading the swan like grace of my neck for the wonderful waddle of a turkey. 

That's enough to send me to the freezer for more Ben and Jerry's.

I still cry when I find another gray hair where there is NOT supposed to be one. I still pray that the hair I find on my face is a stray eyelash instead of the beginning of a mustache. And I still keep all my size 6 clothes in my closet praying that I will one day get into them.

I know there is not a perfect dress size. I know I shouldn't define myself by that number; but I do. I still sometimes think about the perfect dress size, the perfect abs, the perfect thighs and the perfect face. OK.......I am not putting the neck on that list.

There is the perfect neck and I miss mine desperately!

All of this came about because I saw an article about using our own body fat for stem cell therapy to treat chronic pain. Do you believe that one? One sentence and it sent me off on a tangent about body image. 

Obviously, it doesn't take much to bring me back full circle to the weight. 

Think I still have some perfection issues?

I know......I know.........it's all about the inside.

Yeah, right. 

A DIFFERENT KIND OF TEA PARTY

Courtesy of Stuff No One Told Me

What am I afraid of?

Sometimes, just myself.

I don't want to face my fears.

I would like to meet and understand them.

Facing my fears sounds like I want to annihilate them. I don't really. One of the hallmarks of my personality is the need for control. I don't like nasty surprises and I will do anything to avoid them. Part of my brain says if I can control my environment I will avoid some of the pitfalls that occur in daily life. I guess it's just part of my Type A squared personality. So continuing on in that vein, I really don't want to give up my need for control. I just want to understand why I do it and then maybe ease up......just a bit. 

Does the control factor really help me avoid the pitfalls?

No.


My other fear is walking into a dark house. I will not turn off all the lights to save the power bill. No fricking way! I have to leave the lights on so that I will not walk into a dark room. Don't ask me what happened. I have no idea. All I know is that if all the lights are out someone else is going in that house first. However, back to control...........


The control factor, or loss thereof, is probably my biggest fear. For example, I've hated to fly for so long because of that very issue of control. I was in a real, real bad flight coming back from San Diego and that pretty much flipped the switch on that one. I didn't want to be 30,000 feet up in a cigar tube and find out the pilot had lost control of the plane. 


I don't like chronic illness because I've lost control of my body and I don't know what symptom or problem is going to strike next. You'd think I wouldn't like to drive because of the car accident but that's not true at all. It's the car accident caused the lack of control with chronic illness.  Weird, how we react to different things. You would think that I'd realize that life itself has no controls but I haven't gotten that through my thick head yet. 


Control issues cause a great deal of stress. I still haven't figured out a balance between my Type A (squared) and a Type B personality. I want to strike a balance in my old age. I just don't know how to find it. It's just this blasted Type A personality. Even at an early age it came out with my records and shoes. It came out with me trying to exercise control over situations and my body. The infamous potato chip fiasco comes to mind. Why my mother EVER let me carry a glass bowl filled with ANYTHING is beyond me. Grace was not my middle name; it still isn't. Anyway, I was carrying this glass bowl and tripped. Potato chips flying, people hysterical, blood everywhere and all I want is "to see me bleed." Everyone else was out of control, but me? Not only no, but hell no. Oh, by the way, I was four.


I think we are born with certain traits and life experiences bring them to the forefront. A loss of control makes me feel imperfect and weak. I hate that! I shouldn't use the word imperfect; maybe, what I'm realizing is that I'm not as strong as I like to think I am. I truly am an imperfect being and imperfect means to fail. It's the bar that I set for myself and it's a bar that can never truly be reached. I can count every single one of my imperfections and I hate that too. All of these little issues makes me realize that I can't count on myself physically and sometimes even count on myself emotionally.


I would like to get to a point where I joy in the imperfections. There can be a beauty in something that is imperfect. We can see it in everything but ourselves. Instead of seeing joy in our uniqueness and imperfections,  we hate every single one of them and wish to exercise control over them. The quest of perfection isn't a destination because whatever we find will ultimately never be good enough. We will never have control over them.


So when I happen to open a closet door and cautiously peek around the corner to meet my fear face to face realize I'm not going in there with great guns. 


I'm more or less going to ask them to tea.

I WISH I MAY, I WISH I MIGHT, HAVE THE WISH I WISH TONIGHT

It hurts when I am in pain.

It hurts even more when I witness the pain of my friends.

Physical.

Emotional.

Spiritual.

Pain is pain.

And I wish that I could wish it away.

It's beginning to look like we actually might get some rain. The humidity is rising and my hands are beginning to throb. Yep, it's just another night in paradise. I've been using the new pain cream that I bought and I think it really does help the pain in my legs a little bit. So, as I sit here knowing it's going to be a long night, I read some emails from friends. Emails that expressed concern, emails that revealed dejection and depression and emails that told me about pain.

I've always said pain is pain. It doesn't matter how we think about it. All that matters is how the person who is in pain feels about it.

From the moment we open our eyes to the moment we close them we're engaged in battle.  The women I know who battle pain day in and day out are amazingly strong. We all think we're wimps but nothing is farther from the truth. We battle depression that springs from pain. We battle constant pain that ranges from throbbing to gut wrenching. We battle ourselves because we constantly think that we're inadequate. 

I think most of us deal with the issue of perfection and the fact that we'll never reach it. We are learning that it's okay to be human. Instead of looking at it as failure we are learning to accept ourselves. Instead of having a rigid view of life, we are learning to be flexible. Part of it is that we have kept a part of ourselves private. Privacy was something I valued above all else. Blogging, however, changed all of that. I learned about myself and I learned that there are people that I've never met who accept me for myself more than my own family. I have opened up more on this blog than I ever thought I would and I found out that others did the same thing.

I found out that this invisible illness has made us visible.

We decided that we wanted to be educated and educate others about this mysterious illness that plagues us. We became seekers. We've waded through the swamps to find out the truth. We found out that what works for some may not work for us. We're learning that we must discard the negative feelings that come from the supposed well-wishers who dispense unwanted medical advice. Advice that basically says we've done this to ourselves and if we want to get better we must get up and move around. We have become our own doctors because we found out that we know more about us than they do.

We are the people of duality. We are stoic and we are tender. We are strong and yet we are weak. We are the wimps and the warriors. We are the brave and yet we're cowards. We stand tall and unafraid but yet we fear. We are rigid but yet we are flexible. We are reserved and private but yet so open and vulnerable. It's no wonder that we're confused. There are times that we don't know which way to go.

So tonight is going to be a very long night. I've taken pain medication and the muscle spasms are still breaking through. The pain is reaching levels that will keep me awake most of the night.  I know that I'm not the only one who goes through this. We all have times like this and I think about the people that I've been blessed to meet through this blog. When you have nights or times like the one I'm having tonight be comforted in knowing that you're not alone. That thought has gotten me through some very tough times.

So to you my friends:

I wish you freedom from pain.

I wish you sound sleep.

I wish you comfort.

I wish you strength.

But most of all, I wish all your wishes come true.

I

KICKING THE HORNET'S NEST

I feel like the girl who kicked the bee's nest.
Why are the bee's flying around me now?
Gee, I don't want to get stung....
I shouldn't have kicked the damn nest in the first place.

I read a friend's post and she was talking about how she blew it big time and it started me thinking. Well, how it started out she was rationalizing how a reasonable woman would never take candy from their child's Easter basket. First of all, I've done that a million times and I still feel no shame. It was the part about acting out and having all these issues and regrets that started me thinking.

And that's a very bad thing.

I start getting introspective and it does a couple of things. First of all it gives me headaches because there are so many issues that I have to deal with and I'm still not crazy about digging up all that pain. The second thing it does is make me reach for either chocolate or donuts and that can be either singular or plural. It's not a good thing for my backside because I still have that 25 pounds that I have to lose and just thinking about that hammers my self esteem.

The self esteem issue is probably a huge one because I struggle with it on a daily basis. I look in the mirror and see a woman in pain. No matter how you cut it pain still shows up on your face and you can always see it in your eyes. You can smile but pain will never fool your eyes. I have become someone that I don't know. Or have I? Is this the woman that was there all the time and I just kept her hidden away? Is all of this finally showing and I'm just now seeing it? 

I hope not.

I keep coming back to this issue of perfection and I still don't have it quite right. See the irony here? I just don't know why sometimes I feel that I'm just not good enough. Some people stuff their issues and some people medicate or drink away their issues. I sought to love mine away. If I was just good enough they would all go away. Of course, I wasn't good enough so the quest began again. I set myself up for failure. There would always be flaws because we are all imperfect beings. The opposite side of that coin, for me, was that I expected them to leave so I was always ready for that possibility. 

I'm just now beginning to see what that issue cost me. 

I had an ex that loved to manipulate situations. It wasn't for any love of me or what was best for me. It was all a game and what was best for him in that moment. Unfortunately, I didn't see it at the time and it set into motion a number of events that I will forever regret. We don't get through this life without making mistakes and I have made a couple of beauties. I cannot go back but I am going forward. What I want the past to do is help me NEVER to make the same mistake again. The other thing I hope that it does is give me wise counsel so that if someone I care for is about to make the same mistake I can help them before they go down that same path.

There are times that I wish I had a time machine and could go back in time. I would do things so differently. I would react oh-so differently and I would stand at those forks in the road and take a completely different path. I would speak in tenderness instead of anger and I would stand instead of retreating. I would laugh instead of cry and I would have chosen right instead of wrong. I would have understood what the saying, "by the choices we make we create the life we have," meant and chosen wisely.

What I have learned is to choose the higher ground. I think before I speak and I try never to say anything that I don't mean because once it comes out of your mouth you can never take it back. I think I have more compassion and tolerance for myself than I ever did before. While I still have plenty of things to deal with, I don't hate myself as much as I used to. I have learned how to say no and not feel guilty and I have come to the realization that everyone doesn't have to like me. Maybe, just maybe, I am beginning to believe that I just may be enough. Well, that's a big maybe.

Does this mean I'm becoming a grown-up?

PERFECTION

It rained. 

The wind was  blowing. 

Then it stopped. 

There is a lot of emotion and introspection when pain hits. I think I'm still dealing with perfection issues and that is the basis of the problems I'm having right now. This disease brings to light that we are not perfect and, as much as we don't like it, we might have to ask for help. 

Help comes in different forms. Asking for anything has never been easy for me. I've always been the one who's offered help but taking it is another thing altogether. I abhor being in a position of weakness and that is what asking for help does to me. I know I shouldn't be that way but something in me hates accepting anything from anyone. 

Does it make me feel obligated? 

Maybe. 

I think it's more than that, though. I still say it makes me imperfect and weak. It makes me realize that I'm not as strong as I think I am and I can't take care of myself all the time. It's self-reliance and I may not be in total control of my destiny. I hate that.

I set this bar of perfection for myself. I don't care what it is. My biggest problem is that I've gained weight due to thyroid issues and inactivity. I can't accept it. I look at my face or my body and end up hating myself. If I'm not attaining the perfection that I set for myself then I've failed and I hate to fail at anything. I just want to give up trying to be perfect and just be who I am. 

If I do anything I do it all the way. I work hard, play hard and rest hard. I also got sick hard. I guess I've been perfect at that as well. I wake up everyday thinking that I'll set these realistic boundaries for myself and once again I find a way to count everyone of my imperfections. I find a way to include just one more task, one more email or one more activity that I know will hurt me tomorrow. 

I know all this and still I do it.

I do it and then I beat myself up for it. 

What does it take to reach a point of acceptance? Sometimes I think acceptance and resignation is the same as defeat. There we go again. Anything less than perfection is failure. I know I should let go and let God deal with it. All this faith that I claim to have has not remedied this in my life. I do have faith but I don't know how to let go and let God deal with these issues. In my head I know that I'm an imperfect being but the bar that I've set for myself is a different issue altogether.

How do I change that?

I really want to learn.