Middle Age Stress

Late this spring, my doctor took my blood pressure and expressed concern about how high it was. “What type of stress are you under right now?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing, really,” I replied. She prodded a little, and then I said, “I just finished grad school, and I suppose that was stressful, but it’s over now. My husband and I are going to marriage counselling for the first time, because we’re about to celebrate our 25th anniversary and we’ve been trying to make some significant changes in the way our relationship functions. And my daughter moved out last year for university and I miss her so much. My son is going into grade 12 and I’ve been seeing a counsellor to prepare for an empty nest. We’re going to Europe this July, visiting 10 countries in 3.5 weeks, and there’s been a lot of prep, but other than that, I can’t think of anything.”

My doctor stared at me for an uncomfortable amount of time, then she said in a gentle tone, “Julianne, any one of those things could cause a lot of stress. Add them all together and I can see why your blood pressure is so high.”

I burst into tears. I realised after that appointment how tempting it can be to minimise my experiences. I’ve spent a lifetime doing that, so that I’m not causing difficulties or discomfort to anyone else. I bear all of that shit myself, until it becomes so heavy that I can’t carry it any longer and the whole house of cards comes tumbling down.

That happened for me this past June. But I couldn’t begin to understand or even acknowledge it then. Even now, months later, it still feels strange to type it out here. I feel removed from the story. It’s like I’m watching it happen to someone else.

My wonderful doctor told me to look after myself more. To get more sleep, to try a variety of lifestyle changes in order to lower my blood pressure. I remember saying to her, quite indignantly, “My blood pressure has always been perfect.” She responded with, “We’re all healthy until we’re not.”

I felt mild shame about my increased blood pressure, even when my doctor assured me that it wasn’t a character flaw. But it felt like one. We went to Europe, and I struggled my way through the trip that was designed as a celebration of our quarter-century marriage, my fiftieth birthday, Ava’s belated high school graduation and my MFA grad. Each day in a new country felt overwhelming and frightening. I was lost, and couldn’t recognise myself, which frankly scared the shit out of me.

This fall, my doctor suggested hormone therapy as we began to realise that so many of my symptoms were tied to perimenopause. I started on estrogen, and after a few weeks I stopped crying all the time for no discernible reason and a host of other symptoms started to abate. But my blood pressure remained high, so I just started on a low dose of medicine to try to bring that down.

It’s lovely to feel supported and cared for in my doctor’s office. It’s one of the first times in my life I’ve had this level of kindness from a medical professional. I’m going to turn 51 in just over a month, and my 50th year has been incredibly challenging on a number of fronts. But progress is being made, and that’s worth celebrating. My new counsellor has me saying, “I’m learning how to do things differently” while writing down the words DO LESS and looking at them every day. She has me trying to care for myself the way I’ve long cared for others, and learning how to receive nurture and love which I’m not good at doing.

It’s a strange experience to speak and teach on topics of wellness and mental health, while struggling day by day on a practical level with it myself. I told the teachers I worked with at a conference in October that I’m working on allowing myself to be sad, and scared, and giving myself permission to not have all the answers. It was truly beautiful how many teachers told me after my sessions how much my vulnerability had meant to them. In theory, I knew that vulnerable sharing is the key to true connection with others, but to understand this by experiencing it was next-level stuff.

I know from talking to several friends that this perimenopause/menopause journey (that’s an overly generous word for it; the first one I typed was ‘nightmare’) can last five or more years. Some who are on the other side of it told me to use these uncomfortable symptoms as an invitation to slow down, and take better care of myself. My counsellor says this stage is about getting comfortable with grieving for the end of childbearing and bringing up children. It’s painful to finish one chapter and move into another one, but that process happens so many times in our lives. Grief feels like a spot-on word.

So we carry on. I’m trying to be gentler, and move a little slower, and stay present. It’s helpful to know that others have gone through this and survived (even eventually thrived). I’d love to hear from you if you have any words of wisdom or encouragement for me in these new and weird perimenopause days. It feels so big and scary in the middle of it, but I also know it’s natural and an important life transition. Most of all, it’s great to know we are not alone.

Sit With It

Are you overwhelmed by stress? Do you feel frustrated, sad, scared, hopeless or some mix of these elements? You don’t have to fix it. Try SWIT: sit with it.

It’s my new philosophy. I used to rush in so hard to every emotion, situation, relationship or problem I faced. I had the solution, dammit, and I’d make it fit no matter what.

One of the great benefits of getting older is not giving so many shits about what isn’t actually my business. And even when it is my business, I’m not God and I often can’t see the forest for the trees, so when I hurry a fix to a complicated issue, I’m making it worse instead of better.

Try it. Simply sit with what is bugging you.

Weight

Feel fat? So do I. Rather than obsessing or shaming or radically changing your diet or exercise plan, just sit with it for a little while. Allow it to be near you. Notice why it bothers you. Don’t fix it. Sit with it.

It works like meditation does: by slowing down and cutting across the mental noise we experience every day. Ever notice how much bigger and harder something seems when you are trying not to focus on it? The SWIT plan invites the worry, person, concept or problem in rather than forcing it out.

Speak gently to the areas that bother you the most. Allow your fear to come and sit with you. Offer it a place (let’s be honest, it has one anyway, and when you don’t acknowledge the terror it only takes up more of your mental space) and show it some grace and love. You don’t have to interact with it or make it disappear. Soothe it. Breathe through it until you achieve a bit of comfort with it so close to you.

This idea of sitting with what makes me uncomfortable has really moved the needle forward on my ability to love myself. It’s given me a practical way to extend care to my wounded heart. I’m working on loving my body, exactly as it is right now, thirty pounds more than I want it to be, and simply sitting with it and offering no judgement or solutions has been so freeing.

Technology

Most of us live like scared rabbits in 2017. Technology has taken over and we are held tightly in its iron fist. Turning off our digital devices requires a heroic amount of courage. Many times I fail to do what I long to do (hit the off button). I’m practicing SWIT with my technology, too. The addiction is so big – too far gone to fix it with one simple measure. Breathing, closing my eyes and inviting my dependence on my technology to be near me is enough for now.

People

When I struggle with another person, I’m trying to use the SWIT idea to bring them near. Alone, I summon them in a soft voice and tell them why I’m hurt or upset. I practice wishing them well and extending the type of care and affection I have no problem offering to those I love.

I speak in a reassuring voice, saying, “It will be all right. We’re going to make it through this.” I know that this is for me and not for them, but it helps to smooth out the rough edges in our next interaction. While I’m sitting with people who bug me, I also remember to remind myself that I’m not responsible for their side of our relationship – only mine.

When we acknowledge what frightens us, we immediately loosen its grip. Bring it slowly into the light. Break the secrecy and the shame that blooms in the dark like a fungus. Anything that hurts you, learn to sit with it until you can begin to work with it.

Baby steps are required. But strength comes when we talk openly about what matters, what injures our souls, what steals our precious time, attention and resources. I’m learning to sit with the hard stuff, without giving in to the pressure I feel to have the answers and the solutions. Anyone joining me in my mission to SWIT?

Managing Expectations

Managing Expectations

Managing expectations is a tricky area for me. It’s not my strongest suit, but I’m going to launch in as bravely as I can and see what I might have to say on this topic that can hang so many of us up.

It’s a beautiful idea to release your expectations and just accept what is. I’m sure that this method provides more happiness than the angsty hand-wringing that I’m fond of doing, but getting from stress to surrender is the hard part.

Like many of us, I know what I want in life, or at least I think what I want will bring me satisfaction, contentment, money, happiness, etc. I hate getting caught up in the spider web that is our culture’s inane idea of what success is supposed to look like, and yet it happens again and again to me.

I got a bad review recently from one of the sessions I presented at a teacher’s convention. The material I offered was not at all what this teacher was looking for. It threw me for a loop, because I heard a lot of positive feedback right after the session. It’s one thing to know in theory that you are not everyone’s cup of tea, and another thing to read it so bluntly in black letters on a white screen.

I’m querying a manuscript again and getting plenty of rejection. With each fresh “no thanks, your writing is not for me” my heart sinks and it’s only natural to wonder what the hell I’m doing with my life. But then a bit of time passes and I remind myself that it just takes one person to connect with my work. Not everyone is going to like it and that is totally fine.

But it’s hard. There’s no way for it not to be. The key is not to wrap my self-esteem up in the product I’m putting out in the world (writing, speaking, etc.) and keep the expectations reasonable. It’s going to be a long road, with plenty of bumps and detours and setbacks. Not quitting is what matters.

I think the best thing to do is to stay busy with other projects. You want fresh ideas flowing so you don’t fixate on what might be stagnating in one area of your work or life. Just keep going, and try not to obsess over why nothing seems to be going your way. One day you’ll step up to bat and the ball will connect with that satisfying thwack. You can’t predict when it will be and you’ll probably have to strike out a lot to get to that one thrilling hit.

Our expectations tie us up in all kinds of unpleasant knots. I’m determined to push on, in spite of the many roadblocks in front of me. So much of this life is subjective. One person loves what you’re doing and the next person despises or ignores it. It’s important not to take it personally. I have to believe that what I’m doing has value. It also helps to be reminded that a little bit of kindness goes a long way.

 

The Key to Personal Freedom

The Key to Personal Freedom

Freedom from other people’s approval is an ongoing struggle for many of us, but when we experience small victories it’s important to step back and take stock of just how far we have come.

I used to crave approval like it was a drug. I was only okay if someone else gave me permission. The entire world looked different when I realized that I could give myself the approval I yearned for instead of searching for it from others.

It’s helpful with all growth to measure it in tiny incremental steps. Something in our human nature wants instant gratification (a condition only worsening with the internet available in our pocket, where any touch of a button yields immediate results) so anything less feels like failure. But the only way to sustain change is to approach it in little ways that don’t completely overwhelm us.

the-key-topersonal-freedomA person was angry with me recently and I didn’t become unhinged like I would have a few years ago. I was able to breathe through my anxiety and halt any developing shame spirals. I said calmly to myself, “I’m allowed to own my feelings and actions and this person is allowed to own theirs. We don’t have to agree. I’m okay.”

This type of positive self talk is huge in recovery from people pleasing. It takes us down off the ledge, turning mild hysteria magically back into tranquility. It felt so good to see how far I have come with my new and healthier skills. The exchange I had with this person knocked me off my stride for ten minutes instead of ten days, months or even decades.

The key to personal freedom is incremental growth. It’s one small alteration at a time, which over years adds up to a big difference in a moment of stress when you really need it. When a person can no longer push your buttons and get the expected reaction from you, you’ll know you have cut the cord and broken free. Now you are fully in charge of your own reactions and emotions, but this wouldn’t have happened for me without all of the hard soul work that came before.

We are all human. We make mistakes. We can become mired in a swamp of other people’s approval and get stuck, spinning our wheels and stewing over what other people are doing. But we can also make different choices, on any given day, and start to build a bridge to our own freedom. We can say, “This is unacceptable. I am worth more than this. I want kindness, honesty and love with no strings attached.”

We can stand up for ourselves and taste how joyful that feeling is. We are not responsible for other people’s happiness. Only our own. And getting to that understanding in our actual experience is what sets us free.

Rekindling Hope

Rekindling Hope

When hope rekindles where you once felt empty and bereft, it’s like coming alive again. It’s the first twitch in your fingers, signalling that your coma is ending and you are returning to a state of normalcy again.

These last three months have been a true slog. Unpredictable, scary, lonely, exciting and sad, all boiled up together in a stew of change.

Every day, I tell myself to be kind and gentle in order to survive a seriesrekindling-hope of hurdles to my preferred stable routines, but the relief of finally being in our own space again this past week has loosened something primitive in me. I’ve become unhinged, crying at random intervals and experiencing a near-catatonic internal state as a reaction to rising panic and dread.

I felt certain that my growth work of the last few years had been tragically reversed by this provincial move. I craved the order and calm I fought so hard to establish in Alberta, but it has eluded me at every turn since we’ve arrived in BC.

When will I learn to stop being so fatalistic and permanent with my dire predictions? When I’m under extreme stress, it’s important to recognize this and love myself through it, the way I would assist a friend, my husband or my kids. Instead, I decide that the jig is up and I’ll never be happy or peaceful again.

The type of upheaval we have gone through since the summer is bound to cause disruption. It must be my coping mechanism to forecast disaster in the face of what I cannot control. This is how I made it through childhood with a mentally ill and alcoholic father and an emotionally icy mother.

I learned not to count on anything. I anticipated the worst possible outcome so that anything less felt manageable. I’ve carried this unhealthy skill into adulthood and it hangs me up from time to time.

The solution is to acknowledge what is going on and to work at changing my fearful reactions. I’m the grown-up now, responsible for two children of my own. It’s up to me to model better responses for my kids to follow.

This too shall pass. Stress is not a permanent state. I’m responsible for my own mental health. When I feel unmoored and lost, like I do now, I must slow down and make the effort to reconnect with myself. Jason and I went on a dinner date this weekend and I had serious trouble vulnerably sharing with him. I realized it was because I was so far from myself.

At least I know what the job is now. I have to turn my signs of life back into actual life. It’s time to tend to my own soul; to find my equilibrium and the peace of mind I’ve been missing. Self care is a daily practice. When it’s neglected, nothing feels right or balanced. I have hope that I can return to my previous state of mental health if I give myself some time and effort.