December 15, 2011

last sunday would have been josh's 33rd birthday.  normally, i am not one to stress over or commemorate those dates but recent events wore down my protective shell and the december 11th sunrise siphoned away my sunday morning serenity.  thoughts and empathy for the shocked families of a broken little girl with a heart too weak to overcome her lifelong illness, a devastated mother searching for her son lost to conspiracy theories, mental illness and meth, and a kind family man accidentally trapped and damaged and ultimately lost to those injuries consumed me and rubbed raw the callouses i have formed to protect myself from my own losses.  knowing the challenges, the questions, and the sadness these families will encounter opened old wounds and made them feel new again and i had to decide how i would tend to my injuries and which direction i would take to minimize my misery and to provide aide for these families.

i went for a walk in the woods today.  the new fluffy snow, while beautiful and sparkly in the sunshine, was not deep enough to fill the ruts and the uneven ground worked my ankles.   i hiked up a trail i have covered many times and, for most of my climb, i followed two sets of tracks.  i used the indents of these ski tracks to determine my direction while my mind processed and purged.  at first, as i walked between this pair of tracks, i felt isolated and inadequate.  i couldn't manage the ground they covered together and my wide, clunky footfalls didn't match their sleek, skinned skis.  and, for some reason, this made me feel small and lonely.  it occurred to me that this feeling of weakness was not due to being alone on the trail but more a result of the situation that occurred the night prior and it was just being played out in front of me through physical means in order to force me to evaluate my emotional needs.  while attending a basketball game i had seen my neighbor and had given her a hug but when our eyes connected, i could not separate her fresh widowhood status and her shock from my own abandonment and loss and for a moment i could not remember how to breathe, let alone come up with words to provide her some comfort.  i walked away fighting the panic and the sobs rising in my throat and it took a few minutes to regain the confidence required to take another breath and another step.  after a few minutes, i regained some composure and was able to enjoy the game instead of simply focusing on how to keep oxygen moving through my bloodstream. 

after a few minutes though, both at the game and on the hill side, i began to feel some security from the support of those who inhabited these spaces before me, those who share the space i currently occupy,  and those who had travelled this trail prior to my arrival and, even with the diversity of life experiences and modes of transport, a feeling of safety emerged and i knew i could move forward.  i had too.  what other choice is there?   it was in that place in my emotional train of thought that the tracks i had been following veered to the left of my tentatively chosen route and i stood still for a moment debating whether i should continue to follow or go off on my own.  following the tracks had become too comfortable and the risk of going somewhere i didn't want to go was increasing and because i wanted to climb higher, i chose to follow the un-tracked trail to the right and continue up the hillside on my own.  as i hiked, i began to hear birds.  lots of them.  i stopped short for a moment to consider the disconnect as this chorus is more indicative of springtime and i wondered if these birds were as confused as i was. i determined, however, that they sounded happy and this made me smile and my wounds began to slowly heal themselves and that weight, so centered on the middle of my soul, began to lift and my eyes cleared allowing me to see more clearly.  as i moved forward, i saw several deer running through the woods and later, a bull moose that stood and stared at me for a few minutes.  making eye contact with this large animal, in his habitat, created a feeling of stillness for me and i felt like i belonged there, too.  i had moved, bravely forward, on my own after the ski tracks moved to the left and i was quickly rewarded with the knowledge that i was not alone and i was being protected.

i have often felt like one of the "gifts" we are sometimes given in the midst of trial and loss is the ability to recognize the gifting while it is happening.  not surprisingly, we tend to be so overwhelmed by the experiences that catch and injure us that it feels like all we can do is manage to take one breath and one step after another in order to survive and anything else is just too much.  but, for me, even when i feel my most alone and my most insecure, looking for what i am being given, in that moment, helps.  if i could go back to the corridor outside that ballgame with that brave sad wife and if i could share with all those that are suffering significant losses i would tell them to look for the little gifts and allow them to ease the weight, if only for a few minutes, and to let these gifts remind us that we are not alone.

what would you put in your God Box?

for my job as well as in my life i talk to a lot of people, or rather, a lot of people talk to me.  there is something about the physical closeness of patient care and removing skin cancers that seems to create a safe environment for sharing.  i hear stories of illness and struggles, insecurities and losses. and, i am reminded that i am not the only one.

usually, i wonder what their method of healing is and often, when i ask, the answer is some version of prayer and perseverance.   and with that, there is hope for eventual change and peace.  sometimes, however, i can see the impact of the trials sitting on their shoulders and their features drag from burden.  i am sensitive to it, i think, because the look of it is something i have seen before.  i saw it on my dad during the last year of his life as the weight of his issues seemed to compress him until he even appeared smaller than his actual frame would allow and i see it on other people i care about as i watch them navigate life.

i went run/walking with a friend one morning and, in the dark, we talked about life and watched the stars.  we chattered about the basic fluffy stuff that keeps us busy and we stayed away from any real topic that would require energy to process.  she and i both, though our issues vary greatly, normally relieve our occasional bouts of emotional stress through physical means but presently, the health and strength of our bodies has limited our ability to do that.  so, for that day, we tabled the insecurities, the losses, and the economy and we moved toward Cassiopeia and around to Ursa Major and we sent those unspoken thoughts to the sky and by the time we were back to Orion, we were home again.

the stars used to be the only way for people and sailors to navigate and find their way home.  as technology has advanced and modern conveniences have been developed, though, this practice is rarely used and i find this a bit unfortunate.  in some ways, the invention of the light bulb, while immensely valuable, impacts one's ability to even see the stars.  people, in populated areas with big city lights, may not notice how bright the stars can really be.  as a country girl, i often slept outside and gazed at the stars and knew that someone great must have made them twinkle and fall for me. and now, as an adult, i find myself seeking the stars and their creator when i am stressed and in need of comfort.  there is something about viewing the expanse of the universe that creates a diametric feeling of closeness to me.  it's like i can see the space the constellations fill circled around me and i feel safe.

when i think about the people in my life and those i encounter at work, i hope they have or can find something that brings them peace.  there are portions of our troubles that, no matter what we do, we have no ability to control or to make them right through our own endeavors, especially, when our history and past circumstances impact our present.  somehow, though it is difficult, we all have to figure out how to let go of certain items of insecurity in order to move on and let new things in.  for me, i have to turn off the chaos by turning off the lights so that i can see the stars and their creator more clearly.  for others, however, it may not be that simple.

someone i know recently bought themselves a special box to put their troubles in.  a receptacle to place the panic in that only God can possibly resolve.  it's important, i believe, when times are tough and faith is challenged to have something tangible that allows one to physically give away those unsettling fears to an unseen being and ask Him to remove them from you.  for many, without that box to put their hands on and without the ceremony of gifting those pains to a higher power, praying just seems too far-reaching or simply may not feel like enough action to create the desired results.

that's why i feel like this box idea is genius!

so, here is my question...  What would you put in your God Box?

taste, touch, sight, smell, hear...plus one

last year, when ty was in kindergarten he brought home a series of pictures used to teach kids about the 5 senses. each picture had an enlarged body part that coincided with the sense being taught on that particular day until he knew about sight, smell, taste, touch, and hearing. when ty learned about taste, he brought home a picture with a giant tongue on it. ty learned about how sometimes, for whatever reason, a person may have diminished capacity in one sense and their brain reacts by heightening another sense to accommodate for the handicap. for example, a blind person may have an extraordinary sense of hearing to help them navigate their dark surroundings.

last week for my birthday, i followed a trail and a map and my brother jaren on a 22 mile hike that started in idaho and ended in wyoming. before we left, jaren asked our mom to cuddle his baby for him while we were gone hiking for the day. jaren has become my workout buddy and i knew he would be willing to accompany me over the mountains. i noticed while walking behind him,that anytime there was a boulder within arms length jaren would reach out and slide his fingertips across it to feel its' texture and temperature.

while hiking the winding trails, my mind wandered with me and covered all the topics that patrol my thoughts these days. i thought about my sister, lisa, and how much i miss her, and how deeply she experiences things, and how she is, finally, living the life she deserves filled with love and travel and athletic success. and, i thought about how when she hugs me she smells my hair. she says it helps her remember me while we are apart.

near sunset lake, jaren and i sat on a flat rock and looked at the topographical map that my oldest brother johnny printed for me on his architectural plotter. johnny, ever the quiet observer, has left his capable footprints on many a ridge top and canyon floor. he once exclaimed amazement at all the different shades of green there are in nature and, that statement, changed the way i looked at the world and fueled my interest to spend more time in the wilderness.

the world sometimes presents trials and ailments and my brother joey, a doctor, has learned how to ease them. with a stethoscope in his ears, he listens to heartbeats and without judgement, he provides support. once, joey heard the way a certain high-school senior talked to me and steered me away when i was too naive to know better and that was when i knew he had my back and would always take care of me.

for the last few miles of our hike, i led and jaren followed. i felt the coolness, emanating from the forest and the mountain fed lake, on my salty sun-parched lips as i jogged over the rolling landscape leading to the parking lot. while waiting for our ride, i purchased two bottles of chocolate milk and smiled with satisfaction after pouring the sweet liquid over my tongue and down my throat. the cold milk, a polar opposite of the warm water i had been drinking from my bleach-treated bladder bag, had intense flavor and it whet my appetite. when our ride arrived i asked her to navigate straight to a jackson hole restaurant for chunky salsa, salty chips, and a skillet-full of sizzling fajitas.

after 17 years, i can't identify my siblings without thinking about my youngest brother, josh. he died in a car accident at age 15. he had a big personality and people were drawn to him. somehow, it seemed, that he was able to orchestrate and entertain the masses and people often found themselves doing things for him. he had big blue eyes and long eyelashes that made it hard to say no to him. he was funny, and popular, and knew how to wink at girls. and, being around josh minimized our weaknesses and heightened our quality of life.

while driving home from my hike, it occurred to me, that together, my siblings and i make up a whole unit of senses and we all have our own unique abilities to share. when one sense is diminished, another is sent to provide support through their individual capabilities. my sense of taste and my love of good food is the catalyst i use to bring my family together or to comfort those in need. i cook and they come. this, sometimes, is the only thing i have to offer and i pray that it is enough. the others, follow their own senses and provide service accordingly.

and, somehow, this process is orchestrated by a sibling that no longer shares our space but continues to heighten our quality of life, help us navigate our surroundings, allow accommodation for our handicaps, and to remind us that we are not alone.

rushing through august

i spent a summer or two, years ago, on idaho rivers kayaking with my brothers. we slid into our kayaks early in the day and played in the water until evening, only stopping to eat and warm ourselves on the sandy banks.  when water rushes downstream over rocks and other landscapes it can create waves and those waves are put into "classes" according to their size.  the class of a rapid can help a kayak-er determine whether their own skill level is adequate for its' difficulty.  i, however, had a habit of judging a rapid simply by how queasy my stomach felt while i was looking at it.  there was one such string of rapids located on a sharp 90 degree turn in a river that was quite intimidating to me.  i watched, as several of our party successfully navigated the big water and then i had a choice, i could follow the more experienced kayak-ers and learn something new or i could hop out of my craft and portage around the rapid.  choosing to portage would have relieved my anxiety but it would have been, more so than paddling through the rapids, physically challenging as it would require me to carry all of my gear up a steep embankment and around large boulders and then back down the hillside to the water.  secondary to the physical fatigue of this endeavor was the fact that, mentally, i would take a step back and my fear of future rapids would continue.

for multiple reasons, the last year or so has been physically and emotionally tasking for me and my confidence has been low anyway but august, the entire month, seems to suck the marrow out of my bones a little bit more as each day builds up on the calendar.  in august of 2004, just days after my dad took his own life, i decided to continue training for my planned race even though the recent events made me feel, physically, like i was running through taffy and i could barely breathe.  three weeks later, i finished the mesa falls 1/2 marathon, my 1st race of that distance, and proved to myself that i could face hard hill climbs and pain and still keep moving.

ty was born in late june of 2005 and three weeks later i climbed onto the saddle of my dad's road bike for the first time ever and started training for the rush triathlon.  the rush, a race i had watched a few times with my dad, was to be held on the third saturday in august and i knew i had to do it, both for him and to provide a distraction for me.   with my doctor's approval, barring any bleeding issues,  i trained for 26 straight days and then finished the sprint distance for, and in memory of, my dad who never got to do it.

i have participated in the rush triathlon every august since then, without question, until this year.  i started running consistently in the spring of 2004 after a late mis-carriage and i trained year-round at a high level of intensity and stayed in really good shape.  in fact, three years ago i was called on a wednesday evening to join a 3 person relay team for 50 mile mountain race being held on saturday.  when jimmy, not a fan of my last minute decisions, asked me why i had to do it i reminded him that not many people are in good enough shape or are willing to run 18 miles in the mountains with only a few days notice.  this last year though, my training has been at the lowest intensity and very sporadic and my confidence has suffered tremendously for it causing me to question my ability to race. 

when august of 2011 began its' inevitable squeeze on my psyche i decided that more consistent training was necessary to keep myself moving and to help pull myself out of the taffy.  as i covered mile after very slow mile i began to realize that many of my august issues are old stresses that have been buried or, somehow, portaged around and left unresolved.  issues, like feeling inadequate, being rejected and abandoned, losing control, and not being good enough began to resurface and force a confrontation and i have been warring with myself for a couple of weeks trying to make sense of it.

relationships with loved ones have suffered the august effects, too, and upon hearing about an issue i was having with olivia, a friend mentioned  that my daughter was just trying to figure out who she is.  while this thought struck me as an accurate conclusion for the behavior of a soon-to-be-teenaged girl, i realized that it is true for me, too. 
last wednesday, i got a phone call from the race director of the rush wondering if i was going to return and defend my title as the previous years winner and course record holder.  as he is also my friend, he asked me why i had not registered and was there anything he could do to help me out.  i told him no at the time but little did he know (or maybe he knows me too well...) that he started a train of thought that took me back to the river and that kayak and i had to decide if i would portage or participate.

i was intimidated by my perception of others' expectations of me and how i should perform and i knew my lack of training would prevent me from competing at the level i have become accustomed to.  i felt that my current skill level was not equivilent to the class of terrain i would encounter for this race.   i thought, however, that portaging this particular event was a bad idea and any physical pain and fatigue would be worth the resulting confidence boost and distraction i would receive as i worked my way through the course.  i knew that i could not possibly out-perform my well-trained competitors and this would relieve some of the pressure but i also knew that part of me would try and i wasn't convinced i had it in me to cause my self more suffering than i was already experiencing. i made myself a little queasy trying to decide and had to chew on a few antacids to settle my stomach, just as i used to before big water sections in my kayak.

as life happens, i try to adapt and evolve and move forward and in some ways i am in a constant state of re-evaluating and searching to find who i am and like the waves on the rivers, i am always changing. however, for me, the most consistently successful way to resolve issues, gain confidence, and feel peace is through athletic endeavors, like the rush triathlon, climbing mountains, and kayaking idaho rivers.  and, if i surround myself with other athletes at those events i can soak up their energy and i will grow without much effort.  as i become physically stronger, i build mental muscle that provides me the courage to confront whatever the landscape is that creates the waves i sometimes encounter and portaging, while sometimes necessary, is often detrimental to that process.

years ago, i chose to face those rapids head-on and i felt their strength splash me in the face and make me stronger as i paddled my way through and last saturday i soaked up that same power, though the water was calm, as i dove into the lake and took my place among other rush triathlon competitors.  i learned more about myself, and about my place, and about my resilience in the combined moments of these athletic undertakings than i have ever learned from a portage.  and, i learned that if i can complete a triathlon with very little training that i can probably make it through august.

august

i love fall.  i love sweaters.  i love football games and thanksgiving and i love chocolate chip pumpkin cookies and i love hot chocolate with tons of marshmellows.
i love winter.  i love snow. i love crisp cold mornings. i love hiking in the mountains and sliding down the hillside on my snowshoes and i love sledding with my kids.  i love driving thru drifts and running in the dark.
i love springtime. i love new life and new love. and i love muddy trails and rainbows.  i love baby animals and i love sunsets.
i love july.  i love backyard bbq's and swimming pools.. i love sparklers and watermelon.  i love campfires and i love toasted marshmellows.  and i love a cool open water swim and long bike ride.

but i hate august.  i hate the schedules and i hate the rushing around.  i hate the heat when i'm trapped inside.  i hate that august took my dad and my brother and my uncle. and i hate that august accentuates my crazy.  and i hate that it sneaks up on me and it takes me until the 17th to figure out why i'm all out of sorts.

happy birthday to me

i am going to be 36 years old soon.  i panicked for a minute the other day when it occurred to me that 36 rounds up to 40 and 40 is only 10 years away from 50. it made me a little dizzy to think about being 50 but then i remembered that i am a perpetual child and that my life-style should allow me to dictate, somewhat, what 50 feels like and then my thoughts equalized.  however, the fact remains and whether i like it or not, i have a birthday coming up and my age number has to change.  not surprisingly, change causes me to reflect on my life and where i have come from and how to resolve whatever issues i am dealing with presently.  historically, for me, my logic and my heart are most clear when i am training and when i indulge daily on lung-fulls of fresh cool air, and when i bathe myself in the brightness of sunrises, and when i surround myself with the camaraderie of equal friendships.

for several reasons, i have spent much of this last year neglecting my training, avoiding my friends, and dealing with life issues and insecurities that have made it difficult for even the most spectacular of sunrises to seep into my frontal lobe.  except for some trails, a few road miles, and sporadic trips to the climbing gym i have been pretty inactive.

after watching me and the kids boulder at the gym yesterday, jimmy commented about how the kids were constantly calling attention to their routes and the muscles they are building and wanting him to express his excitement about their progress.  we talked about how kids do things, often seeking acceptance and approval.

then, i realized i do this, too.  as a perpetual kid, i still do things seeking acceptance and approval.

weeks ago, i went for a bike ride in the rain.  it had been a long hard day at work and i needed some fresh air.  i decided to ride down this old farm road that i knew had some good rolling hills on it.  i took a risk, choosing this route, knowing that several days of rain would have made it muddy but i thought a little adventure might be good for me.  within a few minutes, the wet dirt began sticking to my tires and filling my spokes and soon after that, i could no longer cover any ground because the mud was so thick.  i ended up carrying my mud-heavy bike for about an hour, struggling with every step as my shoes sunk into the ground.  what started as workout for stress relief quickly became an exercise in perseverance and endurance and instead of coming home relaxed, i came home covered in mud and bruises.  after stripping down to my underwear in the garage, i walked through the house to my shower feeling a little exposed and very humbled.

it occurs to me that sometimes i put energy into things that, for what ever reason, are unable to reciprocate in kind, or at least, the way i hope they would.  sometimes, seeking acceptance from others is a useless endeavor if i am unwilling to accept myself first.  i don't know why, when i have learned so many things over my years, i continue to exhibit child-ish behaviors and seek for approval in places other than my own heart and mind.  curiously, i wonder if i push limits, unintentionally, hoping for an outward expression of acceptance but fully expecting rejection and then, for some reason, i am confused when the latter happens.  stupid, right?

for my birthday, i think i will give myself a gift.  or several...i will give myself gifts of fresh air, daily sunshine, and loving family and friends.  i fully expect that there will be times when i find myself on a difficult route or facing rejection and, hopefully, i will find a way to get through it and recover.  mud washes off and painful bruises fade over time but as these experiences become part of me i hope i can allow personal acceptance to seep in with the sunshine and perpetuate personal change.

"never in your wildest dreams..."

it's odd, sometimes, where the catalyst comes from.  i have been considering the concept of regret lately and the creation of this line of thinking occurred while watching a "feeling bad for your actions and making amends" themed dance on a reality show.  i was stunned by the looks of absolute anguish on both the dancers face and that of the celebrity judge.  when finished, the dancer apologized to his mother for having been a little too rambunctious and causing her to struggle.  In turn, the judge expressed sadness over youthful indiscretions and unkindnesses to others.  from my couch, i could feel her regret.  i watched her tear soaked face, and the way her features froze as her thoughts turned inward while being transported, by the message and power of this dance, back to days when she knew little of who she was and chose an action that would hurt another.

why is it that we make the decisions that we sometimes make?  are we selfish? can we not fully understand the impact of our actions?  do we not know who we are?  do we not care about ourselves or not know our worth?  are we lost? are we inherently flawed?

for the last three days at work we have been removing sections of malignant melanoma from the face of a man that i had as a teacher in high school.  we have talked about how much time has gone by and how much i have changed and he said this to me, "never, in your wildest dreams, did you ever consider that you would be doing this procedure on your teacher this many years later?" honestly, i can recall very little of the subject that he taught me but i do remember that he was always kind to me.  sadly, the depth of the melanoma in the skin indicates a poor prognosis and even removing all of it won't be enough to ensure his long term survival.

we have yet to repair his wound as the pathologist has not declared his margins to be clear and because we removed the last section of skin after regular work hours last night we missed the courier who delivers specimen to the lab.  in order to continue the process for this patient, i brought the speciman home with me and will deliver it this morning and hope that these margins are melonoma free.

having this bio-hazard in our home sparked some conversation with my kids and some of their friends and i firmly stated my wish for them to always be nice to their teachers.  they laughed and immediately thought of the pranks they wanted to play and giggled about certain teachers names, like kids do, and i knew they couldn't fully comprehend what i was trying to convey.  i told them that someday they would grow up and be professionals and be required to perform services on/for the people who taught them knowledge and life skills and their competency could be judged, initially, on how they had behaved. 

we, collectively as human beings, make decisions sometimes based on where we are, emotionally, in that moment and we cannot fully grasp the impact for ourselves and others.  i have seen those looks before, the ones i saw on the dancer and the judge, and i have seen them in the mirror as i have questioned my actions and considered my carelessness.  and though i have an idea where the emotional catalyst for my decision-making spurs from, i am not quite sure how to improve or resolve or find the grounding required to both stop making mistakes and to forgive myself for mistakes of yesterday.

i have, as many of us do, many flaws and imperfections to work on. but, thankfully, i can say i always treated this teacher with respect and i am incredibly grateful that his trust in this process is not compromised by my immaturity as a teenager.

and, i sincerely wish him well.