Ways of Being

I had an interesting conversation with a friend this weekend. We talked about the difference between having goals to work toward, and working on new ways of being in the world. She had a pretty convincing argument, so I thought I'd share.

We often talk about our latest goals, or the goal we are focusing on in the moment. Somehow, this places not only our efforts but also our accomplishments outside of ourselves. If you want to earn top ratings in your company this quarter-- whatever your company rates-- that's a goal.

It's you working on something totally separate from your SELF, and with both a goal and a reward that are pretty impersonal. They might give you a year-end bonus that you can spend on a trip to Maui or something... but they don't really change who you are or how hard you'll have to work next quarter if you want the same results. Losing weight, getting up earlier-- these feel like similar goals. Things you can measure by looking at the scale or the clock or the nightly news. Looking outside yourself for both expectation and outcome.

Ways of being are harder to measure, harder to change-- and yet when we do improve our way of being, every aspect of our life gets a little bit easier, clearer, more functional. Several years ago, I wanted to change my way of being-- I wanted to be healthy. And I really examined what that meant for me. How I would be in the world, and what about my lifestyle or my thought process or my daily activities needed to change in order for me to live in a way that feels healthy to me. And to be honest, I'm still working on it.

I wanted to be pain-free in my body most days. I wanted to be able to lift moving boxes and heavy bags of kitty litter without hurting myself. I wanted to feel that I had a chance of defending myself from harm if I were ever attacked in a dark parking lot at night.

I wanted to feel connected to the Earth. I wanted to be connected to my own feelings and intuition so that I could USE them to keep myself healthy, safe, sane. I wanted to respect myself enough to pay attention to my needs, and work on meeting them. I wanted to get rid of my adult acne, and keep up with my friends on long hikes in the hills without complaint. These, to me, were the measuring sticks of my improved way of being. If I could do these things, I'd be living the life I want to live-- the way I want to be in the world.

So I took time to examine my lifestyle, and look for things I could do with very little money and no health insurance-- to improve my way of being healthy in the world. I started meditating. I read about the root chakra that is our connection to our physical body, to the earth, and to our internalized messages of security and sturdiness. I bought essential oil of clove to help me meditate on my root chakra and improve my sense of groundedness, my sense of security, my awareness of my SELF and my physical needs.

I started walking a couple of times a week, looking at trees and birds and clouds when I walked. And I tried to change my sleeping habits so that I got a fairly reliable seven hours of sleep a night. Then eight. Then nine. I really feel rested if I get nine hours of sleep a night. I don't always manage it. And I know most people don't need that much. But I do. And I'm learning to respect my body's needs and my self enough to acknowledge what I need in order to be healthy. I also realized I had formed an unhealthy dependency on pain killers and sleeping pills to manage my pain from an old car accident.

Usually, we do need those pills for a little while, but at some point, we either need to heal the pain, or find non-chemical forms of pain-management and sleep-management. Some folks do legitimately need medicine, and if you need it? TAKE IT. But so many more of us take meds we don't need because it is easier than dealing with the problem that the meds help us ignore. I decided to consult a doctor on the healthiest way to reduce my dependence on my particular prescription medicines. I knew it would be dangerous to stop cold-turkey. Then, I cut my dose by 1/3 on a Friday, so I'd have the weekend to cope. The next Friday, I cut the daily dose in half. And because I was so cranky by then, I told a few people what I was doing so they wouldn't take my attitude personally.

I stayed at that level of dosage for almost a month. This wasn't about meeting a goal. This was about finding ways to be healthy. So I didn't have a set timeline. Instead, I waited until I wasn't so scared by the side effects I had with reducing my dosage. I picked a time when I knew I didn't have to do any driving or anything important for four or five days in a row. And I had some non-chemical pain-management options ready to use.

I started on those new things the first day. I stopped taking pills the second day, with an over-the-counter pain med just to ease myself into it a little more. By the third day, I was using pain management techniques, an no pills. By the fifth day, I felt better than I had in years.

I'm still working on the acne. Managing it requires overcoming my addiction to sugar-foods. I like chocolate and ice cream and and and and too much to let go easily or quickly. But I'm also proud of the progress I've made in listening to my body's needs, and maintaining some sort of regular exercise. And when I exercise, I listen to my body so I don't over-do or re-injure myself. If I start to feel tired, I take iron pills and vitamin C and garlic. I try to manage my body temperature, and give my body extra sleep and extra water to help fight off any virus germs. I'm not sick nearly as often as I used to be. And I feel more alive. More connected to the Earth and to myself. I even keep up with my friends when we hike.

I guess improving my health wasn't so much a goal as a way of being in the world. It wasn't about crazy diets or binge exercising. It wasn't about denying myself or punishing myself. It was about getting to know myself better, and then making informed decisions. It was about learning to accept what my body needs to be healthy-- and not what I think it should need, should look like, should do for me. It was about learning to be compassionate-- at least about my health-- with my SELF. And it's one of the hardest lessons for a person to learn. To be good to themselves, without punishment, judgment, or unhappy indulgence.

Be compassionate with your body. Honor your feelings. They are trying to tell you something important about your well-being in the world. Find those connection points between you, and the universe at large. They do exist. Isolation is only ever self-imposed. The grass really is greener on the other side.

The Vet let me take my kitty home last night, with some pain medicine and a vague hope that maybe she'd eat something once she wasn't in pain anymore.

So I was hopeful. Until the Vet called this morning. The final test came back, and it turns out her white blood cell count is horribly low. So We made an appointment to take her back into the doctor's for another test. This one was to see if she had either feline leukemia or kitty AIDS. Those being the most likely reasons for a low white blood cell count, apparently.

Apparently, she was also much calmer about getting her blood drawn this time around. And it only took ten minutes to get the test results back. She is evil illness-free, as far as we can tell. Luckily, it is NEITHER feline leukemia NOR kitty HIV. Unluckily, we still don't know what it IS. I have strict instructions from my Vet (who also owns a tortie) to call her with updates.

And LUCKILY, I have a very wonderful update to report. As soon as we got home, she got out of the cat carrier, wandered over to the wet food that has been sitting hopefully in my room for the past few hours, and licked it a few times before wandering back to her blanket in front of the space heater. FOOD!!! She ate a bite of FOOD!!! That's more than she's eaten of her own volition in three days! WAHHOOOO!!!!

And I have finally got some hope back that she'll recover from this insane trip of hers.
Thanks for all your good thoughts, everyone. We both needed them for a while. Maybe we still do. But at the moment, Abbigale is curled up on my bed in the sun pretending that her little fore-arm isn't shaved and listening carefully, just in case I venture over to the pain medicine again. Because, well, she REALLY LIKES that pain medicine.

So, basically, the only thing we know for sure is that she had some really painful gas, stopped eating, got really dehydrated, and is now hooked on pain killers. Not necessarily in that order. Life can be such a trip. ...sigh.

Loving Abbigale

My cat is in the Animal Hospital today. They're trying to figure out why she stopped eating and drinking two days ago, why her chest hurts, why she has a build-up of gas, why she's been puking and other grossness for the last 24 hours, at both ends. And how to make it all better.

I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to cope. She is a fixture in my life. She is one of my best friends, and my life-companion. She is only ten years old. And if she needs surgery to remove an obstruction in her bowels, I'm not sure I can pay for it.

I'm trying to figure out how to make my situation go away. How to have a job, or another credit card, so that I could have a hope of paying for this. I'm trying to figure out how I got so desperate financially that I would even consider NOT getting this $800-$2000 surgery for my Abbigale. I'm looking into donations from animal-rescue organizations. I'm looking into my credit card totals to see how bad they really are. I'm looking into payment plans. My vet is looking into some possible other cause for her illness.

I'm trying to cope with my sudden reality that I've already spent $600 on her medical care today, and that I really don't want to wake up without her tomorrow... and that it costs less to put my best friend to sleep than to heal her... but even that would be expensive. I'm really trying to cope with reality, but failing.

Because the reality is that she is my one ability to keep coping with my life. She gives me a reason to get up (even if it's a half-hour earlier than I wanted to get up), and she helps me sleep at night. She loves me unconditionally, and forgives me for being selfish and stupid from time to time. Nobody else does that. How can I weigh her life against something as stupid as two or three months' worth of rent payments.

I have some wonderful wonderful human friends-- and some of them have really been there for me when I've been in tight spots at various times. But believe me-- I've spent more time being content because SHE was content to be with me than I have just happy on my own account. So here it is.

The last few shreds of hope I have are that maybe the problem is something that can actually be fixed without surgery... or that I won the lottery last week and just don't know it yet. Because as much as I want the opportunity to earn my way-- I'm going to feel like shit if I get a good-paying day job within a few days or weeks of putting her to sleep for lack of funds.

I know that my desires are purely selfish here-- the desire to keep her alive, and the desire not to go into debt to do so. And I've realized, that as much as it's going to hurt-- whatever the outcome-- what I really want is for her to know I love her, and for her not to suffer. Whatever that means, I think I can make my peace with it. Eventually. After the heart-hurt eases a bit, and the empty spot starts to heal. I know I'm never going to fill her place in my heart.

Today, I'm just sitting around waiting for news, researching dead-end financial options and grant moneys for emergency pet care, and crying. At least, after I made the vet appointment last night, she and I had the whole night to lay together and cuddle on the bed. And even though she had to get off the bed to vomit and have diareah about five or six times, she always made her way back up to where she could sleep on my arm, curled into my side.

God, Goddess, please let her live.