The Duty to Waste Time in a Meaningful Way

The Duty to Waste Time in a Meaningful Way

I received a jury summons and dutifully responded and waited until yesterday to see if I would indeed be needed.  As it turns out, my group was not.  I considered going to work as usual but immediately dismissed the thought because my clients were already scheduled to be in the capable hands of my coworkers and I knew my P.I.C. (partner in crime) would be disappointed in me if I didn't take the opportunity to kick back today and relax.  It's not even that I think the place would come crashing down without me.  I might smile a little as I think about the little ways they would miss me because I'm pretty sure they're not entirely aware of the things I do.  I confess that I derive a sense of satisfaction from being the glue that keeps things together and the go-to girl.  But I can't say megalomaniac is among the list of my faults.   

As soon as I made the decision to not go in I started worrying and obsessing about what to do instead.  This is a golden opportunity that doesn't present itself often, in fact almost never.  Worrying about what I might do is a bit of an understatement.  I lost sleep last night.  I had nightmares.  Let's pause for a minute for a word from ....

"Maureen, you're a nut!"  

Thanks, Capt. O! All of this stuff makes perfect sense in my head until I say them out loud.  I'm so duty driven and work oriented that I'm at a loss when I'm not working on a project or towards a goal.  I wanted to be able to report that at the end of the day, my time was well spent.  I started the day by sleeping in.  I had a great breakfast, read the paper and had that second cup of coffee I'm always thinking about as I dash out the door every day.  I spent a lot of the day surfing around the internet pursuing different interests.  One quest was the search for a non work related book to take with me on my ski trip.  I wanted so much for it to be "meaningful and worth the time if it wasn't going to be work related" that I ended up closing down Barnes & Noble last night in search of the perfect tome.  I left empty handed..... Shut up, Capt. Obvious!  I know it!

Granted, it took me the better part of the day, but I finally felt the intense pressure I was putting on myself regarding leisure time.  

lei·sure  

/ˈlēZHər/

Noun Free time. Use of free time for enjoyment.

Synonyms spare time - leisure time - ease

I don't think I get enough of the stuff!  It was then that I grabbed a hunk of cookie dough and drew a bubble bath.  That my friend, is the meaning of leisure time!  My resolution is to carve out more of the stuff for myself so next time it won't be such a monumental happening that I wind up stressing about unwinding!  I'm going to go make a list of leisure activities so I'll be prepared......

I said, Shut up!, Captain Obvious and stop shaking your head at me!  

Dammit! I'm a trainer not a doctor!

I Love My Job!

I can honestly say that I would be at work the next morning after having hit the lottery.  No fooling around.  I help people.  Our BodyBasics ( http://bodybasics.biz/ ) logo has a tag line "Move Better, Feel Better, Live Better.  It sounds tidy but it's really huge when I think about it.  

One of my favorite clients came to me 4-6 months ago and gave me the scare of my career.  I thought I'd quite possibly broken her after our first session only I couldn't imagine how. We did some very minimal stuff.  I was just laying the groundwork to getting her moving.  She'd been suffering from daily headaches and had shoulders and a neck that would have stifled a jackhammer.  We were basically working on proper posture, honestly, nothing that I would have suspected that could have even made her the slightest bit sore.  However,when she returned she'd said she'd been in agony and I couldn't even brush by her skin without it hurting her.  I'm not really sure why she had such  a dramatic reaction and it's never happened again but by the end of  even that session she walked out feeling better.  

She has continued to grow stronger and less stiff.  The headaches are gone and she no longer needs to see a neuromuscular therapist once or twice a week.  She's put in the hard work but I helped get her there. She's doing things now that she never would have attempted and that's what brought her in today completely wracked with pain.  It was her shoulder again and she gotten that way by climbing on a ladder and hefting big plastic containers onto a high shelf.  Score!  I say that because she felt strong enough to even attempt such a job.  Even more impressive when you know that she's 4 foot 11.  She has a husband who is over 6 feet tall but she was sure she could do this herself.  Stuff happens and her ergonomics were all off but I'm still counting this as a win.  

The job satisfaction comes in where she comes to ME and says,"you're the best "fixer" I know you'll get me out of this."  I panicked.  I felt like yelling, "Dammit! M! I'm a trainer not a doctor!"  No pressure.  When I gathered my wits, I fell back on basic anatomy, ferreted out the problem, used a few tricks in my toolbox that I've acquired over the years and actually did fix her.  All  the while, an intern and the new hire were looking on adding to my by now, massive ego.  I'm going to bask in the ego trip a while and savor the feeling of actually helping somebody.  I know that it will be short lived and I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts.  

Self Awareness

Self awareness, not my strong suit.  

The day I got back from the "victory summit" in Phoenix I thought I must have eaten something that didn't agree with me.  I'll spare you the details.  Few people return the favor, seeing nothing wrong with sharing the most intimate details of their bowel habits.  I think that's gross and possibly puts them in a position of being even less self aware than I but I'm already on a tangent....

After about 5 days of eating nothing but crackers, toast and rice and I thought to myself, gee, I haven't felt this bad since my husband was depressed and out of a job, and we with two very small children and me with no marketable skills whatsoever, slowly watching our ship sink.  Also at the same time, my little sister was preparing for a shot-gun wedding -her second marriage and my parents were none too pleased.   I found myself on the business end of some sort of medical scanner convinced I was dying.  When nothing was found medically wrong it was suggested it was a case of IBS.  I was incredulous that my body could betray me and not buy into it when I told everyone I just knew that everything would work out.  Intellectually I thought and believed that to be true.  My body on the other hand wasn't having any of it.

It didn't occur to me just how deeply that conference bothered me.  I thought I put the issue to bed with my cathartic blog entry.  I'm not even sure I can put my finger on what exactly pushed me over the edge.  The great thing that I actually love about myself is once I realized I had been pushed that far the symptoms cleared.

I handle the negative pretty glibly and dismiss it quickly in the hope that it won't take root and wield any real power over me.  I keep myself pretty busy proving that I'm not that affected and I'm still the same tough, sarcastic and ornery girl I've always been.  I celebrate privately inside my head when people say I've got a pretty positive attitude and they forget anything is wrong with me.  It's when that facade is chipped away or not strong enough to keep everything out or when people simply see right through it that I almost short circuit.  One of my readers privately messaged me after she read this blog:

 Dearest Maureen,

Your blog is just like you: feisty, vulnerable, brave, funny, outrageous. But through all of your blogs I sense pain, the intense pain and bitterness of being dealt such a lousy hand at such a young age. I can only say the pain resonates through my body as you talk about it. It becomes real and formidable.

I wouldn't run from it, Maureen. Probably the funniest entry is your day in Phoenix with all these phony-cheery people yucking it up with joyful yoga. How absurd do people think Parkinson's sufferers are? Your outrage was appropriate and heartfelt, you were furious at being condescended to like that. I say, "You go, girl! Tell it like it is."

I loved the entry on Rob, and Amelia, and the motorcycle, and on your boss delivering you a lecture. But I don't think you should apologize for your feelings about having this disease. The one thing we are all counting on from you now is to forge a new life out of what you have left, to give us some insight into your feelings as the disease progresses, and to emerge triumphant in some way. Like Stephen Hawking or Michael J. Fox, you will prevail, not just endure. Because you are a strong and resilient person, and you are going to in some way leave your mark.

So keep writing, and give us all the pain you feel. We can handle it, and will love you all the more if that is possible. You are very special.

Love and admiration,

xxxx

I was so touched and so moved and so surprised that she had my number.  She understood and articulated for me better than I ever could for myself.  The coup de grace was in the last bit where she throws in some unconditional love and encouraged me to just be real.  I wept.  I re-read and and I rudely didn't reply.  I'm ashamed to say that she worried she had offended me.  My carefully crafted exterior wasn't enough.  She had penetrated it easily and I recoiled like a petulant child.  I'm not sure how to be or if I even  want to be real.  Sure, I'm honest but being real and sharing vulnerability?  Typing this and having my say, editing my thoughts and howling into cyberspace is a practice run I suppose.  I'm tightly wound and bound with many layers of duct tape.  If the corners are picked at and peeled back I'm afraid of what might come spilling out and afraid that the pieces wouldn't ever fit neatly back together.  I would have to abandon my modus operandi of "stuff it and move on".  Honestly, that's the way I've  lived my life.  It's allowed  me to sidestep grief and shuffle by most of life's entanglements.  There are cracks forming in my foundation and maybe it was only a matter of time that I could get by like that.  Maybe this is what my Dad is talking about when he describes hitting the wall?  

Work and life have been pretty busy lately.  I haven't had time to fully sort through and make complete sense of all this yet but it bubbles up to the surface even still.  I'm usually thankful for the distractions of being busy.  This time, I'm going to go out on a limb and actually try to resolve it rather than stuff it.