Since I don't believe in scales I'm not sure how many pounds I added in just one week, but I wouldn't be surprised to find it was more than two. I can say that I fended off about 3 panic attacks, a war I haven't had to wage for some time. I didn't lose sleep, I was probably too exhausted from fighting off panic attacks and semi-comatose from the sugar intake that I wasn't giving myself enough insulin to cover, because, oh yeah, I am anxious about treating myself aggressively with insulin (not a good thing to be anxious about as a diabetic!)That first week trying to grasp the information given to me and the realization that so much more information was needed was a difficult one. It was then that I decided I needed an outlet. Our family had joined the local YMCA at the start of the year in efforts to expose our boys to the pool. I enjoy the pool so I would alternate weeks taking one boy at a time. It had been a month since I'd been to the Y and I had never gone solo so I decided to make it a priority to go to the YMCA after one of my busiest days of the week.
I had packed a bag so that I would have no excuse to go. After a work day that had started at 8am and ended at 8pm I just sat staring for a moment at the bag of clothes. I had very nearly talked myself out of even so much as opening it but before I could I jumped up and changed as quickly as I could with a sense of near desperation. I got in my car and drove straight to the gym, two or three more blocks and I could be at my front door, but I made the turn into the parking lot and went into the building.
I chose a recumbent bike to work out which is the best option for my poor range of motion in my left knee. Even at that my foot slipped from the pedal several times as I got started and sought the perfect height of the seat, tension in the pedals and pedaling speed. Finally, after some time I started a work out on the machine and began. I took several deep breaths to cleanse myself of the day, the weight of worry on my shoulders and the in attempt to gain focus. In other words I was utilizing one of the basic coping skills I teach and practice with my clients who deal with anxiety.
After my cleansing breaths I found that the Olympics were on the television in front of me and that gained my interest almost immediately. So I settled in to watch the snowboard action on the screen. In doing so I realized I was having a hard time breathing and my legs felt like lead. 'How long have I been at this anyway?' I wondered. My friends, the timer on the bike said 0:01:48. I'm not kidding.
To my credit I was able to tune out the crying thighs and panting breath to watch some quality athletics and to bank a full 20 minutes on the exercise bike.
In my 20 minutes on the bike and in the midst of physical effort and Olympic thrills I was able to reflect on all that had been happening in my life in the last week. Thinking of my mothers recent diagnosis led me to think about my own diagnosis almost 23 years ago. I had been an athlete in high school, running track, playing soccer and cheerleading for basketball season. I took pride in working hard, pushing myself physically past any level I thought I was capable of. When I was diagnosed with bone cancer in my left femur the summer before my Senior year and was told I could lose my leg because of it, I was devastated. It rocked my world on so many levels. But as I sat on the recumbent bike this particular day, the only exercise machine in the place that could accommodate my handicap, I realized that I've lost some of the drive and determination I had as a young girl. The girl who would run until her sides hurt and then run some more. The girl who would work and work to jump higher and become more flexible. The one who played coed league soccer and stood up to very tall and strong young men just because she believed she could.
"I wish I could run." That's what I say now. "I wish I could bend my knee at least 90 degrees so I could ride a bike or kneel."
"I wish I were more flexible so I could do yoga."
"If I could run I would do it all the time. I would run in races and be athletic."
As these thoughts, my mantras of the last few years, played through my mind there in the middle of the YMCA I had an epiphany. A thought slapped me in the face and I probably literally jumped.
"You are able to walk, why not do that all the time?"
"You are able to ride THIS bike, you should get better at this. Go longer, faster, harder."
And so it was that my POV, point of view, shifted. In my quest for a simpler, happier, healthier life I realized at that moment that I need to focus on what I am doing and can do instead of wasting each moment bemoaning those things I am unable to do, things out of my reach.
I need to focus on what I am doing and what I can do.
That includes continuing to be the devoted and loving daughter over 6 hours away from her parents at such a difficult time with 4 kids and 2 part time jobs that keep her from running home at a moments notice. I'll be the best daughter, mother, worker, wife and friend that I can be from right where I am.
I know that it's so practical and so plain-as-the-nose-on-your-face ordinary but that thought in that moment I believe changed me. So I wanted to share it with you. It has taken some of the proverbial weight off to be honest. I want to focus on what I am doing and what I am realistically able to do as I urge myself to be stronger, healthier and more focused. It is a simple and beautifully freeing truth that there is no more expected of me than that. Welcome to my new POV. Breathe the fresh air!
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