exceedingly grateful

Yet again, my big post today is about the kidney thing. I mentioned, quickly, that there are glimmers of creativity slowly creeping back.

They are.

I'm feeling the flow revving up.

IT FEELS SO DAMN GOOD!

For more that I'm grateful about, please read on:

kidney adventures

advice from unlikely places

These days folks - so much is about, because of, inspired by my kidney story. And so, I'm love for you to read more:

the adventures of my kidney

when the past meets the present

(this post is up on my kidney blog but it's about far more than that experience so I thought a double post was worthwhile)

Yesterday I spent time talking to the 3 psychiatrists at the nephrologist's office about my eating disorder. I'd say we spent 8-10 minutes out of 45 on the topic. I gave them a brief timeline, an overview, insights on why I thought I developed anorexia, treatment I received, and  how I recovered to this point. 

Cramming more than a decade of pain, self-flagellation, disgust and frustration into mini-monologues was close to impossible. 

The hardest part though, and the summary I didn't pull off so well was how I got better. 

I am better. So much better. Better to the point that when the head inquisitor observed that I'm no longer thin and how did I handle that, I handled it. 

I had a fat moment or two this morning but was able to let it quickly go and enjoy my decaf mocha with whipped cream. 

I now know my body is my home. It's my responsibility to take care of it, respect it, cherish it, not punish it. I accept who and where I am (for the most part). It is what is. 

But how did I get here? To this reasonably healthy, sane place?

If I had hours to talk I don't know that's a question I have an answer to. 

Being a mother made me let go of so much. The illusion of control. The concept that my issues were all important and should take precedent over everything else. Anorexia is quite the selfish, egotistical disease. 

Going to art school and finding my voice after too many years of not having one. 

There's yoga. Finding space in my mind and learning I don't always have to spin out of control. Not to mention being stronger than I've ever been. Who would ever have thought that neurotic me would ever be able to float into a headstand in the middle of a room. 

Getting older. I'm finding age brings wisdom and acceptance. There are downsides but with this too, I'm learning to accept what is. 

But I think the biggest thing is that I'm grateful. Grateful I'm here. Grateful for my family, for where we live, for the life we've created. For the opportunities I've had and the ones I made happen. For the many amazing people in my life. For my delicious puppy. 

Grateful that I have a sense of humor that keeps me sane in the insanity. 

Grateful that I can give. 

Giving my kidney is a way to pay forward all I've been blessed with in my life. A thank you to the universe. A tip of the hat to the forces that be. 

overcoming Jewish superstitions

you can read about it on my kidney blog (where I'm trying to let go of old habits):

adventures of my kidney

rejecting rejection

As I was just walking to yoga, on this icy, wet, slush-filled morning, I was thinking about what to write about. I was thinking about how easy it is to say you're going to let go of what you know, how you (I'm talking me here) can understand, conceptualize, "get" it, but the reality of letting go is just about impossible. While contemplating this I was also pondering the negative spaces that take over me. How lost I can get in being angry, feeling slighted, ignored, hurt - whether it was intentional or not. I trend sensitive for those here who haven't noticed. I can spin things that happened or might possibly happen over and over. And over. As if there's a replay button in my brain that can select out my most painful moments and put them on high rotation.

I'm really good at making myself feel really bad.

As I wandered the aisles of the Container Store, gazing at tiny boxes and packs of tissue paper this deep, way deep, so deep realization hit me.

Perceived rejection has to be one of my first feelings.

Whoa. Perceived rejection.

Growing up healthy in a house with a very ill sibling meant I got less attention. Not maliciously. Not with awareness. But I was ok and he wasn't. Reasonable, rational, logical. But not really when you're less than three.

From that, from there I think I internalized not being important enough and became comfortable with, accepting of people treating me with a certain sense of disregard.

I seek out those relationships.

To be put at the bottom of someone's list of priorities is where I know I'm supposed to be.

SHIT.

Damn.

Fuck.

This is a huge one for me.

Awareness is the first step.

Maybe this slight shift will help me to fight those ingrained tendencies and I can start letting go of something I never even thought of as a thing.

It is what is.

But I want it to be what was.

letting go of what you know

Lately, this blog and my kidney adventures definitely mix and mingle.

Today was one of those days, should you care to pop over and read:

kidney adventures

surviving an anxiety attack

I just survived an anxiety attack, although, the way I'm feeling it could start back up at any moment. My hands are still shaking. There's a strange heat, tingling in my head. My jaw is clenched tight. My stomach is knotted.

Yup, it's still here. But I'm still not giving in.

It started in the supermarket. Standing on line with Jack I got dizzy for no reason. Scared. Panicky. I made it home, barely holding it together. And then, as I stood in the kitchen, the unease started. The knowing that I wouldn't be ok, that I was about to lose it, that I would fall apart at any moment.

I didn't.

But I thought I would.

I grabbed ice cubes out of the freezer and held them so tightly I could hear them cracking. That didn't stop anything (I'd heard that holding ice cubes would stop a panic attack). I held them up to my checks until it felt they were numb. That helped slightly.

I remembered what the transplant social worker had said the other day—that I had to look at my history and know that I always survive in the end. That, and that anxiety was a learned response from my earliest years.

I don't want to react to stress with anxiety attacks anymore. I hate this.

HATE this.

So much unknown, so much stress, so many things I've never dealt with are in my near future and I want to find a healthier way of dealing than this.

I will not fall apart. I'm stronger than this. I have to find a way to know that at my very center and not fall back into this dark place.

Or, maybe I've been having a hot flash.

All I can say is oy.