SMILE THE WHILE – my postcard from the edge

Posted on October 7, 2014 by hafong

I am ready, sitting here with my morning Chai. I’m still wearing my bed head. It brought me luck yesterday. We, the Chinese, are very superstitious. The Mad Hatter in me has helped me to rant and chatter – to let loose.

Today, I am going to be brave. I am going into that one-inch picture frame that Anne Lamott speaks of. I am going to look at my life when I was a nurse.

Yesterday I came upon a blog about the death of Sophie Yin, a 48 year old veterinarian who died of a suicide. Was the death a result of compassion fatigue? That is the question. More importantly, what is compassion fatigue? Here’s what wikipedia says:

Compassion fatigue, also known as secondary traumatic stress (STS), is a condition characterized by a gradual lessening of compassion over time. It is common among individuals that work directly with trauma victims such as nurses, psychologists, and first responders. It was first diagnosed in nurses in the 1950s. Sufferers can exhibit several symptoms including hopelessness, a decrease in experiences of pleasure, constant stress and anxiety, sleeplessness or nightmares, and a pervasive negative attitude. This can have detrimental effects on individuals, both professionally and personally, including a decrease in productivity, the inability to focus, and the development of new feelings of incompetency and self-doubt.^[1

I have already recognized and acknowledged that I ~~might~~ am a sufferer. I am sure that I am not the only one among our staff. As I look at the long list of symptoms in individuals and organizations on the Compassion Fatigue Awareness Project, I’m nodding my head and going uh huh, uh huh.

It was a bit of a surprise to me that I didn’t ‘fall apart’ till after I had retired. I had no time while I was still working. The show had to go on. The tread mill ground on ever so steadily. I HAD to perform, however broken I was. There was always tape to bind me up. See! Smile the while….

I was prepared for this business of ‘retirement’, or so I thought. I knew there would be an adjustment period. But after a few weeks, a month, I would be basking in the land of the happily ‘retired’.

How naive I was! The ‘breakdowns’ that I never had time for found time and me. Anxiety claimed me. Life became HARD. And I didn’t know how to explain it – to anyone, including myself. There was always that STRESS theory. Who wouldn’t be stressed after being immersed in saving lives and slinging bedpans for over 30 years? 30 years of STAT, Code Blues, ringing call lights, patient abuse, doctor abuse, managerial abuse, 12 hour shifts, night shifts, day shifts…..Or so it seemed.

Am I ranting? So sorry!

I had not understood stress at all. I had been asleep behind the wheel all those years. My post retirement meltdown was probably the best thing that happened to me. I finally understood. It stopped me cold. I had no more emergencies nor Code Blues to run to. No one to rescue but myself. I had to get out of the fire.

The stress had been built up over the years of caring. I had lost sight of myself, always looking outward at others’ needs. I felt others’ pain but numbed my own, as if I was not worthy of my own concern. It was not good. I prided myself on how much I can handle, how little sleep I needed. How foolish I was!

~~~

I’m losing my concentration. My right brain is clamouring at me. I feel my dendrites rising on end. Perhaps it’s best I close off. Tomorrow is another day. With a fresh left brain I might be able to talk about my year of recovery. Till then – smile the while, but care for yourself.

SOME INSTRUCTIONS ON HOW NOT TO LIVE & WRITE LIKE A MAD HATTER

Posted on October 6, 2014 by hafong

I feel this morning’s darkness in me. I stretch to receive all that is good out there. I make my cup of Chai. Do you know that today is October 6 – 10/6? It is Mad Hatter Day. To celebrate I leave my morning bed head alone. I am such a lucky girl. I have at least 3 cowlicks. My head of hair looks quite like the mad guy’s hat every morning. I will spare you a picture.

Inhaling and exhaling a few times has ushered in a breath of joie de vivre. The darkness is gone. I’m myself again. Rituals and habits of quigong and a rich cup of Chai gets me moving. I’ve discovered through trial and error, I work best in 15 minute stretches.

It makes a lot of sense for me. I am impatient and have a short attention span and fuse. I interrupt people a lot. Details drive me mad. I live life in a whoosh, what is also known as The Big Gulp. Remember those? I don’t think we’ve recovered from that. We are still in the BIG of things, the more of stuff, the faster the better all the time. If I click enter and nothing happens, I get pissed off PDQ. I get rude.

When I lived like that, there was no savouring, no discerning of nuances. Everything struck me with full force – right smack in the face. I reacted and bounced off walls. Then it was over. I scratched my head, wondering what the hell had happened. It was too late. I had done myself harm.

I’m trying to do different now. I’m stretching and exercising my left brain. Calmness and orderliness would be a good change of pace. I don’t want to live by emotions alone. What Lola wants, Lola gets. That’s how the song goes, right? I’m having some success. Let me see if I can lay it out for you.

It’s not the sort of thing that I’m good at. I’m not skilled at articulating a process. I’m not good at teaching or giving instructions. I’ve never mentored nor asked to mentor a student or a novice nurse in my 30 plus years as a nurse. It’s not that I’m not a team player. It’s that I’ve never been asked.

Is my nose a little disjointed over the fact? No, but it is a little sore. I have the belief that I’m lacking. I’m not good enough. There’s a bit of shame, too in not being an elder. Let me not wait any longer for someone to ask tell me to do something. Let me do it, practice a weakness/a want – working in 15 minutes or as Anne Lamott says in her book BIRD BY BIRD, writing down as much as she can see through a one-inch picture frame.

I’m finding life and writing much easier and palatable in small bites. I put my focus in that 15 minute/one-inch frame. There is no room or time for me to get irritated and frustrated. My energy is contained and directed. I am safe, creating in my sacred space. I let go of all else for that time. There’s time enough after for all else.

I keep the promises to myself, staying committed to the 15 minutes, writing at least 500 words/day. If things are flowing the minutes stretch a bit, of course. Practice does make better. Thoughts, ideas, or pictures that come in smoky vapours are jotted down because I know what happens if I trust that to my memory.

A caught word, a phrase, a sentence or two work magic for me. They have prompted me to write a couple of hundred words upon rising the next morning. When I’m stuck, I get up and do something else. There’s no sense in wasting time pushing myself and getting frustrated. I use those frustration times to stretch, do a load of laundry, tidy up my desk… Little things add up to a lot of housework done, leaving me more free time and feeling mellow.

This morning after I had written 300 some words, I had breakfast. Then I put the makings of chicken soup – carving the carcass, washing and chopping up vegetables – on the stove to simmer while Sheba and I went for our walk.

We’re back and I am putting the finishing touches on my instructions. Not great, but I’m trying and practicing on thinking logically. I hope there’s sense and order in the directions.

The chicken soup is ready. Do you find this helpful in any way?

LIFE IN ALL DIRECTIONS

Posted on October 5, 2014 by hafong

I like to start the morning with a cup of Tetley’s Chai, strong and sweet. Its spiciness warms and stimulates me from the inside out. One sip and I’m ready at the keyboard.

I am not good at directions. Anyone who knows me knows that. My mother says I got that from my father. Funny how all my ‘bad’ traits came from that direction. Never mind! It’s a common dance between mothers and fathers. If the children are wise, they would stay out of their way and not get their toes stepped on.

Back to directions. I don’t have any. I get lost a lot, especially in a new place. My friends know that if I’m late meeting them, I’m probably lost. But I am learning – after all these years – to get written directions before hand. I go to google map and print it out. Life can be that simple if you stay calm and use your brain.

My brain IS my problem. I am more right than left brain. I am not at all analytical and logical. I think with my feelings. I head out in the approximate direction I thought the address is, thinking I would get there somehow. No wonder it takes me hours (I’m embarrassed to say) to find a place. How stupid of me!

I have learned my lesson though. Even if I have a handicap, there are tools – maps, GPS, google, etc. I could slow down, think it out and not get overwhelmed before rushing off. That is my problem, you see. My brain gets schmucked with the WHOLE picture, with whatever I’m dealing with at the time. And I’m like a deer in headlights. I don’t know what to do. I freeze, then I run off in all directions.

You’ll be relieved and happy to know that I was not like that as a nurse. On the contrary, I was the opposite. In emergencies, something would click inside me. Things slow down and I see with much more clarity. Sometimes I see in black and white, like a Kodak moment.

I worried that others would think I was not doing my best. I felt slower but with more purpose. It was a relief to be told by ones that mattered that I was calm and competent. You would be safe in my hands. Flapping only created more chaos, slowing things.

I am changing directions now, taking time, trying to be more analytical and not to rush pell mell, like a bat out of hell. I can be more focused with purpose. I don’t have to wait for an emergency. I don’t have to save someone else’s life. I will do it to save mine.

Funny what happens when you live life in 15-minute segments and do the best you can. I can map out where I want to go AND get there – most of the time. There are no absolutes. I am sure I will still get lost a time or two. But now I have better tools to find my way.

BEWITCHED AND BEDEVILLED

Posted on October 4, 2014 by hafong

Mmmm! So delicious, the first sip of sweet and spicy Chai. The morning is grey and wet – misty rain falling down. The forecast calls for ice pellets later on.

Nice I had sunny yesterday to reflect on. I haven’t felt so well, so myself in a long time. It was as if I had been possessed by forces far greater than I can fight off. I was bewitched and bedevilled. Go ahead. You can laugh and roll your eyes. I felt what I felt.

Yesterday, I felt free, the weight lifted off me. I smiled and grinned like a Cheshire Cat, basking in sunshine. I felt the meanness leaving my bodily. I tasted the nastiness as it made its exit. I bade it a cheerful farewell. And don’t you come back no more, no more, I sang.

I know that is wishful thinking. I know it will visit again. Next time I will be stronger. It will not gain an easy entry.

I should not speak so hastily. Certainly it is not wise to read about politics and the mayoral campaign in Toronto. I’m feeling incensed and anger is bubbling up my throat. How can I not, watching candidate, Olivia Chow questioned about her suitability because of immigrant background? Judge for yourself if it doesn’t smack of prejudice of skin colour. At another rally she is told to go back to China.

I’m feeling Olivia’s anger. I’m feeling our sisterhood. I better be careful. The witch and devil are already at my door with broom and pitch fork. Hate and anger are not constructive. They lead to more of the same. They eat at your soul. I better move on. Olivia, I am sure, is made of sterner stuff. She has been in this game for some time.

THE WHY’S (WISE) ON WRITING

Posted on October 3, 2014 by hafong

It’s a cool -4 degrees Celsius this morning. I feel amazingly good. I don’t question it. I accept it as my good fortune. The sun IS shining brightly. Hallelujah! I sip my Chai, oh so strong and sweet. Mmmmm. Feeling blessed as I sip and tap.

Writing for me is like meditating, the letting go and releasing. This morning it is a little difficult as my furry neighbour next door and Sheba are having a noisy and excited good morning exchange. Bow wow! What do you do? They are dogs behaving like dogs.

Peace is restored – for a little while. Can I get back to the zen of the moment? That is the trick of life, you know – to return to your purpose again and again, no matter the distractions or how many times you have strayed off the path. I find my way to the place I have left. I try not to back track to the beginning. Otherwise, I cannot get pass GO. I will be stuck forever at the starting gate.

I’m spending a little time on why I write. Here I go again! I’m asking the why of things. Can’t leave that alone, can I? The thing that comes to mind is that it gives me pleasure. It is such a sensual thing, this tap, tapping on the keyboard. I feel each letter and hear each click. It’s rhythm soothes and excites me at the same time.

It’s a song and dance, a chorus line – the letters getting into position and kicking up their legs and waving their arms to form a line, a sentence, a paragraph….a story/number/dance. Applause, applause and then encore. That’s every artist’s hope.

Images and words comes come to me out of nowhere. They float to me on wings of fancy, much like the ghosts of my childhood. I feel them in me. They take me to another place, outside of myself – to be that story, that dance, the Alice’s of my dreams.

I always sing and dance to my own tunes. I hear myself after awhile – the warble in my voice, the missed notes and out of steps. It’s not a bad idea to come out of myself, to hear other stories and to watch other dances. It is helpful to share and compare. Everyone has a story, a song and a dance.

It’s in the sharing and daring to tell our stories that opens up the world to us. Soon others give and receive in kind. I write to enrich my life. I am always reaching out there to touch a sister, a brother, a kindred spirit. That’s the way of my mother, her father and mother and all her siblings. I come by it honestly. There is no other way for me. We suffer for it.

People don’t always reciprocate. Some don’t want to and some can’t. I try not to ponder the why’s. Through life’s journey, I have learned to accept and not to take it personally. I have lost nothing in the process. I am neither less nor more. But I have created the possibility to receive more. It is worth it.

I write because I love the words, the beauty they can capture on a page. They crystallize those whimsical images and ideas that come to me from outer space. On a good day, I am able to tap them out onto the screen. On a good day I can make them sing and dance for me. Today is a good day for me. It is cold but my office is bathed in the warmth of the sun. Sheba is laying peacefully on the floor while my furry neighbour smiles at us from across the fence.

Want to sing and dance together? I’m not good at duets but I’m willing to try.

RIDDLE, FIDDLE, DIDDLE, DE

Posted on October 2, 2014 by hafong

image from http://www.cracked.com/article_18849_6-statistically-full-s2321t-dangers-media-loves-to-hype.html

My heart likes to do tricks in the morning. I pay it no attention. Let it do the fast elevator down. It’s trying to grab and trick me into excitement. I might be a slow learner, but I’m onto it now. Though I like to dawdle in the warmth of my bed, I rise and greet the day. It is still dark at 7 o’clock.

I smell fresh coffee perking. The aroma is enough to satisfy me. I know its tricks, too. It is in cahoots with my heart, trying to get me going. I make my Chai, strong and sweet. I savour its spicyness. It is enough. My heart beats its regular rhythm – no more elevator rides. It’s best not to think too much, to analyze and figure out the why of everything. It’s not always wise to get to the bottom of things. The bottom might fall out if you figure out all life’s riddles.

I have to leave things alone, let the mystery rest. Quite often, there is no mystery or reason. It just is. I have found that difficult to accept. I’m such a contradiction, you know. I HAVE to know. I HAVE to understand. Why? Why? Why? is my lament. I’m quite tired and worn out with my ceaseless ruminating. Now, I’m trying to be more accepting of the universe.

image from http://www.picswallpaper.com/download/in-wonderland-tea-party-wallpaper/

Yesterday, I stepped into Alice’s Wonderland for 15 minutes. I attended her tea party with the March Hare, the Mad Hatter and the Dormouse. The conversations were fascinating, remarkable and nonsensible. As I listened, I heard familiarities to real live conversations I’ve had. I recognized myself in Alice, always interrupting and demanding things to make sense. Her whys were answered with why nots. And indeed, why not? You might as well figure out life’s riddles with a fiddle.

Less ruminating and thinking for me. More doing and sweating. Those are new goals for me this month. No pain. No gain. I HAVE to heed my own words and PUSH forward, live life in the present lane – 15 minutes at a time. You can stand anything for 15 minutes, right?

You can travel a fair distance in 15 minutes even within the normal speed if you don’t dawdle, window shop or stop for coffee, I am pleasantly surprised at how much I can write, tidy up and read in that short time. Yesterday, I attended Alice’s tea party, met the King and Queen of Hearts and her whole troupe in that time. It is not always how hard or long I push. The key lies in my focus and steadfastness.

Different ways work for different folks. What works for me might not work for you. You have to fiddle and solve your own riddles. My songs and mantras make sense to me, but you will have to march to the beat of your own drum. And that is a blessing. Wouldn’t it be a dull world if there’s only one way, one tune, one beat? There will be no sound with one hand clapping. You have two of them. Use them both and clap with ferver. Clap with glee.

Don’t start a revolution. Instead, create a solution.

ONE STEP FORWARD, 3 STEPS BACK

Posted on October 1, 2014 by hafong

It’s one step forward and three steps back. That is the way it is, life in all its glory. I have never known a time without struggles.

image from http://dahlialune.deviantart.com/art/Lady-Macbeth-186528832

I know that this is the voice of my seasonal affective disorder talking. Funny I recognize it and yet I cannot rid the spell cast upon me. I feel it in my very marrow. I want to cast it out. Out, damn spot out! I’m sounding like Lady McBeth. I hope I’m not going mad.

Perhaps I’m being melodramatic, the hidden actress in me coming out. I should not be so weak and selfish, feeling only my own small discomforts. But I canot deal with all that is out THERE – the Ebola in Africa, the Umbrella Revolution in Hong Kong, the violence of Isis…

The world is too much with us. I feel small and helpless in its wake. It does me no good to be crushed under its weight. I turn off the television set. It’s not healthy to go to bed with the images of health workers in white protective clothing, carrying away stretchers of bodies wrapped in white. Let that not be the last image before I close my eyes for the night.

I sit for moments, drinking my hot water, watching Sheba sleep. The remains of a stuffed toy by her face, front paws curled and tucked in – a sweeter image to take to sleep with me. I get up, straightening up and folding the Hudson’s Bay blanket, picking up strayed napkins off the couch. I take my mug to the kitchen.

If I want to feel better, I have to do better. If I want different, I have to do different. I put away the few pots and pans left drying on the dish rack. It would be nice to be greeted by order on the counter in the morning. I move on to my office, clearing off my desk. There is no reason why I am not able to do that.

It is morning. After a little struggle getting to sleep, I have had a good sleep. Good things come to those who try. I wake up from a dream, remembering it vividly.

My hairdresser, Audrey comes home with me after work. It is strange how I still remember her name. I haven’t gone to her for over 20 years. She gives me a perm at the kitchen table. It takes 3 hours. I have no sense of her putting in the rollers but I remember the shampooing and rinsing. She was using this small teacup to pour the warm water over my hair.

The teacup is my mother’s. She had found it discarded somewhere and she wants it back. She’s always rescuing cups and napkins from eating out and reusing them again to pour cooking fat in and the napkins to wipe up messes. She hates how wasteful and careless we are in regards to the environment. So she does what she can.

My perm is done and Audrey calculates her time and worth. I can’t see the number on the bill. Dreams are like that – not clear nor complete. It is a mish mash of this and that, much like Alice in Wonderland. Somehow, my father is at my place and he is dusting my bookshelves. That is most unlikely in real life. His mother, my grandmother (now deceased) is the dream, too. She is doing the dishes – another most unlikely.

The dream continues. I see my gold shag carpet in the living room with the floral orange and brown sofa set. Remember those? Our family is suppose to go out for supper but some of the kids are sick. It is called off. A coworker pops into the dream. I’m coughing up a storm in front of her, working up an excuse to phone in sick for the next day. I’ve been retired for a year! And yet it follows me in sleep. Not often, I’m happy to say.

image from http://thirdeyeactivation.com/2012/11/tips-techniques-for-recalling-dreams/

What stuff dreams are made up of! I wonder what it means. Perhaps there are no meaning, hidden or unhidden. Maybe it is just irritated dendrites firing and misfiring. I shall just enjoy the mysteries of the dream and move on with the day. The sun has just come out. My Chai is strong and sweet. Savouring life, valuing dreams.

A SECOND CUP OF CHAI

Posted on September 30, 2014 by hafong

I am feeling discouraged this morning. The weight I had lost in the winter have all come back – with no help from me, of course! I feel them heavily, sinking my spirit to the ground. They sit on my hips, pushing and keeping me down. I sigh and sip my sweet Chai.

Oh life, why must you try me so hard? When I’m up, you bring me down. You even blotted out the sun this morning. There’s a brisk breeze blowing through the trees. My purple petunias are bravely nodding their heads. They have seen better days. Their season is over. It’s time to put them to sleep. I can see today is one of those days.

My head is like a jukebox sometimes. A thought or feeling is like a coin in a slot, triggering a song. The Byrds are now singing Turn, Turn, Turn. There is time for every purpose under heaven. Perhaps, it is signalling me to relax and let go of the uncontrollable.

Image from google.ca

I’m having a second cup of Chai, sans the honey and milk. That much control I have at this moment. I can’t speak for later. Sometimes I think the food manufacturers slip things into the food to get us hook. Why else do we have these cravings? The grey is making me a bit paranoid besides wanting to hibernate and add to my adipose layer. Damn it! I’m not letting that happen – much.

I’m in danger of running out of words, ideas and inspiration. I better save them for the Alice in my wonderland. I have, howerver, roused myself from the doldrum of lethargy and taken a run at the day as best I could. That’s all one could ask of oneself.

I’ve gotten up, dressed up and shown up. The bed is made, breakfast over and dishes are done. I’ve made a small batch of sunberry sauce. The aroma of sweetness, ginger and lemon spices the air. Sheba and I have walked, talked and barked at people and dogs. My little furry white neighbour is gazing at me intently through the window. I can feel his eyes boring into my back. He brings a smile to my face as I am tap, tapping away here.

Sheba saunters into the room. Looking up and out the window, she sees her teaser. She rears up on her hind legs and barks at him ferociously. He looks back, nonchalantly as to say, Who, me? What did I do? And so it goes. Every dog has its day, too.

How are you doing on this fine day? Want to share?

TELL ANOTHER STORY

Posted on September 29, 2014 by hafong

I take my first sip of tea. Sheba barks at a passerby. It’s Monday. It’s a cool 3 degrees Celsius sunlit morning. Gold and orange leaves drift down my elm trees and roll across the sidewalk. I think of the song The Autumn Leaves. I am feeling mellow and relaxed, none of yesterday’s angst.

I have to ask myself of yesterday, Was that true? Or did I let myself get roller coasted by the false feeling of the moment? I have to be more conscious and question myself the next time it happens. In the throes of my angst, I feel such self-loathing, mean spirited and anger. Is that who I am. What if it isn’t true?

This morning I consciously choose to turn it around. It isn’t true. What would I be without those thoughts about myself? I am not that person. That is when the sun came out and opened the door to my heart. I feel such relief. Thanks be to Byron Katie and her teachings!

I can tell another story for I am THE writer of my life. I have the control of the keyboard and the words. The page is clean, ready for me. What WILL Alice do today? Will she swim out of her puddle of tears? Will she follow the white rabbit or will she choose a path of her own? Will she continue to shrink and grow, shrink and grow haphazardly? Or will she put her foot down and say NO MORE ? I ~~will be~~ am who I am. I am Alice of the normal size.

Can you tell I have a fascination with Alice in Wonderland and Lewis Carroll? How can I not be? The charming nonsensical story brings a smile to my face. Just imagine yourself in a doll house, with one leg up the chimney and an arm out the window. Picture a gathering of animals outside underneath the window. The are trying to mount a ladder against the wall to reach the arm and yank Alice out of the house. See what I mean? Are your lips quivering with mirth?

Life need not be so serious and high voltage all the time. You can easily burn yourself up rah, rah-ing. Just watch this video.

Tight dresses and stiletto heels can be hazardous to your health. You can trip and fall. I hate even imagining the how of the fall and where those earrings would catch. Not that I am knocking Lisa Nichols. Life coaches and motivational speakers have important roles. Sometimes we need a rah or two to push us off our butts. I admire people like her and Tony Robbins. They have such electric personalities. They can get you moving, but will you be able to sustain it after the show is over?

I go for the slow motion of tumbling down Alice’s rabbit hole. It’s a needed rest from my seriousness. What is slow and fast can be deceiving. Sometimes I am faster than I think. I have a friend who signs off with “Don’t move faster than your Guardian Angel can fly” after every email. It’s good advice.

I like to say in the words of Gracie Heavy Hand from the Dead Dog Cafe :

“Stay calm. Be brave. Watch for the sign.”

onethousandandtwo

Looking at Infinity