“Resistance is Universal. We're wrong if we think we're the only ones struggling with resistance. Everyone who has a body has resistance.” -Steven Pressfield in the The War on Art
Resistance meaning self doubt, fear and all those thoughts of I'm not sure, what if I fail, maybe i'm not good enough....
I have been saying I want to write a book for while. Starting with a blog although not sure where to begin. So much has happened I feel slow doing all things. Even figuring out a name for the blog seems daunting. Hmmmmm, maybe some of that resistance thang happening. What I can say, is that I am full of gratitude.
SO, no thinking, just writing and we will see what flows. Here I sit in Morocco. Must say, it's quite nice and surreal at the same time. Hard to believe I was sitting in the ER at NYU a week ago from today. Have to admit, that was scary in big letters. For the 1st real time in my life, I felt grateful for all the things my body could do (at that moment, it could not do much/scratch that, more like nothing much). The slightest movement seemed to send a searing pain in my chest which made it harder to breath. The pain I can take, the weird fuzzing in and almost out of consciousness, not so much. I kept repeating to myself, slowly breathe in, slowly breathe out and thank you God for all my blessings with a good dose of Help! Please! p.s. If you have not read Help, Thanks, Wow by Anne Lamott you must! When they shuttled my hubs out and the cardiac and neuro docs flocked into the party with a few nurses, it excelled to uh-oh serious. Hours later, too many blood tests to name, spell or heaven forbid, pronounce, eccas, echos, cat scans and a fuzzy, few dizzy spells later, I was admitted for observation. They said it could be anywhere from 2 hours to 2 days to....kind of a bummer since my flight for Morocco was scheduled to depart at 10pm that night. Was not looking good. Needless to say, I could almost hear my Mother from Florida screaming: “absolutely not” and my brother saying this once again might be God trying to get my attention about going away for a month. Maybe I was not suppose to go. Even I at this point was having doubts. Especially, if I am not interested in eating, then we know there's some kind of issue.
I am a pretty head strong person and have been told by family members that there's a pretty big slab of concrete across my forehead housing my brain and my ideas. My idea that morning when I got up and could not move was to go to a hot yoga class. I was really sure this would help! But after not being able to hold or sip a cup of coffee (which is mandatory upon waking), I started to think maybe not. It elevated to a loud no when the first dizzy spell came and I felt like I was on a really bad drug leaving star trek style to go somewhere else. It did not feel very exciting like I am sure it was when they said “Beam me up Scotty” on the show. It felt downright terrifying. I was not sure if I was having a heart attack...well, I did hit the big 5-0 this year. And well yes, there's been a little strain lately.... My husband John was having his own heart attack watching me come unplugged. Before I was going to fuzz out Jimi Hendrix style and made it to my hands and knees, I squeaked out to call 911. And I HATE hospitals. No offense! But I can't get blood drawn without turning into a hot, clammy mess. After I came back to planet earth (kind of) we decided walking to the ER was faster than an ambulance (especially in NYC) since we live right around the corner. Somehow I got it together- well, as much as someone can be together like this with my shirt on inside out and at that point, thank God I had pj pants on because I don't think I could have managed that part. So we hobbled sloooooooooooowly to the NYU Emergency. The good news was they took me right away. The bad news was I looked that frightening that they took me right away. Scarier still, that after a little while, they gave me a second EKG because I looked worse than when I had arrived. Oh boy.
Checked in 8am. Cleared and checked out 5pm. Two doctors declaring there were no problems with my plumbing, many more Thank you Gods and I was on my way to the airport. I was pumped with a bit of valium and was feeling slightly strange, yet slightly wonderful. A little concerned what would happen when the dose would ware off in the middle of the night on a trans-Atlantic flight. Am i bullheaded to be going? All tests clear and had it in the back of my mind that I am replacing a teacher in Morocco and what happens if I did not show up? I was responsible for taking over someone's business and not likely I can be replaced at the 11th hour......Ate a huge tasteless sandwich the size of a small log to load up on a mega dose of motrin, ativan and off I went. This is where the “Wow” comes in regarding Anne Lamott's book. I woke up feeling.... fine. Argh! Fine is a non-word! I could breath! I could move! Yes! Hallelujah! Sore like I had been beaten in the back with a bat, but GREAT.
So, Wow! So here I sit with camels out my window trying to figure out the next phase of life. . The pit-stop in the ER certainly kicked off my soul-search with a good dose of gratitude. There have been painful things leading to this phase but I believe they happened exactly as they were meant to so that i can learn to get out of my own way. As one of my favorite poets Mary Oliver said- "What will we do with this precious life?" Hmmmm. Time to kick resistance in the arse and shine bright.