I've Been Grounded

When I was growing up these words would stop me in my tracks. Today they do the same thing, but with a totally new meaning. As a preteen and teenager they meant that I had F-ed up in some way that made the parental units finally take notice and impart some of their wisdom on me, thank God that didn't work. Today it means that I need to slow my brain and take notice of the moment in which I find myself.

At my last therapy session, I relearned a grounding exercise that I had previously learned in a bygone therapy group. Grounding is a term used to ground you in the present moment because so much of our thoughts throughout the day are about what's happened in the past - and ruminating on it or reliving it over and over again at say 3:00 in the morning. Or we're planning for the future - near future - what has to get done tomorrow, or a future further out - where will my life take me and how will I be living it and will it be what I want it to be or will I be eating dog food and holding up a cardboard sign? But Lao Tzu tells us that "if we are depressed, we are living in the past. If we are anxious, we are living in the future. If we are at peace, we are living in the present." Bil Keane, of Family Circus fame said, "Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, today is a gift from God, which is why we call it the present." :0) I don't know who said this, but I like it. "The past was a lesson to be learned, not a life sentence to be carried out."

I did a bit of grounding exercises leading up to my surgery and I continue. I like breathing exercises because if you are thinking about your breath, you aren't thinking of anything else. Breathing in to a count of three and out to a count of three is easy. Placing a hand on your belly helps to not do chest breathing. A chest breath is a sign of anxiety, while belly breathing is calming.

Another one I like is feeling textures around me. Sometimes when I can't sleep because the past or the future are haunting me - I reach out and rub the hair on Bob's arms or the smoothness of his back. Or, I might pet the dogs. Mack is super soft and Bobby is a bit scruffy. I might rub my own legs or arms. The point is that I am letting myself get lost in the textures, which bring me into the present.

The one I relearned at therapy is the 5-4-3-2-1 grounding exercise. Eyes open name 5 things that you can see and describe them - check out their details, shiny, woody, metal, round, square, etc. Ears open name 4 things you can hear - near sounds and far sounds - chimes, clock ticking, traffic, a train, dog barking, etc. Now, 3 things you can feel - check out those textures that I mentioned before (your spouse, not mine). Next, 2 things you can smell - dog's breath, your own breath, the breeze coming in through the window. I put a floral or citrusy scent on my wrist at night, which can be calming. Finally, one thing that you can taste - your breath, a kiss from your partner, you can lick their skin or your own. I try to remember to put chap stick on before I go to bed, peppermint, cherry, etc.

I don't always use all five steps - like I said the texture one really works for me. But if I'm really working through some stress and I just can't sleep, I'll try going through all five. Sometimes getting up and writing about what might be bothering me helps because I can put it down and not carry it back to bed with me. I can pick it up later when I'm rested and can look at it with a less stressful perspective.

I did not expect this surgery to be this intensely painful or this debilitating. I'm used to bouncing back. It's only been 48 hours, but I can tell that this recovery is going to test the limits of my patience. Patience is a virtue that I, more than others, must practice with true intention. When I get an idea - I act on it. Some would say that I am impulsive. I like to think that I am a doer. I get shit done. I have a lot of hobbies that are just sitting and waiting for me to finish - Frederick's baby blanket, a half finished painting, recipes I've collected on Pinterest (ha ha - if you know me that one is a stretch, unless the recipe requires only three ingredients and the microwave). Anyway, laying around in pain is playing havoc with my patience.

I've heard that God only gives you what you can handle - or - what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. But, I also know that if this were not my life - it might actually be funny. Right now it's hard to laugh. Most of my life my sense of humor is all that I've had to cling to. That's not exactly true - I have Bob, who doesn't have to share the remote while I'm confined to the bedroom and my dogs, who are very happy to lay in bed all day with me. :0) It really doesn't make it easier though and this is going to be a long, long 8 weeks.

I read a quote yesterday from a group of psychologists that said, "The most successful marriages are those that have a calm husband and a dramatic wife." High five, honey, we nailed it!!