Friday, November 18, 2011

Humbling

When I have a difficult time "turning off" my ever-ruminating brain so that I might, you know, sleep and stuff.....I find Tara Brach - both her messages and her voice to be profoundly relaxing and meaningful. She has a great sense of humour but also the deep wisdom of the ages. She is a practicing Buddhist, but I find almost everything she says to be perfectly applicable to Christian life and spiritual practice.

I've been listening to her a lot lately.

Since my recent head injury, I have found that I need to respect and listen to my body more than ever. Tara speaks often about the wisdom of the body and our own need to show the same lovingkindness to ourselves that we so willingly offer to others.

My body hasn't given me much choice in terms of listening over the past two weeks. To be clear, all three docs that I saw over the course of my injury said the same thing: My recovery could happen in a week, or in six months. No one has the magic ball to see and know how my brain will heal itself. In the meantime, the more I can rest my brain, the better. (reminder: that means no tv, no books, no computer, nothing - it's the only way the brain can heal itself. Yes, I'm turning off the computer after this.)

It's been a very humbling experience to be sure, but I have certainly learned more than I ever thought I would know about listening to my body. What I've found over the past two weeks since returning to work is that when I'm done, I'm seriously done. In other words, when those waves of nausea and profound "Every Cell In My Body Is Screaming For Rest" moments occur, I could not ignore them even if I wanted to.

I still have "Foggy Head". Most things take twice the time to do, especially if they involve thinking or problem-solving.

After six years of "toughing it out" with excrutiating head pain, it is an entirely different dynamic when the body just says "No Way!" It used to be that I could make one more visit, or respond to a few more emails, or read a few more chapters of material relating to Sunday's sermon.........and THEN rest up with my favourite ice pak.

It's hard to believe that I actually found that limiting!

Now, it's not a matter of choice. When the brick wall hits, the only thing I can do is reach for some peppermint tea for the nausea and STOP.

Thankfully, this will pass.


Going back to Migraine-Life will feel like a walk in the park by comparison. Who would have every thought?????

My perfectionist tendancies have taken a serious hit over the past few weeks. I've had to take notions of myself as "not enough" or "not good enough" and let those go. Letting go is a challenge for me. I like to meet goals. I like to do my best. Not quite reaching the bar on either of the above has been humbling to say the least. But it will pass, and God-willing, I will have learned something from it all.

Lesson #1: Stay out of the kitchen unless absolutely necessary.

Lesson #2: The bar will always be higher than any goal I can ACTUALLY meet. Why do I do that to myself, even when I'm feeling healthy and good? Why can't I just be good enough the way I am at any given time?

Hmmm........food for thought that will become much clearer over time. For now, I'm sleepy again and need to nap. Again.

But that's okay too.

I don't have a cast on my arm or a sling over my shoulder, but I am just as injured as anyone who might have those things. Acknowledging that is both humbling and liberating. I don't have to reach the bar right now because I simply cannot do it. What I AM able to do has to be enough.

When my body heals and speaks that healing into my soul (thank you Tara), I'll be ready for more. Until then, I remain a humble, if somewhat broken, servant of Divine Love, Holy Mystery, the same God who created me in Love and holds me in Love - no matter what.

3 comments:

Terri said...

Amen, sister, body wisdom speaks.

kathy a. said...

((( sue )))

Jamie said...

Great post, Sue. I understand what you mean about having to stop... NOW! My migraines are sometimes like that. When my brain stops working... it's done, and there's nothing I can do to change that... there's no "pushing past it." I hate it! I also understand what you wrote about being a perfectionist. I deal with that, too. I think the reality that we can't reach the bar that we always set too high becomes magnified, when we're living with chronic pain.