I am broken. We’re in the middle of a pandemic that has claimed more than 100,000 American lives…100,000 and climbing…that’s unimaginable and soul crushing. My daughter had the virus. She was lethargic one day and very sick with pneumonia the next. She is better. I am so incredibly grateful and so incredibly sad for those who have lost their lives. I am horrified at the number of people who have died and even more horrified that the pandemic is killing black and brown people disproportionally. I am broken by grief. Broken trying to make sense of this pandemic and wondering where we go from here. I miss hugging my grandchildren. I am broken hearted that their lives will now be divided between “before the pandemic” and “after the pandemic.”

I am broken. Broken by the death of George Floyd. Broken by the video of a police officer kneeling on George Floyd’s neck while he pleads for his life. Horrified that three other officers did nothing to stop the abuse…two of them participated by kneeling on George Floyd’s back and the forth attempted to block the view of cellphones recording the murder. And that’s what it was, a murder…not an accident, an unfortunate incident, or any other rationalization…and it was NOT his fault. This was police brutality for all to witness. This was a cold-blooded murder with three accomplices. And most horrifically it was not the first time. If you are black or brown in America it is not safe for you to walk down the street, go jogging, be asleep in your own home, sit in your car, exercise your right to peacefully protest or be arrested peacefully for a non-violent crime…Eric Garner, Micheal Brown, Freddie Gray, Alton Sterling, Delrawn Small, Tatiana Jefferson, Eric Reason, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, George Floyd, and so many others…when does it end?

I am broken. Broken by a President who calls peaceful protesters “thugs” because of the color of their skin and threatens violence against them. A President who had protesters tear gassed so that he could walk with his white, male cohort, to a church he never attends, for a photo op. He held up a bible, as if it was a weapon…or as if it suggested…I don’t know what…God is on his side?…God approves of his thoughtless actions?…that’s not a God I want anything to do with. He scowled as his picture was snapped and then retreated back to the White House…the PEOPLE’S house…ironic isn’t it?…in a sickening way. He doesn’t comfort, offer compassion, show outrage, call for changes, encourage healing…he threatens to bring the US military into the streets against the people of the United States.

I am broken by my sadness for my bi-racial grandchildren, perhaps especially my 13 year old grandson, who seems the most vulnerable right now. He listens as his mom tells him he is never to argue with a police officer. He needs to do what they say even if he hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s to be quiet, keep his hands in plain view, and cooperate. No thirteen year old should need that lecture…and yet he does. I am afraid for him. When he was eight or nine someone called the police and said a “kid” had a gun. The police came and fortunately they didn’t arrive prepared for an armed confrontation because he had a toy gun…AN ORANGE TOY GUN! He could have been killed because he had a toy gun…and he’s black…just ask the family of Tamir Rice.

And it’s easy to want to move quickly past all of this. All of our discomfort, fear, and uncertainty…but now is the time to stay. We need to stay in this moment…stay and be silent…stay and reflect. Reflect on the racism that undergirds our country and influences everything. Reflect on how people are treated differently in this country based on the color of their skin. How being black or brown influences your experiences, opportunities, or your reality of living in this country. We must be silent…don’t try and speak an easy fix for a society where there isn’t one. Be silent…and listen…deeply. Allow the black and brown people of this country to lead, educate, and steer the conversation. Let’s learn…finally…please…finally.

So here’s the thing…I am broken. We are broken. We cannot just shrug our shoulders, avert our eyes, and move blindly on. We need to stop…stop ourselves…stop our country…stop the world. Stop in this moment recognizing the only way forward…the only way to heal…the only way to fundamentally change, is to stay…even though it’s uncomfortable…stay right here…for a long as we need to…let’s stay.

I have been doing a lot of reading this past 640 days of staying home and the idea of a personal mantra kept coming up.  I am familiar with the idea of mantras and I have read a lot of famous people’s mantras…and worked very hard not to claim them as my own…because why reinvent the wheel?  However, it did seem as though my mantra should come from me…right?!  

Now I already have a vision…maybe a dream.  “Compassion First” is my vision for my life and for the world.  I believe that if everyone in the world would respond with compassion at the same moment in time it would change the world dramatically and forever.  I’m pretty sure there is never a bad time for compassion and I work to keep it at the forefront of my responses.

I have also been thinking about being present in my life.  I think that’s on my mind because there is SO much present right now.  The world came to a screeching hault on March 16th and it’s been all the present, all the time, since then.  Things sure do slow the fuck down during a pandemic…and to make it worse (or better depending on how full your glass is) I started waking up at 5:00…that’s AM not PM!  By 9:00 I’m ready for lunch and it’s quitting time at noon.  It’s a lengthy day to be present.

I’ve been contemplating what it takes to remain present today…and I’ve begun to break things down further…this day, this afternoon, this hour, this minute, etc.  So, to avoid my mind spinning out of control here, I tell myself, “Just this day.”  I can’t look much further than just this day…well I totally can but it’s super unhelpful.  Also I can’t promise months or years of anything really…I think I can with my marriage but really don’t I wake up and choose each day to be present in my marriage?  It’s all I have…just this day…just this moment…I can be here now.

And so what about this day, this moment?  What do I want from this present moment?  I want to be willing.  And thus my mantra was born.  “I Am Willing.”  Just this day…I Am Willing.  Willing to what?  Willing to learn, to grow, to feel, to feel everything, to stay (even when I’m scared), to love, to laugh, to care, to change, to understand, to desire, to see, to give, to enjoy, to cry, to be kind, to remember, to hunger, to forgive, to show compassion, to breathe, to let go, to try, to fail, to allow, to try again, to become, to know, to listen, to be still, to speak, to be honest, to be silent, to practice, to grow, to be seen, to remain open…to be present.  Those are a few of my willings.  I wanted to put as many willings on paper as possible so that I am reminding myself of what my mantra means…what my commitment to be willing involves.

So here’s the thing…you know how you read stuff that says that we are complete and we already have everything we need…we don’t have to go outside of ourself to find anything.  Never in my life have I hoped more that that is true then now…because I don’t have life enough left to find all the things that I listed that I am willing to be…I’m not opposed to living until I’m 962 but it seems unlikely.  What that means is that all of those qualities are already here inside of me…perhaps deeply buried but they are here.  I have to create the space for all my willings to make their way to the light of day so that I can cultivate them and allow them to become an exposed part of me.  And how long do I have to be willing to do that?  Just this day.

Just this day.  I am willing to show compassion first, because this world certainly needs it, especially now.

So here’s the thing…I like neat. I like order. I like boundaries and clarity. This can be seen in all areas of my life and even in how I set up my website and blog. I don’t have “a blog” I have 3 blogs…about my thoughts on life, chronic pain, and weight loss…everything in its own neat category. It only struck me yesterday that nothing I write about fits neatly into one topic alone with no overlap (f you could see me now I’d be hitting (gently) my face like that little emoji). It seems so obvious, and yet, as I like to say, “You can’t see something until you can see it.” I could not see this until yesterday. So I am reorganizing the website and blogs…now Blog.

There will be one blog only called “Compassion First. “Compassion First” because that is my personal motto that I try to live each day. I believe that if my response to myself and to others is compassion first, before any other reaction, it will change my world and has the potential to change the whole world. It’s a discipline to learn compassion and practice compassionate responses. I need compassion from myself in order to face the challenges I encounter in my thoughts and how I interact with myself regarding my pain and my weight.

I need Compassion First toward myself so that I can give compassion freely to others as well. My single blog will have my thoughts about everything…it’ll be all messy…and it’ll be true…my truth. It’s my truth about life and living with chronic pain, both physically and emotionally. All my mess will be my truth. And I’ll share my truth in the hope that it will benefit all who read it. As the saying goes “Your mess is be your message.” I sure have ample mess to share.

And please feel free to leave a comment or a question on my blog, email, karen@karenraines.com, Twitter, @kraines1111, or on Facebook. I would love to hear from you!

Remember, Compassion Frist…always…it’ll change you and the world.

Lately I have been thinking that when I write blogs I may not be putting enough of me in them. I think about how I feel and I write about those thoughts of feelings…I really do prefer to think my feelings…it’s so much less painful. I have been feeling a lot of fear about the future and what my body will be like…and I realize that none of this has happened yet…I am having anticipatory fear. ☺

I currently have a torn rotator cuff and a partially torn ligament in my foot…it’s called a Liz Franc injury (just a fancy way of saying it’s fucked up). Because of the Liz Franc injury I am in a boot for three weeks. If that doesn’t work then I have to be more immobilized with a cast and the last resort is surgery. The problem with those last two possibilities is that I would not be able to put any weight on my foot…my current self is not able to be hopping around…I don’t hop.

I have no idea how I could be non-weight bearing. I have an elbow replacement and a very recent surgery to reattach my triceps and have been told to never use a crutch in my left hand because my elbow can’t take the stress…so much for thinking I’m bionic. I suppose a wheelchair would work…yuck.

During all this turmoil and uncertainty I wrote a poem called “Still Love Me” and it expresses my fears and also the realizations that came to me.

If this is my life
Going from surgery
To surgery…to surgery
Will you still love me?

I have been down this road before
Promises of commitment
Unending support
And then it ended
One day a person could love me
And the next they couldn’t I
t was all too much…
That’s funny because
It’s too much for me too

I am tired
Exhausted by endless appointments
Tests, and more tests
Trying everything possible
It’s hard not to give up
Especially when others give up

If I’m cranky and irritable
For no reason
If I snap or argue
Will you still love me?
Can you still love me?

Can you continue to see
What’s inside of me
The stuff you fell in love with
The me you fell in love with
I am still there
And I try to be reachable

If my body continues to decline
And needs more and more repair
If I can’t move well
Or do the things I used to
Will you still love me?
Am I still lovable?

Can you take my shame
My mistakes and regrets
Can you hold them tenderly
And remember they aren’t me
Can you still see me?
Can you still love me?

We said always and forever
Is the promise too long?
Can you still see us always?
A lifetime together
Still loving you
Still loving me

The suddenly realize
The question isn’t
Will you still love me…
It’s can I still love me?
In a body that disappoints me daily
In a life where I make mistakes…small and large
And have regrets and struggles
Shame and remorse
Can I treat myself with tenderness?
Can I still love me?
Will I still love me?

 

So here’s the thing…I know I’m overweight. I do not need a reminder from anyone. And for some people, such as myself, we feel bad about it…I feel very noticeable and judged…uncomfortable in my own skin…and that is without anyone speaking a word. I sometimes joke that I want to go and live somewhere where people are fat…fat and happy.

So I had a mammogram this morning. This is something that must be done but no woman looks forward to it (and nothing I’m saying is meant to discourage anyone from having a mammogram…they are super important and lifesaving). It’s like playing Twister with a 3D machine and using your breast instead of your hands…you have to step this way, push your hips out, move this arm higher up her, keep your chin up and to the left, and hold your breath…while your breast is smooshed flat and held in place by the machine…piece of cake, right?

So as if all that is not enough, you have to wear a hospital gown that is open in the front. One size gown for everyone…really? This gown fits everyone who is under probably 130 pounds…or anyone not over a size 12. But here’s the thing, there are lots of women (and lots of men) over a size 12…why are we dismissed or not taken into consideration when thinking through the size of gowns? Why am I asked to wear a gown that I have to hold shut so my breasts don’t show? And then I am looked at as though I am less than other people who can tie their gown…and regardless of whether anyone else thinks it’s wrong or my fault that the gown doesn’t fit I should have access to one that does. I should be able to be as comfortable as possible while I have this test…because I am already nervous.

Certainly my weight is in my control…although according to AA type meetings for overeating I am powerless and have to admit that I cannot control my eating/weight on my own…not sure which view is right…maybe it’s some of both…it’s that damn “Middle Way” again! Regardless of what anyone weighs, everyone’s needs should be taken into consideration…all women should be as comfortable as possible having a mammogram.

So here’s the other thing… weight is one issue but I am also disabled and that adds to my frustration. I have to hold my gown shut and walk with a crutch or walker and that leaves me with no hands free if I need them…like getting up out of chair, for example, I have to decide to let my gown go or use the arm recovering from surgery to help me stand up. It is frustrating being disabled and more frustrating to feel dismissed…because this happens all the time, different circumstances but the same effect.

Disabled…people say “differently able”. I don’t want to be “different” and I am not “dis” anything…”To treat with disrespect or contempt: insult” that’s how Merriam Webster defines “dis”. “Contempt” because my body doesn’t work like yours…disrespected in inadvertent ways…subtle…dismissed…disregarded. Each time something doesn’t fit me, whether it’s a gown that doesn’t close or a door I can’t open, I am shown the contempt of our society…contempt and disrespect because I am different…differently able and differently shaped.

I have struggled coming to terms with the word “disabled” and the label that is attached to me…the tag that’s on my car that identifies me as different. I once had a woman ask me what you have to do to get a handicap placard, (and I do not recommend asking this question). I told her that I had arthritis, a knee replacement, degenerative disc disease…and then I stopped and she just said, “Oh” and walked away. Ya “Oh”!

Ya “Oh”…that may be the attitude we need to have when we want to judge someone for being different. “Oh”…I don’t really know anything about this person or their life…”Oh” I wonder if that person is in a lot of pain…”Oh” maybe I could hold the door just to be kind…”Oh” maybe I don’t need to judge others…”Oh” maybe I need to look at myself and where I feel different or unacceptable…”Oh” it could be that my own thoughts are the problem… “Oh” why am I always the damn problem?! Me and my mind…Ya “Oh!”

So here’s the thing…I really hate it when I am mad at someone and I am feeling very righteous in my anger and then I realize that the problem is me, not them. Damn it! That is so frustrating and annoying…and it happens more frequently than I’d like to admit.

I’ll be thinking that someone is cranky with me and that they are acting angry and speaking to me in a sharp tone…then I ask myself “Am I sure? Am I sure they are mad at me? And if I stay with it I realize I’m not sure at all…then I get the 2×4 in the head from the Universe and I realize it’s me! I’m the angry one…and I am angry at myself…I’m being short with myself because I am upset with myself…the other person isn’t doing anything…Craaap!

See, I like to be right…I mean I REALLY like to be right. I used to work as an attorney and I got paid to be right…and to argue. Being right and arguing are two things that help me NEVER in any relationship. How annoying is it to be around someone who wants to be right all the time? Or that argues to convince you how right they are…It’s exhausting right?

You know how people, annoying people ☺, tell you that the things that bother you in someone else are actually things you don’t like about yourself? And have you noticed that it’s true? I get frustrated with people who always want to be right and I reach a point where I don’t want to be around them…it’s hard for me to swallow the fact that I can be that person…Shit!

When I am having a conflict I try and stop and ask myself “Am I sure?” (Although I am currently thinking of a sassier “Really?”). I always think I’m right and yet so often I have no idea if I am right. I cannot be inside people’s heads to really know why they do or say the things they do…and it’s arrogant of me to think I can. I really hate noticing my own arrogance…makes me want to notice someone else’s instead…yup that’s the problem. F**K!!!!

Sometimes my pity party will lead me to wonder (only in my head, fortunately) why I’m always the one who has to apologize or who has to learn something, like why I feel the way I do or why I say or do what I do…how come no one else has to? Well that’s me being an ass…How can I possibly know what is happening in another person’s life…what they’re thinking, feeling, learning, or changing. I don’t know that unless I allow them to tell me…what I need to listen?!

When I allow them to tell me…and I am silent and really listen…I can understand the risk they take by exposing themselves to me…I can see and feel their vulnerability…and I can allow myself to fully embrace the gift they are giving me…the gift of knowing them.

So here’s the thing, we live in a very noisy world…voices telling us what to do and who to be all the time. We need time to be alone with ourselves in silence and we need to be silent and listen…a lot. Those are to things I really am sure of.

So here’s the thing…I started this whole “Shedding More Than Pounds” because I know that weight loss for me is a tricky issue and my thinking was that if I wrote about it maybe I could unpack it…or pack it and send it away. Food would be so easy to manage if I could just give it up…then I wouldn’t have to look at what food means to me and my relationship to it…it’s so messy. I could just act all self-righteous, “Oh food? I gave that up years ago…you still eat?”

There are so many things that shape our relationships to everything around us, even food. Food is a loaded topic because we feel so much about food…foods we were raised eating, holiday foods, foods for comfort, foods for rituals, celebrations, traditions, funerals, stressful times…anytime. There is just so much there…where to start?

Songs frequently connect with me on an emotional level…something I’ve listened to forever I suddenly hear differently. For example, I was listening to “Beautiful Trauma” by P!nk and I heard some of these lyrics in a completely new way. I heard it relating to food or any addictive behavior that isn’t helping me and needs to be tamed…I need my Middle Way…again…always…where is this elusive Middle Way anyway?

This thing I love, that is my “drug” could be food, alcohol, actual drugs, television, shopping, or just avoidance in general, whatever allows me to numb out. Even though it may not be working for me I love it…it’s my “drug” and I am committed to it. Committed to the way it makes me feel for a day, an hour, a moment…whatever relief I can find.

It’s the “pill I keep taking” because it is what I know. It’s what I am comfortable with…even though it doesn’t work. Even though it’s fucked up I keep reaching for it…hoping it will heal me. Heal me from whatever traumas still eat away at me. These sufferings can be anything…past abuse, current abuse, chronic pain, health problems, disability, job loss, the end of a relationship…anything that helped shape who I am and continues to cause pain in my life.

When I was driving and listening to this song and all of this struck me, I immediately wanted to eat…and I wanted junk food or food that I associate with comfort. Now the neat and tidy telling of this story would have me going home, writing and meditating… feeling all Zen about everything. The messy reality was that I got some fries and a coke. Perhaps there was a positive in that I was very clear on what I was doing and why…it’s all baby steps, right? And if you’ve ever seen a baby walking it’s very unsteady…a baby is never sure how long they will remain on their feet in any one moment…they are just doing their best, one drunken step at a time.

The words of the song stirred up feelings for me…loss, sadness, confusion, maybe anger…and I did not want to stay with those feelings, hence the fries. I noticed, maybe for the first time, that as I ate the fries I stopped feeling…the only thing I felt was full…who wouldn’t prefer feeling full to sad or confused?

These are the “pills” I keep taking because that’s how I have survived…they helped me cope with the difficulties in my life. To stop feeling…except full…there isn’t room for anything else when you’re full…there’s nothing, nothing but fullness…”My love, my drug, we’re fucked up”…that’s so true.  

Imagine explaining to your 12 year old grandson why all the schools are closed because someone has made a “credible threat” to shoot children at school…that she came to Colorado to kill our children. If ever I prayed for wisdom it was that moment….The good thing about adolescents is that they don’t stick to one topic very long because they have to get back to the things that concern them. That is normally frustrating but I was thankful for it yesterday…the ability to just drop it and go play basketball.

Why does someone want to kill children…or anyone? What was the “credible threat” that shut down at least 9 major school districts around the state? Sometimes it’s hard to understand what is happening in our country. I know that the debate about guns in this country is a very divisive issue and people are passionate about gun ownership.

So here’s the thing…I know there is a constitutional right to “bare arms” and I don’t really have an issue with that. My issue is more with what the framers of the constitution envisioned when they created that right. I do not think they could imagine the weapons we have now…automatic and semi-automatic rifles that can kill hundreds of people in seconds…These guns were never on their radar.

Muskets were the guns of the their time…if we all want guns, let’s have muskets. That way you have to stop and pour the gunpowder in the gun and tamp it down, shoot and then start over to shoot again. That seems like a fair and responsible approach to weapons. Not only would it become impossible to shoot vast numbers of people in seconds but it would also create a pause…a moment to think before acting.

With automatic weapons a person can act impulsively…you piss me off and I shoot you, and possibly many others. If I have to stop and pour the gunpowder and get my musket ready…I have a moment to think about what I am doing…do I really want to shoot the person or am I just angry or frustrated and I need to relax and breathe…maybe come up with a different reaction? Maybe a re-action…a new and different action.

We live in a world where shootings have become the norm of what we see on the nightly news. It happens so often that we become numb to it…just another day…just another shooting. I am outraged by the shootings. Outraged that my grandchildren need to worry, or even consider, being shot in school. The adults in this country need to speak up and force our leaders to do something…please do something.

Wise actions, wise view, wise speech…wise eating?

So here’s the thing, if I have been eating healthy all day then shouldn’t I have lost a ton of weight…for sure by tomorrow I will have lost 30 pounds or more…right?

Patience is a virtue…but it’s not my virtue…not always anyway. I’m more of a have right now kind of person. Our poor bulldog has been on a diet for months and lost 1 pound…I feel her pain. Why am I so impatient about this? (I don’t need to analyze all my impatience right now.)

In Graduate School we were talking about where we feel emotions in our bodies. I realized that the emotions we were talking about anger, fear, even love I feel in my stomach…you know how we say “I feel it in the pit of my stomach”? That’s where I felt it…the pit of my stomach. I also realized that I was frequently mistaking that uncomfortable feeling with hunger…if I’m angry I eat. If I’m afraid I eat…or happy or sad or anything. That feeling leads me to eat…and that helped me understand how I eat my feelings. It’s too bad that just recognizing something doesn’t necessarily change it.

I heard Shonda Rhimes interviewed by Oprah and she had just lost a lot of weight. She said that she realized that she worked hard at everything in her life. She worked her butt of at work and as a parent so she wondered why she thought she would not have to work at losing weight. I get that…I want my desire to be healthy and live a long life to be enough to completely change any negative habits I have…and immediately please. I have also worked hard to accomplish the things I have in my life and so I should be able to accomplish this.

It seems like all the diets out there have you give up something…except Weight Watchers but you count points and that makes me insane…I feel like all I do is think about food and plan eating and that makes me want to eat all kinds of things I never eat. There’s low carb diets, eating like cavemen (and women), high protein, vegan, vegetarian, no sugar, no alcohol, you can buy premade meals or drink your meals (not alcohol ☺)…on and on it goes…what to do?

Michael Pollan says that we should eat food, not too much, mostly plants…or something close to that. Food being things with no more than four ingredients on a package…primarily no packages…lots of fresh fruit and veggies. Those instructions sound sensible to me.

Buddha was born a Prince. His father wanted to shelter him so he kept him within the palace walls. He had anything he wanted to eat or drink whenever he wanted it. When he left to find enlightenment he swung the pendulum the other way. He almost starved himself to death eating as little as a grain of rice a day. After his enlightenment he talked about the middle way…not being gluttonous and no starving.

I am looking for my middle way…I am pretty sure it is not the same for everyone because we are all so different…and where is the middle anyway? Is it exactly the middle…or close to the middle…or just not to the extreme either way? I’m guessing my questions demonstrate my lack of middle wayness.

I was reading a story one day about an injured football player. He was playing even though he had a broken bone. The commentary on him was how strong he was…maybe the strongest person the writer had ever met.

We idolize people who continue to play a sport even though they are injured and may do more damage to their bodies. We admire them and praise them for their strength and determination. We respect them because of their toughness and because they never complain. I think our praise for that behavior is misguided…or misplaced…or just missing the mark.

I grew up idolizing athletes and modeled them in many ways, including not listening to my body…feeling weak if I couldn’t do whatever I wanted. It seems like that behavior is born out of insecurity and fear…fear of rejection…fear of failing…fear of not being enough…not being enough just as me.

I know I need to reframe what I consider admirable strength…reframe it with the wisdom of compassion…and maybe common sense. Strength may actually be found in being present with whatever is happening…staying in my body even when I am in pain. Thinking about all of this led me to write this poem called “The Strongest Person I Know.”

Playing football with a broken bone
Elicits the response… “He’s the strongest person I know”
I want to be the strongest person you know
Doesn’t complain
Copes with anything
Plays through the pain
Always finds the positive
Pushes forward no matter what
No sign of weakness
No pain no gain…right?

The strongest person
Doesn’t feel
Doesn’t allow
Doesn’t sit with anything…no time
Must keep moving…distracting
Too many unfelt
Unexperienced
Unrecognizable emotions

She can’t be the strongest person
And be present with pain
With disappointment, confusion
With grief, gut wrenching sadness
The strongest person doesn’t get lost

In my mind it’s all or nothing
The strongest…or the weakest
No room for anything in between

This won’t stop him
He’ll be back
She never quits
Nothing will stop her
She will always push, always do, always be a winner….

Is there a different perspective?
A bigger view…

The strongest person I know
Nothing will stop her…from sitting
She’ll never quit…being with her feelings
This won’t stop her…from being present
Even though it’s tremendously painful

The strongest person I know Is content to be who she is
Fully human and frightened
She’s afraid but she stays
She’s confused but she stays F
eels lost but she stays…no excuses S
he’s the strongest person I know
She’s fearless

© Karen Raines 2016 All rights reserved