Its funny how things change, and the threads of beautiful lessons that can be found, woven through seemingly utter chaos and pain.
I have time trackers on my computer from less than a year ago, documenting every minute of my day to see where I could squeeze in more productivity. Every second of my life was scheduled in attempt to do better, be better, grow my businesses faster. It was all just a coping mechanism to try to control the direction of my life while my home was in utter destruction. I was trying to manage it all – a home, a partner, his kids, two businesses, a third job, covering all the bills, leaving said relationship, starting over, keeping my businesses growing – and the only way to keep myself sane was to incessantly schedule everything. But trying to control my life and everything around me was like trying to rein in a tornado. I see that now, as I see that life has a funny way of showing us what we are doing wrong, as I’m currently struggling to schedule anything at all. Not for lack of time, will or drive, but for lack of health.
I went from having an unhealthy amount of structure, to no structure at all.
I feel like one day looked like this (random day copied from my time tracker):
6-6:15 – bathroom, dog in crate, set up coffee
6:15-7:10 – meditation, personal development, video uploaded for team, 1 post, fed dog and let out, gratitude journal
7:10-7:40 – made breakfast
7:40-8:30 – ate breakfast outside while checked in to trainings and notifications, posted to groups,
8:30-9:40 – workout
9:40-10:00 – take care of dog, sit outside and create posts about workout
10:00-11:00 – shower, hair, makeup, dressed for salon, laundry,
11:00-11:20 – put away dishes, tidied up, made shake, set up work space
11:20 – 12:00 – power hour
12:00-1:00 – visit with friend and family
1:00-1:20 – filled out meal planner and made lunch, responded to a couple messages
1:20-1:40 – took care of dog, packed stuff into my car, organized for work
1:40-5:00 – work at salon
5:00-5:15 – had a break walked into town to run an errand
5:15-8:30 – worked at salon
8:30-9:00 – took care of dog, ate dinner
9:00-10:00 – started filling out mandatory questionnaires for before my specialist appt which is next week
10:00 – bed
And overnight it turned to this:
7:30 – wake up, absorb the pain streaming through my legs and body, tell my body to open my eyes, figure out what day it is, lay in bed adjusting to the pain.
7:45 – get up, feed dog, realize how difficult it is to function, take medicine, wait 10 minutes before I can lay back down, and go back to bed.
10 – attempt to get up again. Self-talk my way to the kitchen while I debate if my stomach is up for eating, and if it is, what it can stomach. Realize that I have no energy to cook anyways and it hurts too much to stand, and make a shake or toast instead and go back to the couch.
11 or 12 or 1 or whenever happens to be an hour before my day at the salon starts I begin the self-talking again in order to shuffle to the shower, because my legs still aren’t ready for the day.
If it’s a day that I have to wash my hair (every second day) then I don’t wear makeup, because I can only manage shampoo and blowdry OR makeup, not both. And if it’s a day off then probably neither – although if it’s a day off I’m probably still on the couch and it doesn’t matter.
I put together some yogurt and an apple, and if I’m lucky anything else that I feel I can stomach that day and head to the salon where I spend the day standing, forcing a smile, listening, sympathizing, and being grateful for my incredible clientele, all while pretending that I’m not in pain from head to toe, the walls are not closing in on me, and I don’t have electric shocks shooting through my skull.
8pm – I come home, I feed the dog, I go to bed.
I’m so tired of fighting every day. Of having to put a positive spin on every shitty symptom and flare up and loss. Of knowing each morning before I have to get ready that in 15 minutes I will wipe my tears, shuffle to the shower through the pain, get dressed, go to physio or whatever doctor appointment I have and then put on a happy face for 8 hours of styling people’s hair. I know that I will keep fighting because it’s the only choice I have. But this sucks. And I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of pep-talking my way through each day and pretending while I smile at clients and friends that I don’t have electric shocks randomly slicing through my head or that the smell of the chemicals doesn’t make my head feel like it’s going to burst or that I don’t feel like vomiting or that I didn’t just talk myself through piercing pains through my chest or down my arm or legs going weak. Or that I don’t feel like I am watching the walls closing in around me as I colour my clients hair.
I don’t schedule my life anymore because I simply don’t know what I’ll be able to do when. This past Sunday I had an awesome day. I cooked, I cleaned, I went to the market, I visited my brother and his step-daughter, I had a friend over, I lived like I normally would. Monday, I crashed. I spent the rest of the week slipping out of the salon between clients to cry and trying to figure out how I’ll make my life work if I become unable to work.
I miss when every day was like Sunday.
You see when life gets rough, or when extra expenses arise (which they sure do when the only available treatment is private!), its in my nature to work harder and longer. To schedule every second of my day so that I can be the best, most efficient, most productive person I possibly can be. To organize every penny I spend into a spreadsheet so that I can most effectively see where I can cut and save. To take control over every aspect of my life that I can, to power through the storm and come out stronger on the other side.
Life has now hit me with a giant corn maze in the fall. Its foggy and grey and has no clear route. One has to stumble down many dead ends before they may find the clearing on the other side. And its heavy. It weighs you down more and more as you crawl through the thick, sticky fog until eventually, someone has to carry you the rest of the way.
I don’t like to be carried. So I kept pushing. Even when my body said stop I kept working. Picking up even more shifts in order to cover the piles of medical expenses. Scheduling clients earlier and later than normal, squeezing people in to accommodate them without considering my own needs. And spent the week crumbling more and more as each day went on.
Tonight I finally slowed down and I realised that I’ve been trying to rein in a tornado.
Its funny how things change, and the threads of beautiful lessons that can be found, woven through seemingly utter chaos and pain. And I do believe that there is a twisted, beautiful lesson interwoven here that may stitch up a few wounds. Keep the routines that include self-care. Be flexible. Be kind to yourself. Slow down long enough to see the lessons. Then find a way to adjust, recreate, and continue moving forward.
When I finally find my way out of this maze I will be a new person with new lessons learned and gifts to give. I believe I will be more grateful for every day life. More empathetic to those with chronic physical or neurological illnesses. More able to let go of the negative things and people in life. I believe that when I crawl my way out of this I will live more beautifully. I will be greater than I ever was when I was incessantly scheduling, and I will have more to give back to this world. I will be more forgiving of not only others, but of myself. I may even be able to forgive our distorted medical system; but then again, lets not push it.