Morning musings

I got up this morning
Puttered around the virtual world
Ate my bran cereal
Took four pills with diet gingerale
Read my morning email, fresh from midnight
And fed the fish

What I didn't do is a lot more
I didn't do yoga
Or take a morning walk in the misty glow
I didn't bake bread
I didn't read poetry or philosophy
I didn't chant or sing or pray
And yet, I decide it is a good start
To another day

Inner Dialog

I am moved to write this morning. I am not sure why this impulse comes to me so infrequently but I am learning to be more gentle with myself and go with the flow more. I had and still have so many expectations of myself. If I am going to blog, it should be every day. Just another chore to fall by the wayside like daily yoga, daily meditation, daily reading.... I am slowly realizing that this drill sergeant mentality isn't working for me.

So what inspired this post? I was reading blog posts by two fascinating writers, Crap Mariner and Kris Schomaker/Gracie Kendal, both of whom are struggling with their own self judgement. What is amazing to me is that I admire both of them so much, to me they are so successful and accomplished, and yet they struggle just like I do. Their judgments and self-criticisms sound remarkably similar to my own. In fact, my own critical voice uses all their accomplishments (blogging, creative endeavors, virtual fame etc) to point out my lack. But deep down a little voice defends me. Perhaps I have some accomplishments of my own too that I am under-representing in my own mind the way I see them under-representing theirs.

I have been working towards moderating my overly critical self image and high expectations for years with great success or little progress, depending on which part of me is making the assessment. But my recent illness adds a new wrinkle to this. I have had to lower my expectations significantly. In early June, right after it happened, I put most off most of my projects and non-critical decision until August, what I thought would be the magic month when I would be 'back to normal.' With August approaching, I am starting to worry that there will be nothing magic about August and at the same time I have this antsy feeling like I do want to start something. I know that this inspiration is another desperate attempt to do something that I can finally be proud of and that will allow my critical self to accept me. This is a false hope. By design, the inner critic is never pleased and never accepting.

And this is where I start to feel a glimmer of self-satisfaction. I smile. I know this. And if I can create this powerful, unrelenting inner critic, I can also create a faithful, stalwart inner supporter.

A new path...

I am writing in this blog again, after ... so long ... nearly 5 years! Hard to believe. And so much has changed. I won't go into it all. What I want to do is start from here. Start anew. A recent event has had a dramatic effect on my life. A little over 3 weeks ago I had a heart attack due to a dissected right coronary artery. It came completely out of the blue -- spontaneous is the term the doctors use. No trauma, no plaque, no discernible cause. Spontaneous.

The first few days, I felt so fragile and I felt betrayed by my body. How could it do this to me? What will happen next? Every twinge of pain brought panic. I toughed it out. After the first day I stopped asking for anything stronger than Tylenol. I walked up and down the hallway to gain strength and fight boredom. I also felt a huge wave of support and love from friends and family all over the world.

The love and support from friends and family really helped me. Tim visited me each day and would read all the comments and posts to my and his facebook pages. It helped me feel stronger and grateful... it brought me fully back into this world after my short escape (my heart stopped in the ambulance on the way to the hospital).

Now I am feeling more and more like my old self. I am walking further, doing more. I am working part time and feeling less exhausted from work. I even thought that I would like to ride my bike. I have been afraid of biking since I am taking medicine to thin my blood.

My illness has invoked a bit of contemplation in me. Not at first but more recently. One thing I am grateful for is that I have not felt much like a victim. I think about how lucky I was that it happened when it did and where it did so I could get the quick and competent medical help I needed to survive. I was lucky that Tim was around, that he was cool headed and called 911. I am grateful that this event left me with a feeling a gratitude and being blessed.

However, I can't help but to wonder why this happened and if it was a message to me in some way. Yes, I am a believer in messages. Although, whether they originate from God, the Universe, or one's own soul, I am not sure. I do believe they should be listened to. So what message was sent to me? Why my heart?