The older I get, the more responsibilities I have, and the more stress I recognize coming into my life. The older I get, the more adept I become at recognizing my limitations and protecting myself from drama. The older I get, the more serious certain worries about my family members become. While I can accept these statements and usually "go with the flow" and manage, there are times when stress piles on, and it becomes too much.
What I have discovered most recently is that keeping normal routines is a big help. I found that running into other people who are doing "normal" things is a relief. While it's harder to make an effort and go to the gym, I know I need it even more. It's harder to get up and put on a smile and face the world, but the alternative is worse. It's harder to care about certain things, but I have to go through the motions at least, in order to keep going. The other thing I noticed is that during tough times is that I wish I could "walk off the stage "and enter another life. This is normal--an escape. This is self preservation. However, walking off is not possible in my role, but then I started remembering a favorite childhood memory.
My grandfather, Poppy, was the best grandfather I could ever imagine. He had enormous patience, and he loved me dearly. He would wake me up from naps and get me out of my crib. He would give me and my siblings little candies before dinner. I have a photo of him holding me when I was about 4 months old, in my bedroom. One time when I was about 4 or 5, I climbed up the kitchen counter and opened the corner cabinet where the orange baby aspirin were kept. They tasted like candy, and I remember eating a bunch of them. I don't remember what happened next, but I was taken to Nanny and Poppy's house. It was a summer day. I remember the warm sun shining, and it was very quiet at their small ranch house. I remember my grandparents staring at me, watching me. There were no dramatics. I didn't feel sick or vomit. I didn't get rushed to the emergency room. All I remember is the love and kindness all around me. My Poppy was a big gardener. He coaxed African violets to bloom under sunlamps in his basement. He walked around with a pen knife and got rid of dandelions the old fashioned way. He even picked beatles off his rose bushes with his fingers and put them in a small can of kerosene. In his early 70's, he had a heart attack in his beloved garden and died four days later at the hospital. I was eleven years old at the time. He's been gone most of my life, but the love he showed me grounded me then and grounds me still. Mining this memory is like a big hug from a great man who can still make me feel like things will be ok.
I share this story because when life is challenging, we need all the help we can get. Relief from pressure, even for a brief moment, can remind us that things are always shifting. We cannot suffer forever. We cannot live in a state of near-perfect bliss every moment either. What we can do is proceed with caution and kindness, doing normal things, with normal people who are doing the same thing.
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