[Queen] of Pain (with apologies to The Police)

In an attempt to clear my head, as well as my heart:

I did start this grief journey on Facebook but, after two or three posts, I just felt it wasn't the right place so, knowing my tendency (and in this case, *need*) to spew-and-send, I rolled everything over to my blog, where I've continued and have no plan to stop anytime soon.  This medium has always been my journal, not caring whether I had readers or not.  My Monkey Mind just had to release steam.  Facebook started to feel too in-your-face for such a tragic litany.

It's been wrenching for me to go into such detail about Eric's death and how it was affecting me and our family, but I couldn't *not*, if that makes sense.  I was processing it.  I had never done this before.  I was attempting to navigate through uncharted waters.  Writing is not only what I do; it's who I am.

What I was sharing with friends and family these last three weeks was the tip of the iceberg.  I'd been keeping everyone at arm's length, actually much more than that.  I wasn't answering phone calls, texts, door knocks.  I wasn't ready to "people".  I said in one blog post that we all grieve differently, and my reflex was Snappishness.  It was also Solitude.  And amidst both of those, I was crying uncontrollably, big heaving snotty sobs (which I've cycled back to). 

It is real.  It's real.  It's f*cking real.

And I know everyone has been trying to stay in touch, and to console me... and I have learned through this process there are different ways to do that too (you can bet there will be a blog post about that).  Unless you've lost a child, (generic)you have absolutely no idea what I was going through, when I was basically skinning myself and nailing it to the wall for all to see, trying to understand it all for *me*.

And life just kept going on, and I get that (obla-di, obla-da) but, in the grand scheme of things, I couldn't be sidetracked by other people's problems because, in a battle of whose life is harder, it's always the person with the dead child, you know?  I will "win" every time.  Full stop.  Period.  Mic drop.  And I would have given anything *not* to win.  

There were condolences, of course... but there was also much "there but for the grace of god", like we were contagious or something.  "Better you than me".  And we never thought it would happen to us.  We're not those people.  We've always been so lucky, so charmed, so blessed.  And all that came to a screeching halt.  I will now forever be the woman who lost a child.  My youngest is dead.  I don't know how to come back from that.  Even worse, now I have to figure out the day-to-dayness of it all.  

Some people's Love Language is Food/Cooking (Nancy)... and some is Gardening (Linda)... and some is Touch (Robert's)... and mine is Words... and I'm just going to keep cranking them out, because every day is an AFGO (Another F*cking Growth Opportunity) and, although I don't want to do this, I have no choice but to keep doing this... in between weeping, checking out, throwing up, zoning out, building walls, allowing fragility, bursts of anger, etc. (so much anger now!).  

I love my friends and family so much.  I need you all right now.  I will take off my blinders at some point and resume caring about what's going on around me but, for now, I am a sorrowful, selfish woman who just wants her son back, and that's never going to happen.  I remain bereft.

More later.  I have run out of steam.  Whew, right?

P.S.  I tried to go to Mindful Meditation today (a free class offered by Hollybrook every Thursday afternoon from 2-3), but there was no one in the room... so I came home and breathed (although it's only been shallow, not deep, breaths for the last 3+ weeks).  I couldn't make myself go out walking, so I stretched instead.  Lots crossed off the To Do List though.  I had a Zoom meeting with my True North Project peeps (hard).  And I rescheduled my ophthalmologist appointment (from tomorrow to early-November) because I've been crying so much I didn't feel they could get an accurate reading of my eyes. 

Earlier today, Chico said to me:  "I am resigned to his death.  I'm just having a hard time facing his absence."  Whew.  Gut Punch.

SONG:  [Queen] of Pain (with apologies to The Police)

BOOK:  Reflecting on Grief and Moving Beyond Pain: Living with Loss and Discovering New Meaning by Sara Thurman

POEM(S):  What Can We Give? by Beth Weaver-Kreider

What can we give besides our prayers and rage?

And what will that avail?

Send out the story on October winds.

Fling it high, where crows are flying.

Send the message echoing into earth

with every pounding step you take.

Listen.

Let the shells of your ears gather the story.

Reel in the gossamer strands of the tale

and weave them into the veil you wear.

Listen for the stories of those who weep,

those who rage, those who only speak

with the shrug of a shoulder,

with a sigh, with a shudder.

Listen, too, to those who walk right in,

who step into your circle without invitation.

Listen to the voices that are hard to hear.

Offer only the bread that is yours to give.

Be like the old gods, with the raven Wisdom

on one shoulder and Memory on the other,

and Reason perched upon your hat.

Offer what is yours:

your rage,

your prayer,

your watchful quiet heart. 

Pity me not because the light of day by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Pity me not because the light of day

At close of day no longer walks the sky;

Pity me not for beauties passed away

From field and thicket as the year goes by;

Pity me not the waning of the moon,

Nor that the ebbing tide goes out to sea,

Nor that a man’s desire is hushed so soon,

And you no longer look with love on me.

This have I known always: Love is no more

Than the wide blossom which the wind assails,

Than the great tide that treads the shifting shore,

Strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales:

Pity me that the heart is slow to learn

What the swift mind beholds at every turn.

QUOTE:  "My mom taught us to never look away from people’s pain. The lesson was simple: Don’t look away. Don’t pretend not to see hurt. Look people in the eye. Even when their pain is overwhelming. And when you’re in pain, find the people who can look you in the eye. We need to know we’re not alone – especially when we’re hurting. This lesson is one of the greatest gifts of my life." ~ Brene Brown

"True healing is an unglamorous process of living into the long lengths of pain.  Forging forward in the darkness.  Holding the tension between hoping to get well and the acceptance of what is happening.  Tendering a devotion to the impossible task of recovery, while being willing to live with the permanence of a wound; befriending it with an earnest tenacity to meet it where it lives without pushing our agenda upon it.  But here's the paradox: you must accept what is happening while also keeping the heart pulsing towards your becoming, however slow and whispering it may be." ~ Toko-pa Turner

Back in the High Life Again (Steve Winwood)

Sciatica, which is also known as sciatic neuralgia, is a condition that causes pain in the low back, down the back of the leg and into the foot. It can make sitting and standing for long periods of time difficult and can lead to weakness, tingling and numbness in the leg and foot. It will often come and go throughout a person's lifetime, causing periods of varying degrees of pain and discomfort. If left unchecked, sciatic pain will generally grow worse and the nerve can become permanently injured.

The reason why the pain travels so far, seems to radiate up and down the legs, and back is because it is caused by the compression of the sciatic nerve, the longest nerve in the body. This nerve originates in the lumbar spine extends into the buttocks before traveling down the leg to the ankle and foot. When the vertebrae in the low back are compressed, the roots of the sciatic nerve can become pinched and irritated, which is what causes the pain and injury.


Most of you know that, after a two-year hiatus, my sciatica resurfaced in January 2020, and I was actually managing it very well.  Even when the pandemic hit in mid-March 2020, I was walking, stretching, and doing yoga.  Of course, at that time, we all (or at least I) thought we were in for just a few months of self-isolation/inconvenience... and here we are, five months later, with no sign of re-normalizing in sight... of our social calendars, much less our daily lives.  I confess to having lapsed with many of my self-care routines and my daughter Sarah, being a pro-active organizer and tired of watching me attempt to curb my moaning and limping and grimacing (oh, my!), called me on Monday and told me that I had an appointment with a chiropractor on Tuesday afternoon.  

I am sighing in contentment now, finally turning my sciatica issue over to professionals.  After my chiropractor visit yesterday afternoon - thermal imaging (my spinal column was completely green/normal, without a hit of yellow, orange, or red/severe, no deterioration or degeneration!); X-rays (slight misalignment); some stretching; some manipulation with instruments; an adjustment of my back and neck; and some laser therapy - I almost called an Uber to drive me home.  I was that relaxed!  Of course, many hours later, I felt pretty beat up, so I did some stretches, drew a very hot bath with liberal amounts of Epsom salts, used the massager my sons gave me for my birthday, slathered on some CBD salve, and then divebombed into bed. 

Today I had a massage for the first time since February (I cancelled my mid-March session) with my healing hands guru Karen (amazing!), and I am considering all this a re-set.  I am tired of living with pain.  I can see it in my eyes when I look in the mirror.  Then don't look in the mirror, Susan... right?

I go back to the chiropractor tomorrow morning for a more comprehensive review of my scans and X-rays, at which point we will develop a plan for future treatment (or not).  Either way, I am vowing to stretch every two hours on a daily basis, and alternate yoga with walking, even leisurely.  Life's too short to experience intermittent electric shocks down the back of one's legs... 😌

P.S.  I just opened a new container of HOPE hummus, and the inner seal said, "Self-Care Ain't Selfish".  Synchronicity!

NR:  This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar, Max Gladstone


SONG:  Back in the High Life Again by Steve Winwood

BOOK:  Sciatica Exercises & Home Treatment: Simple, Effective Care For Sciatica and Piriformis Syndrome by Dr. George F. Best D.C.

POEM:  Sciatica by Cliff Burns

You can never call Pain friend.
It is quarrelsome, insistent,
practically inescapable
like a boorish relative one must
endure at weddings
and family functions
or a childhood pal,
now out-grown,
who always overstays their welcome.

QUOTE:  "Fall down seven, stand up eight." ~ Japanese Proverb

Hope (Natasha Bedingfield)

You may recall my saga of The Case of the Misdirected Barnes & Noble delivery, whereupon my pre-order of Glennon Doyle's Untamed (way back in October 2019) was sent to my old house last month (I take responsibility in that I did not change the shipping address) and, through a series of human errors, was eventually sent back to the B&N warehouse.

I spent a good bit of time yesterday on hold with B&N who, when I finally got through, not only agreed to send me a replacement copy (signed, which I had ordered!), but did it through Expedited Delivery, meaning it is scheduled to arrive Monday.  I told the Customer Service representative, appropriately named Hope, that I realized this was a First World Problem, and was extremely grateful for how promptly and kindly the situation was handled...  :-)

In the meantime, my friend Michele sent me her copy, which I am now reading (and loving!), and will give to Sarah tomorrow when I see her... and will let Nancy borrow the new copy next week.

All this to say, I am about halfway through, and already weeping like a baby.  Had to share this brutiful (TM Glennon) passage:


“I can use pain to become. I am here to keep becoming truer, more beautiful versions of myself again and again forever.

To be alive is be in a perpetual state of revolution. Whether I like it or not, pain is the fuel of revolution. Everything I need to become the woman I’m meant to be next, is inside my feelings of now.

Life is alchemy and emotions are the fire that turns me to gold. I will continue to become only if I resist extinguishing myself a million times a day. If I can sit in the fire of my own feelings, I will keep becoming…

Numbness keeps us from becoming.

This is why every great spiritual teacher tells us the same story about humanity and pain: ‘Don’t avoid it. You need it to evolve to become. And you are here to become.’

Like Buddha who had to leave his life of comfort to experience all kinds of human suffering before finding enlightenment. Like Moses who wandered 40 years in the desert before seeing the promised land. Like Westley from The Princess Bride who said, ‘Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.’ Like Jesus who walked straight toward his own crucifixion.

First the pain, then the waiting, then the rising. All of our suffering comes when we try to get to our resurrection without allowing ourselves to be crucified first.

There is no glory except straight through your story.

Pain is not tragic. Pain is magic. Suffering is tragic. Suffering is what happens when we avoid pain and consequently miss our becoming. That is what I can and must avoid. Missing my own evolution because I am too afraid to surrender to the process. Having such little faith in myself that I numb or hide or consume my way out of my fiery feelings again and again.

So, my goal is to stop abandoning myself and stay. To trust that I’m strong enough to handle the pain that is necessary to the process of becoming. Because what scares me a hell of a lot more than pain is living my entire life and missing my becoming. What scares me more than feeling it all, is missing it all.”

~ Glennon Doyle, Untamed



SONG:  Hope by Natasha Bedingfield

BOOK:  Beyond Words: Daily Readings in the ABC's of Faith by Frederick Buechner

POEM:  The Celtic Prayer of Approach

I honor your gods,
I drink at your well,
I bring an undefended heart to our meeting place.
I have no cherished outcomes,
I will not negotiate by withholding, and
I am not subject to disappointment.

QUOTE(S):  “Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid.” ~ Frederick Buechner

“And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good.” ~ John Steinbeck

"Do the best you can until you know better.  Then when you know better, do better." ~ Maya Angelou

Everybody Hurts (R.E.M.)

From Rob Brezsny's Astrology Newsletter
January 8, 2020:

"Play the game called "Tell me the story of your scars." It's best to do it with a skilled empath who is curious about your fate's riddles and skilled at helping you find redemption in your wounds.

"How did you get that blotch on your knee?" he or she might begin, and you describe the time in childhood when you fell on the sidewalk. Then maybe he or she would say, "Why do you always look so sad when you hear that song?"

And you'd narrate the tale of how it was playing when an old lover broke your heart. The questions and answers continue until you unveil the history of your hurts, both physical and psychic. Treat yourself to this game soon."


When I read this, I immediately thought of the scene in Jaws, as they regale each other, in a one-upmanship style, with show-and-tells of their scars.

Blogs are created safe spaces to share our pain, internal and external, as well as our pleasures.  All this to say that my sciatica has come back (two years after its first appearance in December 2017), and it is entirely my fault.  Not enough activity, too much sitting, lots of picking up of my 25-pound, 18-month-old grandson.  Retirement has its perks and drawbacks.

The last few weeks have found me in agony.  Mornings are always the worst, and I've been trying to focus on stretching before I get too far out of bed.  Shooting pains (electric shocks?) down the back of my legs are almost unbearable, but I know I can turn this around.  Had a massage last week with Karen, who should be canonized for her healing touch.  More stretching, more walking, a return to yoga, maybe even a few visits to the chiropractor (tomorrow?).

Knock on wood, I have been very lucky to have no/limited health problems, when I am surrounded by so many who have debilitating issues or illnesses. Tonight I will pop an Aleve, descend into a coma-like sleep, and awake tomorrow with a renewed desire to beat this, and come back stronger than before.


SONG:  Everybody Hurts by R.E.M.

BOOK:  Why We Hurt: The Natural History of Pain Hardcover by Frank T. Vertosick Jr.

POEM:  Praise the Rain by Joy Harjo

Praise the rain; the seagull dive
The curl of plant, the raven talk—
Praise the hurt, the house slack
The stand of trees, the dignity—
Praise the dark, the moon cradle
The sky fall, the bear sleep—
Praise the mist, the warrior name
The earth eclipse, the fired leap—
Praise the backwards, upward sky
The baby cry, the spirit food—
Praise canoe, the fish rush
The hole for frog, the upside-down—
Praise the day, the cloud cup
The mind flat, forget it all—

Praise crazy. Praise sad.
Praise the path on which we're led.
Praise the roads on earth and water.
Praise the eater and the eaten.
Praise beginnings; praise the end.
Praise the song and praise the singer.

Praise the rain; it brings more rain.
Praise the rain; it brings more rain.

QUOTE:  "Strength doesn't mean an absence of pain." ~ Aja Naomi King