Fear, Resistance, Distractions, Oh NO!


This is reblogged from my art website at http://www.sfago.com

Sharon Abbott-Furze www.sfago.com

Sharon Abbott-Furze
http://www.sfago.com

I know about resistance…exercise for starters.  For health reasons, me, who avoided walking like the plague, was told it was the best exercise for my medical situation so I plunged into it.  I like purposeful exercise – a game of racquetball, golf, rowing a boat… but walking was what worked so…since I am also determined, I put my earphones on, clicked on one of my  audiobooks and started walking.  My life and health were at stake.  In no time at all, I overcame resistance and now, a couple of years later, I really  look forward to a long walk – an hour or so – and miss it when I don’t manage my time. I never would have believed it.  Resistance was powerful for the first couple of weeks tho.

Apply this discipline to my art – to finishing a painting.  I have seven that are in various stages of “getting there”, most about an hour from completion and have been waiting patiently for almost 2 years.   They need final little touches, one or two minor things that bother me.  I set them aside and go on to a new one.  It’s a definite pattern of mine – and a big old struggle.

I needed to travel earlier this week and was on the road for about 6 hours each way.  I really enjoy the time to myself, and part of that enjoyment is listening to my favorite audiobooks.  On this trip, I decided on “War of Art” by Steven Pressfield. I haven’t listened to it in several months – and I need it right now.  I’d recommend it to anyone – you don’t need to be an artist.  Resistance rears it’s ugly head in many parts of my life and in many forms.  Maybe yours too?

As I listened to it – on the way “there” and again on the way home, I heard things I hadn’t heard when I had listened to it a few months earlier.  About fear.  About not knowing what to do so not doing anything at all.  About all of the distractions caused by “resistance”.  The message hit home.   I’ve spent days, months and years avoiding my art on the premise that I didn’t know where to start, what to do next, or just plain felt blocked.   Distractions?  Yes, I have experience in that department as well!  I can spend hours reading blogs about art, being “inspired” by other artists on Facebook, and yes, even writing my blog, among many other things.  I’ve told myself many times that I didn’t have a long enough block of time to bother getting started… that I had cleaning to do…someone would call and invite me to go shopping, get a pedicure…blah blah blah…you know the story.

I am a professional artist.  I love painting.  It’s good for my soul.  It’s my prayer, my relaxation, my expression of love.  It’s what I need to do. I would definitely do it no matter what.  If I were the last person on earth…yes…I’d still be painting.  I can’t help myself.  If I don’t paint on my canvas, I’m painting in my mind.  I get in bed and can’t quit painting so many times have gotten back up to paint for just a half hour more.  Right.  Dawn arrives and I had no idea where the time went.

Progress.  Something clicked as I was listening to “War of Art”.  Somewhere inside, I “got it”.  I stepped to a new level of pushing through.   No matter how I “feel”, I say a prayer – 0ut loud, as Steven Pressfield does – step up to my easel, pick up my brush and it happens. I’m painting.   It really is that simple.  Not easy, but simple.  Woo Hoo.  So far so good!  I’ll try to remember this action and if I forget, I hope I remember to read this blog…

Thank you, Steven Pressfield for overcoming your resistance to finishing your book!

I’m doin the grateful dance….

The Sounds of Freedom


Our weeks in San Clemente  – our winter get-away from the Pacific Northwest rain – have again been the wonderful!  We’ve done all of our favorite things, eaten at our favorite restaurants, spent time on the beach, visited with friends and relatives.

Courtesy of Military.com

Tradition is that every year,  we ride through Camp Pendleton.  It’s an emotional experience for me.   We pass about 40-50 young soldiers in uniform and with huge backpacks, running.   Obviously they’re training for what is in their future.  I know they’ll be as well-trained as possible for what they will possibly encounter, but I wonder –  how can anyone ever be prepared…or comprehend?

I experience so many feelings that it’s almost impossible to identify all of them.

I feel pride – these young men and women are dedicated and committed.

I’m fearful.  For them.  I want to protect them.  They are so young and they have put their lives in the hands of total strangers who will rule their lives, their minds,  for this period of time in the Military.   They have agreed…no, committed themselves to a cause.   Did they think it over carefully?  Did they have good counsel?   I look at them and wonder what motivated them to sign the dotted line.  I wonder if they’re at peace with their decision.

We watched a program on TV last night about the Military, a documentary.  Statistics indicate that over 10,000 men and women in the Military have committed suicide!   This loss of life is higher than combat casualties at this point.  That is beyond tragic.   My heart aches for all of these young people who felt so trapped, unhappy, fearful….whatever their feelings of hopelessness…so intensely that they would end their life!  My heart aches for the mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, children, wives…all who loved them.

In the weeks that we’ve been here in San Clemente, three marines were killed in an auto accident a few miles away in Dana Point.  The fourth man is in critical condition.  Seven marines were killed in a mid air collision, some from the Camp.  Another marine was shot by the police in San Clemente.  That is under investigation.   There is sadness and a pall over many here.  These men and women are felt to be part of this community.

I feel excitement for the men and women who feel that this is their true calling…those who are happy with their decision…I’m happy for their adventure.  I’m happy if they’re fulfilled in some deep way.   And I know of some who feel that way.

Camp Pendleton is an enormous area.  Enormous!  It’s a city.   A busy city.   It includes 17 miles of coastline and extends inland for miles.  We are in San Clemente, across the street from the north boundary of the Camp.   The view across the road is beautiful, a panoramic view of hills, almost the size of mountains.  It appears to be just another beautiful view.  Until we hear, faintly and in the distance, revelry.  During the day – and at night – we  occasionally hear the whirring sound of helicopters on maneuver.  We hear planes.  And cannons.  Sometimes so loud that they can be felt.

When I notice those sounds – the sounds of freedom, and the sights, I feel compassion for those that are caught in the actual, the reality.  War.  I just hate it!  But I love these men and women.

I’m so grateful to them.  And grateful to all who love them.  I’m praying…

Let me be the change I want to see.  Let peace begin with me.

My Life, My Mortality… and My Loves


I got some sleep last night – Yay!  And today is brighter…

Writing my letter to Dr. Oz (thank you Sister – for suggesting that I do it) clarified my plight – to myself.  I’m so grateful for some clarity.  Now I have hope again – that I can deal with my fear and get my life back.    I was suddenly able to see the part that fear is playing in my health issues.

I recognize clearly that my fear is about death.  My death.  It’s also in some strange way about the people that I’ve lost in the last 5 years.  I realize that I’ve never grieved them.  I realized yesterday that thinking about them is so painful that I avoid even letting them into my mind.  When they slip into my thoughts, I keep it at a very superficial level – and quickly change my thoughts to something else.

One of my doctors told me that she thought that these losses were having a part in my health issues and that she feels I have some grieving to do.  I heard her say it, I listened, I went thru some motions of grieving but I didn’t really get the connection.  Now I do.

I’m thinking about them today with joy and tears.  I’m honoring them.  I’m missing them deeply.  I miss Dad and my three sisters at a whole new level.  I’m remembering what I loved about them.  I’m remembering fun, funny memories – one of the many times we sisters came from different directions and met for lunch and a few hours together.  Our human pyramid picture.  Our sisterhood reunions. Shucking corn for a dinner.  Posing for pictures together.   What I learned from each of them is such a part of who I am.

And my husband, Dale.  We had such a rocky marriage and a deep unshakable love.  Our friendship lasted thru a divorce until his death in 2007.  He loved me.  Completely.  I loved him in the same way.  We had a bond that neither of us knew how to break – or even wanted to.   It wasn’t a consideration.  I didn’t realize until after his death that he was the reason that I could never move on into a marriage with another man.  Neither of us remarried.  But we didn’t live together either.  We were there for each other – right up to the last phone call the last day of January,  hours before his assumed death.  He lived by himself and when he didn’t return several phone calls, I was alarmed.  When I didn’t hear from him on Valentines Day – a yearly gesture even after our divorce many years ago – I knew something was terribly wrong.  I called the police who entered his home and found that he had passed – they estimated about two weeks earlier.  I handled his estate per his wishes.  I’ve avoided thoughts that he’s gone – always.  Not today.  Occasionally I’ve started to go there and recoiled as quickly as if I had touched a red hot wood stove!  Today, I’m remembering him…so many things.   There were very painful and difficult times in our lives but in many ways he was such a rock for me.  I feel way too vulnerable without him in my world.  I miss him terribly.  So much love!

And Peter.  My love.  We were in each others’ lives for 7 years.   Wow could he dance!   He knew how to have fun.  He was an old school Hispanic man and was such a character!  My Latin Love….  He loved taking care of me – cleaned my home, cooked, pressed my clothes,  was a lot of the reason that I was able to be very successful in my business.  He took care of many things in my life that allowed me the time to focus.  And did I mention fun!  I’m remembering the Las Vegas evenings, all doors open to my outside living area.  He loved cooking in the outdoor kitchen – for everyone, palm trees swaying, warm evenings, music playing and  NO BUGS!!!  We drank wine.  We loved.  We laughed.   He was so incredibly handsome to me – his dark skin, hair –  and bold, warm eyes.  He was gallant and classy.  He sang songs to me in Spanish – all of the time.  He ended up battling major health issues for two years that led to his death.  With such courage.   He wrote love letters to me.  I haven’t read them for a very long time – much too painful.  But I’m going to re-read them as I can, starting today.  Yes, of course there were difficult times too.  But I grieved those at the time.  Today I’m grieving and missing the sweetness, the love, that man.  Towards the end of his life when he was on a respirator, he wrote “Sin Ti” on a piece of paper with x’s and o’s.   I still have it tucked in with his love letters.  He used to sing that song to me.   I miss you so much, Peter!  You made your mark in my life.   Thank you!

And my sisters.  I’m going to write about “The Sisterhood” in another post.  I miss them so much.  They were my three older sisters and my link to so much of my history.  I wish I could have thought of more questions about how they remembered our lives before they left.  There’s no one to answer those questions now.   I know that they each knew how important they were in my life – no regrets there.  I just miss them.   It’s almost impossible to comprehend that they’re so gone!   Today I’ll remember them…

I’ll remember them all.  With so much love and gratitude!  I had – and have – some very special people in my life – some great loves!

And maybe, if I grieve my loss of them, I won’t have to worry about losing myself?  If I honor their lives, I can live mine – fully – without fear?   If I accept and remember their lives – and deaths, will it help me accept my eventual great adventure?  Without fear?  Will it help me live my life without fear?  hmm…

Is the doctor right?

Amidst the grief, I have my joy back today!  I’m starting to let go

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Joy, Letting Go

Fear – How Do I Get It Out of My Life?!


Please PLEASE, Dr. OZ.  Help me!

I feel like I’m bordering on pathological fear and it seems to be getting a bigger hold on my life.  My physical symptoms are progressing and I want my life back.  How ever do I make this happen?

I’ve had test after test, including an angiogram.  Now my doctor wants me to have an MRI/MRA.  At this point, I think the basis of my physical ailments are fear about my health – and in some ways, for valid reasons.  I feel desperate – that I’m a time bomb in a race to find an answer before I have a stroke!

My blood pressure spikes are causing more consistent symptoms – the stinging pain in the top of my head, a droopy sensation at the temple corner of my left eye, and a stinging numbish sensation at the left corner of my mouth.  These areas  don’t look any different – but they feel very  different while my blood pressure is high.   They are new symptoms.  As is a periodic discomfort in my left eye.  I was checked by an ophthalmologist  at Devers Eye Clinic yesterday and he said my eyes are in excellent condition.  My eye feels slightly irritated and sometimes has a few seconds of feeling like it does when I have the flu.

My blood pressure normally runs great – 111-low 120’s/low 60s and on the low side in the night and mornings.   My pulse is usually in the low 50s (I don’t feel well when it’s in the low 50’s) to high 50s in the morning so I usually take my morning dose of Metoprolol 25 mg at 10:30-11 am rather than when I should be taking it at 9 a.  My blood pressure is usually in the mid to high 120’s  when I take my 9 pm dose.  When I try to go below this, I have a lot of palpitations/skipped beats.   My blood pressure has been up very high (190s-212/low 100s) at least 10 times this year – an unusual event for me.   The first few times happened in the night – woke me up.  No one has been able to figure a cause other than sleep apnea.   My symptoms include those of sleep apnea I’m told –  and from what I’ve researched.  It’s so difficult to be who I am with so little sleep.  I have no problems for a period of time and just getting comfortable with my body’s behavior and then it happens again.    I manage my blood pressure spikes with meditation and Lisinopril if it doesn’t come down with deep breathing and relaxation visualization.  I’ve been seen several times in the ER, admitted 3 times, had an angiogram as well as 24 hour catecholamine and many other tests.  Everything has been normal.   I have great doctors and they have deduced that I have sleep apena which is causing the blood pressure spikes, severe lack of sleep and anxiety.

I had a sleep lab study but couldn’t sleep enough to get a good report but did show hypopnea.   My doctor then arranged for a home sleep study which I had.   He told me that it showed apnea, hypopnea and very low oxygen levels which he feels awaken me.   Last night I had a sleep lab titration study but again couldn’t sleep enough to get a good report.   From research and a visit with a person at the sleep lab, I was told that home studies are very inaccurate.  I was told by my technician at the sleep lab that I don’t have apnea at all that he could see.  My doctor will have my report on Friday and I’ll ask my questions from him and find out the news.  I was so excited to have the study, believing that it would resolve the blood pressure spikes issue and that I could eventually get over my distrust of my body – and my fear.

I am so stressed and exhausted with all of this and I think the stress is keeping me from sleeping.  It’s a vicious cycle.  That is where my fear comes in – I’m terrified that I’m bringing on the very thing I’m trying to avoid.  I try every thing I can – medication regimen, meditation, read Eckhart Tolle’s books, in fact listen to them when I’m walking.  And I have a glass of wine now and then…

I’m a very strong and healthy 71-year-old woman with a wonderful life otherwise.   I have many reasons to live including 2 brand new great-grandchildren.   I have walked 10,000+ steps (thanks to your encouragement) every day for sometime, have lost over 30 pounds, gotten off my Metformin and now manage my type 2 diabetes with diet and exercise.   I’m so grateful to you and your show!

I watched your show about sleep disorders and learned a lot.  I’ve had difficulties sleeping since I was a child.  In fact, my Dad has told me that I had a difficult time sleeping as a baby and small child – that he used to rock and walk me half the night.  I had never heard of genetic insomnia but I wonder if that describes my sleep problems.   I hope we hear about her treatment.   I’ve been taking occasional trazadone when I can’t sleep, anywhere from a quarter of a 50 mg tablet to the entire 50 mgs.   Sometimes it doesn’t work at all.   I definitely prefer natural treatments but am fearful about trying something else right now.  I’m normally awake at least every 2 hours each night and routinely get 3-5 hours of sleep each night,  rarely six, very rarely 7.  I’m so desperate that I can’t even tell you – for sleep, peace, no anxiety, no more fear – for getting my life back.

My fear is such a problem for me that it’s interfering with my life.  It’s embarrassing to admit that I’m so fearful but am deciding if I’m going to get help for it, I have to talk about it.  There must be others in my situations.  As soon as I receive reassurance – reading my normal labs and other reports, I feel all right for a bit and then the fear starts creeping in again.  I no longer trust my body! What if my blood pressure rises again and I have a stroke.   I dread night time so much – no words – what if I lie awake all night and imagine the worst – despite my best efforts.  The less sleep I have, the more my emotional defenses are down.    I’ve had 17 deaths of family and best friends in the last 18 years, 6 of those (my Dad, two sisters, brother-in-law, and besties) in the last 5-1/2 years.   I’m still reeling from those deaths and definitely feeling my mortality.  My fear is beginning to include my husband and family’s safety.  It feels like fear is  taking over my life.  It is.  I pray.  I talk to my sisters and husband.  I journal.  I research.  I exercise the power of believing…

Have I missed one of your shows that dealt with fear?   Please schedule or replay?

Thanks!

Religion (Spiritual to me) and politics….


I know, touchy subjects I suppose. But this is my journal and I’m looking for answers.  Comments are welcome!

I’ve struggled with getting to sleep for years.  And struggle is an understatement in the last year.   My health has always been pretty good, however, a struggle this year.  I’m told by the guys with the stethoscopes that the only thing that they can deduce from my symptoms and experiences is a sleep disorder that is affecting my blood pressure and  these scarey symptoms are all part of it.  A lady doctor told me she thought my problems were about not grieving recent deaths.  Hmmm.   I sleep well about every other night when I’m exhausted from very little (and I mean very little!) sleep the prior night.

This leads me to my latest episode last night.   Yesterday was my “good” day, awesome, felt like myself, had fun.  My day was a great one actually.  Then in the late afternoon it hit.  My blood pressure took a hike – upward.  Way high again.  All of my ugly symptoms alerted me to what my blood pressure was doing.   I had taken my highest recommended dose of meds by late evening and they were not doing their job.  I continued meditating and doing the best blood pressure lowering breathing that I could muster.   It wasn’t helping.  In fact, my BP was going higher!   By 2 am, I was exhausted, considering yet another trip to the ER, trying very hard to visualize good things but ending up right back in my scariest thoughts.   I was, to say the least, desperate.  I had moved into sheer terror and fear.  And that was not helping my blood pressure – at all!  That’s when I suddenly got help.  I don’t say this easily or carelessly.  But it was nothing short of a miracle.   If you had been there you’d understand.

OK, this is the God part.

I think there are a lot of  different names for God if we believe in a higher power – I call mine God.  My belief is that there is no doubt – God exists.  In fact, I don’t even consider it a belief – it’s who I am.  Me and God.  I don’t talk about it much at all but it’s always there.  I don’t go to church, at least at this point, but I talk to him regularly.  My Dad was a preacher.  Yes, I’m a PK (preacher’s kid).  I enjoy good conversations about spiritual things with a few people but I rarely talk about being a PK to most people.  They expect me to know verses and have answers.  Uh…Not!  I’m not proud to say that I did more note-passing and day-dreaming in church than listening.   Not to say I didn’t have my spiritual experiences as a young person – a few funny stories about some of those.

Over the years, I’ve tried many times to read the bible but it’s totally confusing to me – I have a very difficult time understanding and applying what I read.   Those who can and do, amaze me!   I have read other easy-to-understand translations.  They’re interesting but even if they’re inspired, I question words.  They can be interpreted many ways – depending on many things – human perceptions and motives.  I would like to have a bible written by God – not translated by humans who may or may not have agendas.  I have my favorite verses but I rely mainly on my very personal communication with God.  Thus the spiritual and not religious comment.

I have huge questions of my own.  (I’ll be writing about those and comments from anyone who happens on to my questions will be welcomed!)  Most of the time I don’t want to think about my questions.  Not saying that’s smart, but it makes things simpler for me right now.  I’ve spent so much time in my life trying to figure things out.  Having faith, “just accepting” and believing are not my strong suits.  I’m working on that…in a lot of areas.  Balance Grasshopper….

Well, last night – in the night – in my desperation, I was talking to my Dad – in my thoughts.   I was missing him terribly.  Right up until his death, I could call him from wherever I was and he’d say a prayer.  It almost always – 99% of the time – helped me.   He’d invariably ask God to “renew my mind and my spirit”.  And God did.    It seemed that My Dad had a real connection.  My sister seems to have that connection… but it was 2 am!  Not a good time for a phone call.

Anyway, that’s when it happened.  It wasn’t my Dad but I felt sudden relief.  I felt God.   I haven’t experienced this – to this degree – except for one other time years ago when my best girlfriend was killed by a drunk driver.  I was deep in grief over my loss and suddenly felt the comfort of God. No other way to say it.  I had grown up hearing about “The Great Comforter” and that spirit was very real for those moments.  And it relieved my angst.  I don’t know how to explain the experience so I won’t try.  It wouldn’t work and would sound woo-woo.   But it happened.   It happened again in the night.  It was a complete surprise.  I sure can’t say that I used the power of believing –  “believed” it was going to happen and then brought it on myself.  But I’ll gratefully take it!!  It was quite the opposite.  I was in a “fear spin” and far from being able to be positive – even with my best effort.   I was shocked.  Very peaceful – immediate and sudden –  And very, very grateful.  That Great Comforter again – I recognized it immediately.  In my head I was singing “He Touched Me” (Gaithers).

I finally went to sleep!

I’ll work on the Politics part another time

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The Power of Believing

Does My Life Make a Difference?


I grew up with my Dad telling me to live my life as an example…that someone is using each of us as a role model…there is always someone who is watching to see how we handle situations and life – especially the difficult times.

I’ve witnessed 17 deaths of family members and most of my best friends over the last 19 years.  The youngest was a three year old niece.  Sometimes my grief has been overwhelming and I’ve not been sure which death(s) I was grieving.    My doctor told me  at one time that she thought I needed to grieve and it would help a health problem.  I’m not sure I know how to grieve.  Is there a proper way to grieve?  I don’t know.  I’ve read books, listened to Oprah shows, listened to friends, observed …

Last month we lost a 46-year-old niece to ovarian cancer.   There was an obvious transition from her “fighting” to “acceptance”.  Up until she was placed in hospice care, she was grieving her loss.  She wanted so much to see her two teenage sons graduate from high school, share their college experience, see them married and hold her grandchildren.  Her fight kept her going.

Then she told her parents, shortly before her death, that she was ready to leave;  that, knowing how much sadness her leaving would bring to others,  she almost felt guilty about her excitement over the adventure ahead of her.   She was very sad to leave her two teenage sons, her husband, her family and friends, but that she was ready and excited to leave.   It gave all of us a lot of peace, but how can that be.  Truly?

I am so fearful of dying that it’s very difficult for me to comprehend all that she said she was feeling.  I have enough gray hairs to know that God gives us grace to face…when we need it, when we’re actually confronted with challenges and passages.  Jennifer was a recent example.

She was involved.   There were over 700 people at her “celebration”.  She wasn’t a celebrity but she had lived life.   She was involved.  She made a huge difference in many lives.   She was very active in her church, children and recovery ministries, her children’s schools, 12 Step Programs.  If you had known her, you would understand….

On our way home from her celebration  in California, I was again trying to make sense of death…her death…all of the deaths.  Why do we live?  Why do we die?  How do I make sense of this? How do I accept it?

I do know that with each death and loss, I feel a new resolve to live life more fully.   I feel my own mortality and feel even more determination to make a difference in some way.   Peace came when I realized that one reason that we live our lives is to teach others.  By how we live our lives.

At Jennifer’s service, I repeatedly heard from those who spoke, that she “showed up” – no matter what!  She was there, whether or not she felt like it.  If she had made a commitment or knew she could help, she “showed up”.   She loved to sing.  Really loved to sing.  She knew how to be a good friend.  She had a wonderful laugh – and laughed a lot.    She was full of fun and joy – even when she had reason not to be, especially during her illness.  She was courage personified.  I want to be known that way.  I’m paying closer attention….

Each person has made a very real difference in my life.    And I’m so grateful for them all.   I started thinking about those I’ve lost and what I’ve learned from each….

To hug my loves when I’m leaving.  Really connect and tell them I love them.     No matter the mood….  I was fortunate to have had that from my husband.  He was much better at it than I.  But I remember that lesson every day.

My brother-in-law was a constant support and father/brother substitute for those who needed him.  He was an artist and couldn’t help himself…he had to create.  He did it as an expression of himself, didn’t do it for anyone else.  I can learn from him…

My friends, Eloise and Marcia, were loyal, fun, excellent Moms, and taught me so much about being friends.  They still have a profound influence on my life…I’m so grateful for their lives that were much to short.  They made such a difference in my life.  I still miss them.  A lot!

My sister was very outgoing and social, maintained long close friendships over her lifetime.  She had a great sense of humor, loved to entertain, made everyone feel welcome.   She taught me to hug.

Another sister was our family historian – to the max.  She saved pictures, documents, stories, provided our family with a priceless record of our  ancestry.

Another sister was a school teacher.  She and her family lived many places during her life – Greece, Tehran, Sumatra, and other places. She was intelligent,  a teacher in all aspects of her being.  She was an amazing cook, fun and creative.  I saw her very little but she gave me some invaluable advice and encouragement during her life.  She was adventure and excitement.

My Mom was a little dynamo.  She lived a pretty unconventional life, was very creative and could get tickled over little things, especially about herself.   She was good at choosing to see something beautiful in everyone.  She was a spiritual influence in many peoples’ lives.

My Dad was a prayer warrior.  His faith and example was a huge influence to almost everyone he met and he made a solid  difference in many lives.  He was a teacher and minister.  Quietly consistent.  Corny too.

So many others, so many wonderful others.  Some were in my life from childhood and they are truly part of me.

So what difference will I make in someone’s lives?  How do I matter in this world and to my closest?   I try to do meaningful things with my days, be courageous and accepting, interested and interesting, fun to be with, have hilarious moments.  Enjoy, share, appreciate.  Do some act of kindness at least once each day.  I’m working on being “present”.  Putting my phone down and connecting in person when I’m with someone.  Listening.  Responding.  I will remember to let everyone know how much I love them by lighting up when I see them.   No matter my mood.

Dad was right…all of these people have been examples in my life.  Sometimes they’ve taught me what I don’t want to be.  I hardly remember that part.  I remember deep love, laughing til we hurt, sharing plays, concerts, love of life, courage, we were there for each other during painful times and for celebrations.

I am and will make a difference.  I’m living my life…. I’m here so I matter.   We all do.

Living Fearlessly? But What About My Fear of Death? It’s Stealing My Joy!


My goal is to live fearlessly but I’m traveling backwards on this one.

I’ve been battling pretty severe hypertension issues this year, volatile and very worrisome.  I’ve been to the hospital seven times now, admitted three, a myriad of tests complete and thankfully finding noting life-threatening.  Stroke and heart attack threatening episodes – yes!  Without going thru details of these episodes, I’m consistently told to come to the ER at my hospital when they occur.

I’m letting my blood pressure terrorize me.  I determine to feel joy in my life but instead, feel fear, dread and anxiety.  How many times can my brain and heart remain undamaged – at the very least – with these assaults on them?   I’m now back in my place of wondering when it will happen again.   I had four months in the early part of the year when my blood pressure was unpredictable and uncontrolled.  When I checked my blood pressure – as told to do before I take my medication – one time it was too low to take my med, and a few days later, it’s 218/112 again!

OK.  If this is a lesson – as I believe it is, I’m open and ready to learn.  I’ve discovered life-changing messages during these months.  With the last revelation – No words can never express…but thank you!  I felt so changed that I had expected never ever to have hypertensive issues again.   That was peace and bliss!

I had no events until four days ago when I was right back to the old numbers.  I had some new symptoms with the elevation and was encouraged by my paramedic grandson to make yet another trip to the ER.  And so I did.    I chose not to have the suggested (by my grandson and offered by the ER doctor) CT scan of my head.  The doctor, a long time and very well respected man – although yes, just a man – told my husband and I several times that from his exam and other tests, that he was 99.9% sure that he’d find nothing on CT.  I was comfortable with waiting – and still am.  I was given some signs to watch for and report immediately should they appear.

My anxiety is back.  Full force.  I’m angry and trying very hard to accept what is happening again and decide that today will be full of joy rather than fear and anxiety.  I have many, many things to be joyful about.  One is that I’m healthy.  Uh…. and why am I feeling this angst and fear?

I walk 10,000 steps almost every day – per Dr. Oz.  While I’m working on my physical health with each step, I’m listening to Eckhart Tolle’s, The New Earth, and Practicing the Now – for my emotional, physical and spiritual well-being.  How many times have I listened…..and each time hearing something different, learning something new.  His books have changed my life.

But there is that nagging, energy-tapping fear! When I get in touch and “feel” and “hear” what I’m telling myself, it’s about the fear of dying.   I love life and want to live it out loud, want to “slide” into my death, without pain and on my feet.  Yes, I believe that’s possible.  I am dismayed that I’m letting fear swallow up my days – whining about fear of dying.

I used to be in denial about my death.  I’ve always known that along with everyone else who lives, I’ll die.  I’ve nonchalantly said those words.  Adding that I didn’t like the thought of it, would probably be hanging on with fingertips, wanting to do or say “just one more thing”, but that I “just didn’t want to be in pain or fear”.  Ha!  Right!  But it was off in the future then.  Except for very rare times, it was not in my thoughts.  I was very sure that there was something that I could eat, a vitamin that I could take, a thought that I could think…..whatever.   “Something” would be there by the time that I needed it.   It just was not a reality to me.  I call it denial but it was more of something that would happen someday in the distant future.  So distant as to not bother myself with thoughts of it.  I loved that place.  I so want it back….

Well now I’m in my 70’s, exceptionally healthy except that I have severe insomnia and am told it is probably the culprit.  Studies are showing how it is related to hypertension.  That is only part of my issue.  Maybe this lesson is about death, another lesson about acceptance.  I’ve discovered that my terror is death.  I want to stay here.  I don’t want to leave.  I have family and friends that I love and can’t bear the thought of leaving.  But even more than that, I’m finding, is the fear of the unknown.  Aaaarrrrghh!

I have a deep faith in God, I have a theory of death that is personal and acceptable to me.  In theory.   If I truly believed it with my whole being, I suppose I’d have no fear.   But obviously I’m not there yet.  I’m working on it.   Acceptance.  Trust.  I know I need to let go and live my life.  I feel that I’m wasting my precious days with this fear.   I’m miserable with anxiety and fear.   Today.   Tomorrow will be better.  I’m going to use Scarlet’s line.  I’ll think about it tomorrow.

to be continued….