Tuesday, March 27, 2018

Crossing the Rubicon

I really don't know how some surmount challenges more easily than others. I'm not that kind of person. At least I don't think I am. Others often tell me that I have surmounted many challenges in my life, that I'm tough, that I enjoy thinking through solutions to perceived barriers, that I like to solve puzzles.

I was feeling rather hopeless yesterday, all the more so because the weather was glorious and there were scads of people out around the lake that I overlook. A gorgeous spot with peeks at the ocean from the walkway around it. Sunlight sparkling on the water, the ducks doing that water-skiing thing, skimming over the water. Especially those dazzling males. Dear blog, I drove down to the parking lot nearest the doggie park and I sat and watched the dogs and I cried. Like a fool. I couldn't stop. Ansa and I had walked around that lake so many times and I'd bring her into the doggie park and she'd make a few ventures out to the other dogs, half-heartedly play-bow and then come back to me, content to sit and watch the other dogs. A Mummy's girl as other dog owners often commented, some quite enviously. The loss of her overwhelmed me for a while. I tried to bite it all down but that made it worse.

So today, I drove down there again, 11c (52F) out. Seriously, we've had this freakish warm winter, very little snow. And I took my stick and walked. And yes it hurt, it's supposed to, but I managed 1,500 steps. And I felt part of and not distant from all the activity around me. And there was so much: dogs, elders, babies, wheelchairs, everybody smiling and greeting and revelling in this glorious sunshine. And so very many dogs, one woman had 5, all beautifully trained. And I didn't cry once.

I still don't know what got me out there, to be part of this mobile human race, it was like, maybe being fanciful, the spirit of Ansa nudging me, pushing me. I was ready to give up on these legs. On myself. Overwhelmed doesn't quite capture it.

And Blog, it wasn't as bad as I thought. I stopped twice to give the legs a bit of a nap and then moved on. And I had the thought: I can increase this, not by much, not so I feel defeated and hopeless, but even an extra 50 steps a day?

Yeah, that's manageable.

How do you surmount perceived barriers or challenges?

18 comments:

  1. With great persistence and more tears than I can count. I wish I could take steps of any number without fear of falling or collapse or risking injury. When that day comes for you, rolling will do.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm so glad you posted this, I was so wrapped in my own bubble of almost-despair and unthinking of others who would trade places with me. My trust stick will suffice for now.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  2. Your question is making me think. Have I ever actually ☆had☆ a barrier or challenge? Of course I must've. So what did I do? Just tackled them I guess!
    Poor answer. More thinking required. -Kate

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. My first response is to ignore, evaluate, ignore and eventually tackle. I wish I were speedier, particularly now that I'm older with less life to fritter.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  3. How many times have I thought (and said) it'd be great if we lived round the corner from each other. We could go for 1,500+ step walks arm in arm; or, if it helps, I don't mind you putting me on a leash - I'll also catch ball and bark if you wish me to. It wouldn't replace Ansa but at least it might make you laugh. Oh, the conversations I imagine we'd have. Whether reading your blog posts (be they sad or full of hope and your customary enthusiasm), your comments on mine and elsewhere I always come away invigorated by liking you so much; feeling you are a kindred spirit, an independent, opinionated spirit; you stand by your convictions and argue them so very well; never unkind but always firm with a sprinkling of heartfelt warmth towards others.

    My dear WWW,I am so sorry to hear about the limitations your body imposes on you, maybe made even harder as your spirit soars. I will have to think about your question which may indicate that those curve balls life has thrown me so far amounted to little if anything in the long run. Having said that, right now I am in the middle of having one more chance to turn a vital corner, most likely the last one with far reaching consequences of my life. And I will- as midnight chimes. The only two hindrances standing in my way are myself and catching out Lady Luck when she isn't looking.

    Bear hug,
    U

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh Ursula how you contributed to the sense of well being of my day! I know we'd enjoy each others' company, stepping outside the norms of what passes for uncontroversial conversation.

      Your canine antics would surely amuse and lift me.

      I do hope this new corner brings a shaft of sunshine to your life.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  4. I don't. I don't have to any more. I simply do not accept any. I am blessed I guess to be able to live that way with my son and daughter in love who enable me to.

    And I am among those that have commented on your toughness and resilience. This too shall pass.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. A life without challenges? Well done Ramana, I don't know as to whether that appeals to me or not. As I think I'd equate it with boredom? I'm possibly wrong in that assumption. But I do like puzzle solving, be it a pattern or a trick paragraph.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  5. When I have had to face barriers and obstacles in life, first I despair of being able to do it. Then I complain about it, to anyone within earshot. Then I deal with it. Seems to take a lot of despair, sleeplessness and complaint for me to get on with it. At our local dog park I occasionally meet folks who have recently lost a dog companion. They come to remember, to be with others who understand the magnitude of the loss and to soak in all the dogness there. I am glad you are being dogged about your mobility, Ansa would be proud of you.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Annie I know I would wreck Hapi with hugs and kisses if I ran into you and her. She reminds me a lot of Ansa who had some husky in her and would roll in absolute joy in the snow.

      I am so glad I cherished Ansa all the more in the last year of her life. I was very conscious at her great age that it could end at any moment.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  6. Life is harder than I thought, I do know that.
    Instead of adding too many steps too soon , go at that pace for a few days , so as not to wear yourself out. Good for you for getting out amongst the living. If you don't try , you don't know. Take care.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Gemma, good advice, be content with the wee accomplishments and tiny hurdles leaped.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  7. "How do you surmount perceived barriers or challenges? "
    Me? I worry, worry, worry and obsess - then just do it. My mind, at the point of the actual action (whatever it is) seems to hit another wavelength. Very odd - and almost involuntary really.

    I'm glad you've begun walking with Ansa's spirit - she'd be so proud, WWW! Keeping at it, tiny progressions will pay off, both psychologically and physically, I feel certain. :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You're a beacon to me T, having surmounted on just yesterday yourself. I'm much the same as you, obsessing and worry and then the leap. Often unthinking.

      I had the lovely thought today that we are all stardust and one day mine will mix with Ansa's and blaze for a second or two.

      Fanciful?

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  8. Last year at this time I was planning my trip to St.Anthony to get my new hip. For over a year I'd have to say that I was in grim determination mode. There was nothing to do but take one step after another with stick or walker, and try not to succumb to the misery and fear. In my life I've had a goodly share of chronic pain - and I remember that it has always led, however circuitous the route, to a deeper appreciation of this precious life. Love you, dear woman, forge on!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. True dat, Jan. I recollect now, having read your journey to hipdom, that having brushed close to death in ER, surviving, barely, peritonitis, how resolved I had been to living life richly and fully in each moment from then on. That must be 25 years ago now.

      I lose track sometimes of life changing moments.

      I just finished reading Paul Kalamati's "When Life Becomes Air". A truly profound read about the importance of death to life.

      XO
      WWW

      Delete
  9. It's always good "to be part of this mobile human race," even if sometimes we don't want to. Is that your photo? It's nice.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. And whatever form that mobility takes, breathing, wheeling, flying, sailing.

      Aging is truly a gift, I must remember that even on so called dismal days :)

      XO
      WWW

      Delete

Comments are welcome.

Email me at wisewebwomanatgmaildotcom if you're having trouble.