Life's challenges bring growth

This morning when I opened Facebook the first thing that popped up was a memory from 4 years ago.  It was a picture of my middle child, oldest son, the summer after high school graduation.  I smiled as I looked at that sweet, happy 18 year old and thought about the journey our family has traveled since that picture was taken.

That day he had 3 living grandparents.  They were all living independently, driving, involved in various volunteer projects, going to church, meeting friends for lunch or dinner, going to plays.  We would need to call and be sure that they were going to be home if we wanted to come by to visit and if we invited them over, it was possible that they couldn't come because they already had plans.

As I write this post, only one grandparent is still here with us.  We never have to call to see if he's available because he lives in a memory care unit now.  He still has a smile that lights up his face when the kids come to visit but he needs to be awake and calm for us to see that.  It's a tough road to travel with a loved one and sadly, there are many families on similar roads.

But there are those who think that people shouldn't have to travel these types of journeys.  That there is no dignity in living like this.  From my perspective, I couldn't disagree more.  It's through times of challenge that we grow and become better.

A pianist doesn't improve by playing the same exact song, notes or chords.  The improvement comes through continually attempting more difficult pieces.  A pole vaulter doesn't reach new heights by staying with the same pole, exact same form or technique.

Isn't building character and ability the reason that we sign our kids up for piano, dance, swimming, karate?  Kids that participate in almost anything learn that just because you fail in the beginning, doesn't mean you will always fail.  Sometimes it all comes together and you get it.  But sometimes it never does all come together and you learn that isn't your activity.  And sometimes that hurts and that stinks but it's all part of life.  When we try and fail we learn and grow.  And when we have the opportunity to grow beyond our frustrations and failures, then we develop resilience.  And when we are resilient, we are stronger and better prepared for life.

The same is true when we are presented the opportunity to journey with a friend or family member who is suffering.  It's not pretty.  It can be sad or frustrating or scary. It could be a time of anger or frustration with God. Or it can be a time of growing closer to God and your loved one.  Our responses to the situation will be as numerous as the people in those situations.  And really way beyond that number because from day to day our individual responses can change.  And that's all OK because it's an exhausting, humbling, sometimes frightening journey.  Just like every other area of our lives, when we meet these challenges head on, we see growth.  A religious or spiritual person will likely find growth in the spiritual life when presented with the opportunity to accompany someone on this journey.  But I think anyone will find an increase in empathy and compassion.  These experiences can make you realize that being kind is a better option because you just never really know what someone else is going through. 

The Journey.... Getting the numbers

So I had my reality check and my motivation and had committed to my daughter to be her test subject for her exercise prescription class.  The thought of getting back into shape, really in shape was so exciting to me.   During the weeks between my first offer and when we were actually able to schedule my time in the lab, there were multiple conversations and my daughter was very clear about what was involved.

However, focusing on details isn't necessarily a strong point for me.  I see the big picture really well, I can visualize projects with the best of them but thinking through details is something I often gloss over while I'm making plans.  And as the date for my assessment approached, I realized that I had chosen to ignore a few details.  I am fairly certain that I chose to ignore these particular details because my "why?" for this project was so strong.  I wanted to be strong and independent for a very long time.  I didn't want to be a burden to my children.  Having a strong "why" is always important because it can get you through the parts of a journey that are uncomfortable or difficult and that was true for me in this situation.

To actually get myself into shape, I needed my daughter to do an exercise prescription for me.   In order for her to be able to determine the exercises that I would need to get started on this journey, I would need to undergo a complete physical assessment.   We found a date and time for that to happen.  I was committed and I told everyone, whether they wanted to know or not.  For the first time in decades I was looking forward to being in shape, not just losing weight, not just being able to run a 5K but actually being strong and fit and healthier than ever.

All this sounds good and it was.  But when I actually arrived and went with my daughter over to the lab, I could no longer ignore the reality of the situation.  In order to truly assess my fitness level there would be a weigh in, calibers, tape measures, and exercises and the lifting of weights and the results of everything would be recorded on paper.  UGH!!!! Measurements, weight, BMI are not things I EVER like to find out but to have my daughter find out and actually be the person to share this information with me was a very humbling thought.  And that is why I refused to think about it until it was actually happening.

The numbers-- BMI, weight, ratios-- were far worse than I had thought they would be and placed me at a relatively high risk for health issues.  When I had my latest blood work done for my annual physical, the results all came back in the normal or good range.  Now that I was getting these assessment results from this very professional and competent exercise science student I couldn't pretend anymore.  I had been dodging a bullet and I had to face the facts.  I was obese and weak and reached my max heart rate WAY too soon.  Looking at the results of the tests (some of which I couldn't even begin much less complete) and then thinking about my family health history, it was a very rude awakening.

If I didn't make changes and make them soon, I would be looking at a life filled with doctor appointments, prescriptions, tests, and constantly watching numbers.  Remaining independent would be a struggle and I would quickly become one of those very old 50 somethings who struggle to do every day activities. And I would have no one to blame but myself.  By turning a blind eye to my unhealthy habits and ignoring the things I could no longer do, I was essentially sentencing myself to a quality of life that would not allow me to live the dreams I have for my future.  If I had looked closely at what this assessment was going to entail and reveal to me, then I quite possibly would have chickened out.  I don't know if I would have been strong enough to go through with it.  Fortunately for me, I had committed to someone who means the world to me.  I had given myself no choice and for that I am truly grateful. Yes, the reality of both the assessment and my physical condition were very humbling and quite embarrassing. But by going through with it and getting these I have been given the gift of knowledge and truth and a way to change the course of my life. And for that I am very grateful.

The Journey Begins

The journey that I am referring to here is my journey to fitness.  Somehow, one day I woke up and was 52, overweight, and pathetically out of shape.  If I'm going to divulge the negatives, I will allow myself to brag a bit.  I do walk for an hour 5 mornings a week with my husband and our dog.  These are not strolls through the neighborhood:  there is sweat and the heart rate is increased.  I can still pick up the 55 pound bag of dog food from the pallet at Sam's Club, put in the cart and get it into the car by myself.    And I have not, as yet, had to go to any specific plus sized stores or departments.  My blood work has always come back in the good or OK range.  No prescriptions at this time. So for a while, it was easy to pretend I was doing OK.

If you have read this blog over time, you know that I've lost both my parents already.  Each of them had significant health issues.  Some issues just were the "luck of the draw" so to speak, while others were definitely the result of lifestyle decisions and perhaps a bit of denial.  I was blessed to spend a lot of time with my parents as their health declined.  One piece of insight from that time, is that you can only fool yourself and others for only so long about being in shape or being healthy.  At some point, the facade will start crumbling and the only thing left is the truth.

So even while I was happy with the results of the blood work, I knew I couldn't ignore the decrease in my strength and ability to do things I had always done.  I lettered in sports 5 times in high school and three times in college.  I hiked mountains in Europe.  Now it was almost embarrassing to admit that I had been an athlete.  I could not do a real, touch the floor genuflect in church without holding onto a pew, kneeling down and getting up while gardening took a bit too much effort, standing from the middle cushion of a deep couch took too much effort and had to be almost comical to watch while I pretended that I was handling it effortlessly.  And let's not talk about stairs, especially if I was carrying things. I couldn't pretend any longer.  I had to do something.

But what to do?  I knew enough to know that I didn't know enough to do it on my own. I had walked away from my job so there wasn't much (or any) disposable income sitting around for a gym and a good trainer.   That's where I was in my fitness journey one evening when my daughter called for a chat.  She is an athletic trainer and graduate assistant working toward her master's degree in exercise science.  Fortunately for me she is taking exercise prescription this semester and needed a volunteer for  a case study.  This was it!  I was so excited that I would have someone who actually knew what she was doing and could get me back to being able to do everything I wanted to.  I immediately volunteered to be the subject of her case study.

So that was step one.  A journey of a thousand miles, right?  I'm excited to say that we've taken the next couple steps and those posts will be coming in the near future.  Is it easy? NO!! Am I more than a little annoyed with myself for getting this weak and out of shape?  Absolutely!  But you know what?  I am pretty stinking proud of myself for admitting that I needed to make changes and acting on that.  What are you ignoring or pretending doesn't need to change?  Today could be the start of a thousand miles for you.

The Best Laid Plans

This post was written in July 2015 and somehow never managed to be posted.  So here it is almost 7 months later.

We've lived in our house for 16 years now.  It was the house and the neighborhood I dreamed of raising our family.  And our baby is now 17.  I have loved this house.  Enough space so that there was room for everyone but not so overwhelmingly large that it would feel too empty when the kids are off living their lives. We bought the house from the original owners.  They were in their 70's when they sold it to us and raised their family here.  Built in the late 1960's, the original owners had decorated with the times and obviously, took very good care of the house because the turquoise foil print wallpaper in the bathroom was still in great shape.  The olive green sculpted carpet in the living and dining rooms was still in decent shape.  The outside had obviously gotten to be too much for them because you couldn't see the front porch from the street at that time.  The paneling in the family room was nearly black it was so dark.  The price per square foot was amazingly low.  Most people don't buy ugly.  But then most people don't marry a Catholic school teacher, have babies one and two and resign to stay home with the kids and then have a definitely planned and prayed for third baby.  I am definitely not most people and tend to do things most people wouldn't do. So we bought ugly because it was big enough for the family to grow up in and in a neighborhood we really loved.

We have worked on the ugly a little bit at a time over the years.  The bushes out front were gone that first summer.  The foil wallpaper in two of the bathrooms was gone in the first few years.  The orange carpet in the bedroom was gone before we moved in.  But one huge project remained and that was our kitchen and dining room.  The flooring was different in the two room even though they are completely open to each other. The textured beige wallpaper was original.  The dark cabinets were ugly and because of the detail hard to keep clean.  Doing the kitchen was going to be a big project.  And I like to cook and having your kitchen torn apart can definitely hinder that.  My kids still sit and talk while I cook.  I love that.  So even though I hated the kitchen and knew it had to be done, I loved the space because it really was the heart of our home.

We knew we had put it off long enough.   All the kids could drive so the taxi service was not needed for the first time ever. My husband had put aside money to buy the supplies. His best friend, who has actually built entire houses,  was willing to help with the installation of the floor.  I was up for painting.  Everything.  Walls, ceiling, trim, cabinets.  There was one glitch we hadn't counted on.

My Dad. He had been seriously ill for several months this spring but was doing much better.  He came home from rehab the day after Memorial Day.  He needed a bit of help so we had aides scheduled for two two hour shifts each day.  Then June came.  Three more hospitalizations each one lasting nearly a week.  Each one leaving him a bit weaker and more confused until overnight he needed someone with him 24/7.  It happened literally overnight.  I said goodnight to him one night and the next morning I was woken by the phone ringing at 5:23.  He had been so confused and disoriented that he ended up in the ER.  I honestly thought it would just be a few days to get him back on a routine.  So my brother, sister, and I decided we would just split up the time.  Well, that was June 27.  It is now July 23.  He has made huge strides and I do see a light at the end of the tunnel. It's exciting to see him at nearly 84 years old fighting to get back to his life and regular activities.  This week we have added more aides.  So now he will have 9 hours a day with aides and we will cover the other 15.  It's still crazy but once again I am believing that it's just temporary and that he will be back to being on his own in the near future.

Unfortunately, my kitchen is suffering.  We are still living with folding tables holding things that should live in cupboards and walls half painted.  Counters that need to be constantly cleared because of the patching, priming, and painting that need to be finished.  I don't like clutter, it just stresses me out.  And right now every inch of living space in my house is cluttered.  And I HATE it.

I am a big believer in things happen for a reason and that everything is a chance to learn and grow.  This is the summer of having no control for me.  I consider myself a person of faith and absolutely trust that God has a plan and is in control.  My lesson this summer is to practice that faith and trust.  This is not how this was supposed to go.  I knew what I "needed" to accomplish.  What I wanted to do with my family. Virtually none of that has happened.  Instead, I am learning and sacrificing and praying.  A lot.  And trying to refocus on what really matters.