Taking the rest of the year off

I have been ordered to take the rest of the year off from work. This is not doctor’s orders. Doctors refused to impose any restrictions on my activities. They have deprived me of the excuse to take it easy for awhile. Nevertheless, my friend and boss has ordered me not to do any work for the rest of the year.

This is not as dramatic as it may seem. Everyone on our little cross-country staff is supposed to take the rest of the year off beginning with Winter Solstice, which is Thursday. Or maybe Wednesday. But Carolyn gave me this order last week after I got home from the hospital and I have been following it, more or less.

This is not because I feel the need to take it easy. I have been going out for regular exercise although going to yoga is a bit like getting back on the horse, considering that I collapsed in Tree Pose less than two weeks ago. I find myself monitoring my breathing. Am I panting too much? Does this mean I am a little short of breath?

Part of me wants to yell, Stop it, don’t be such a wuss! The other part wants to milk it a little. After all, I had a brush with death. Shouldn’t this make me a little more careful, and those around me just a little more attentive?

Well, I got plenty of  attention in church yesterday. People couldn’t believe I was out and around and looking good, that I was really back to normal. But I am, physically.

Emotionally maybe not so much. The wuss part wants some special attention from my husband. Why have we been having so many fights since you came home? he wants to know. I say Because you act as if nothing happened. You act like everything is back to normal, like I didn’t almost die.

This wuss character is what Ekhardt Tolle calls the pain body, the balled-up ego that comes out with a vengeance every now and then when you are tired or going through hard times. It’s the part of you that carries all your personal hurt and pain and a lot more. It is the part of you that is in deep touch with all the pains of the world, with the knowledge and fear of mortality and the dark side of everything. Every now and then it comes out to feed on pity and self-pity and gloom and doom.

Of course, the feeding doesn’t satisfy the pain body; it just makes it grow bigger and heavier and more insatiable. What it really needs is some comfort and reassurance. There, there. This too shall pass. We’re ok.

I know my pain body doesn’t need pity but it does need a kind of limbo. A space between real trauma and real life. It needs the rest of the year off.

So Christmas preparations are minimal and fun this year. Lots of good church, the kind like yesterday’s service, that makes you laugh and cry. Family. More Apples to Apples.

And more blood tests, of course. Every couple of days for a while. (Pity me!) But that is better than every couple of hours. (Poor, poor me! I almost died!)

I had more to write about my ordeal but I want to both hold it for a while and set it aside. I want to allow freedom to move on to other things.

I may write more before the end of the year and I may not. Assume that I won’t. You can always catch up later.

Merry Christmas!