1373A MUSING OVER INSIGHTS CONCERNING EXHAUSTION OVER THESE LAST FOUR WEEKS

Though still very tired, I'm feeling drawn to express the train of thought that's chugging through my mind, right now.  In the aftermath of my enthusiasm to create a perfect holiday celebration for my dearest loved ones, this self defeating pattern emerged in clear light:  Time and again, I push my life force way too far as if willing myself to pull forth super human strengths.  This time, I felt bound and determined to create a sumptuous Passover feast for twenty as has been my pleasure, annually for more than four decades.  If you ask how this year differed from all other years, my reply would be twofold:  I'm past seventy, and this year, all of our kids flew in, blessing their proud parents with the pleasure of their presence, suggestive of this fact:  Our home bounced with energy bubbling forth from six house guests, two of whom were a pair of active little boys, whose energy knows no bounds.  And though my younger-than-springtime attitude delighted in watching Ravi, Tony and Ray entertain each other from morning to night, too much of a good thing must have rubbed against my age more than my conscious awareness cared to know, because retrospectively, I can see how my level of excitement continued to elevate as though to match that of this trio, stimulating my adrenal glands to secrete so much adrenalin that by the weekend's end, I found my seventy-two year old body and mind so thoroughly spent as to be too weak to stand for more than a minute before dizzying, and as I couldn't catch my breath anxiety replaced pleasure, which is why I repeat that too much of anything can become problematic, because balance in all things is imperative to maintaining good health, and that's most especially true as we approach advanced age.

Though I'd honestly felt joyful during each well-organized day of the previous week, which saw me whistling while working to prepare whatever needed doing in order to free my time to shower all of my kids with happy hugs and an attentive ear throughout our gala weekend, which filled our home with love and happiness ... I'd already offered myself reason to tire before they'd arrived, so here is what I've learned, resultant of having thoroughly exhausted my mind, body, and spirit of every drop of energy in the name of creating pleasure for loved ones and myself:  Knowing that my appetite for life is huge, I can see how this most recent bout of exhaustion offered my overwhelmed life force reason to collapse, reducing my appetite to the point of watching myself lose eight pounds while gaining insight into my need to respect the inevitability of the aging process as my own, and thus have I been seriously reconsidering my ability to continue to create unrealistic, larger than life  expectations of myself, concerning pleasures in which I can participate but no longer produce for my loved ones.  And with that slice of common sense in mind, I've spent these past several weeks of down time working to re-adjust my mindset to accommodate for changes that I cannot deny if my decision-making machine is to guide my sense of reality to adapt to this fourth stage of life gracefully rather than grumpily.

I mean, let's face it:  If I'm writing the story of my life then no way do I plan to characterize myself as Grumpy, or Dopey or Bashful or the evil queen or Prince Charming, who has been taught to believe that the only thing that can outwit an evil spell is true love's first kiss when insight into deeper truth suggests that awakening to reality is as much an inside job as proves true  of healing the traumatized portion of my very human (rather than super human) brain.

Don't get me wrong, I love fairy tales, most especially those that end happily ever once the tall tale offers up the positive view of love conquering all.  Unfortunately,  the only kind of love that can TRULY heal THE TRAUMATIZED PORTION OF THE HUMAN MIND, WHICH PROVES VULNERABLE TO EPISODIC ATTACKS OF PTSD (most especially when positively focused energy has had reason to faint, releasing an exhausted mental state to swirl the Neo cortex into a bottomless black hole) proves to be a strong sense of self love, which most children are taught to confuse with selfishness, and as such, vicious cycles of undeserved guilt dizzy A PERSON's common sense too much to stand up and redirect an exhausted mind to switch tracks from feeling like a failure to thinking like a well-balanced winner in need of astute coaching when the game is LIFE, and the championship is at stake.

Thank God, Will and I are still working at re-raising ourselves just as we'd worked to create a team of champion solution seekers, who, like Snow White's seven best buds, have developed a strong affinity for the concept of all for one and one for all, most especially at times when one of their primary role models exhausts, necessitating a family discussion, concerning elders identifying a growing need to pass yet another baton to hearts and minds that both loving and younger.

Before identifying my pattern of not passing batons until my life force has no strength left even to call uncle, my stubborn mindsets propelled the sum of my parts toward total exhaustion six times over my adult life (each time will be considered when intuitive thought gives my think tank a green light).  It's of interest to note that exhaustion does not follow in the aftermath of my being the one in intensive care, because at those times, even I could not charge myself to ignore my needs in order to take care of anyone else if my very life depended on it ... Pun intended.  If didn't exhaust after my beloved father's death or after losing my precious mother then what triggers an exhausting episode of PTSD to emerge and darken my sense of worthiness until no hint of my bright side can be found?  Since the answer to that riddle is still up for speculation, suffice to say that intuitive thought is still working on it.

In order to move forward with common sense, good humor and re-vitalized health intact, I've begun to voice my need to initiate change in such a calm, loving, insight-driven manner that my sons have been lovingly receptive to holding out their hands each time I've expressed need to pass another baton.  (Quoting one of my nieces -please take care of yourself ... I like having you around - Quoting Erma Bombeck -old age is not for sissies-

As I don't want this lengthy bout of exhaustion to replicate when future holidays arise, I've mustered the courage to look into my mirror and each time I see reality staring back, my think tank directs me to assume a self confident attitude before flooding my mind with unidentified anxiety, and in that way, upon opening my mouth to clearly voice my concerns about limitations, which prove timeless and universal as each person grows old, I'll remember to include myself..  On the other hand, each time I feel need to pass a baron, my sons' sense of responsibility has reason to expand, and therein lies the sense of balance that builds bridges of honest communications that prove necessary if two generations are to understand why changes, which we'd not freely choose, must be discussed in such a mutually respectful manner that heartfelt conversations result in decisions that take into account everyone's current needs. 

Since I'm determined to walk forward, holding onto fragrant posies made up of grace, humor and gratitude for love, friendship and a life lived well that means there's no time like the present to concentrate my conscious awareness upon my need to meander, rather than barreling down, a positively focused path.

Last night, we went out to dinner; today out to lunch;  I'm reading fine literature and writing, again.  Though I've not regained the physical energy to play ring-around-the-rosy with my precious Ravi, Steven is bringing dinner and our darling grand daughter, in a little while.

Wow!  I didn't expect all of this to pour out!  But since it did, I can surmise that little by little, the darkness of exhaustion is lifting, and once my energy force flashes bright, I'll get a handle on a deeper truth, concerning the ways in which exhaustion serves as a trigger, inviting another unwelcome episode of PTSD to emerge and swallow my common sense whole.

Hoping all you love are well,

Love you,

Annie

Actually, the train of thought penned above was my response to an email, which I received, yesterday, from a dear friend, who heard that I've not been well.  I chose not to elongate my answer by adding details, which would explain how exhaustion triggered  anxiety, because I chose to highlight that topic, yesterday, in a post that will be published, sometime soon.

My friend wrote:  Why are you so worn out?  Are things not going good or are you not feeling well?  Hopefully everything is okay with the kids.  Please tell me so. Hugs to you and Will