Happy Days

Watching Wimbledon this week and anticipating the Olympics, I was struck by what a lucky little so-and-so I have been. I was trying to imagine what my “bucket” list might have looked like in my late teens/ early twenties and I reckon it would have looked a bit like this

A trip to Disney World
Watch tennis at Wimbledon
Meet my soul mate
See the Northern Lights
Dance at the Tower Ballroom
Have a successful career
Go to the Olympics
See New England in the fall

I don’t think, at that age, the one thing left on my bucket list – travel throughout Ireland (particularly Galway, Cavan and Tipperary) would have made the list; I probably didn’t understand my cultural and ancestral ties at that age.

Fair to say I have smashed the rest of it, the Northern Lights were dropped in my lap, a gift from nature that wasn’t lost on me. I have travelled North America extensively and enjoyed every second, Yosemite (three times), Disney World and Orlando (seven times) and the Canadian rockies (twice); would be my favourites, but I also loved Zion, New York, Boston, Washington DC, San Francisco, Washington, Vancouver and Shenandoah. I wish I had been brave enough to explore South America and the Indian Continent – I feel the colour and vibrancy of those places would have awakened my senses and lust for adventure in ways that could have changed my life; but my desire for comfort and safety has always been too strong. Reading has been my travel placebo. I’ve been to many a cup final at Wembley, have spectated at Wimbledon several times, was one of the many who experienced Super Saturday first hand, I danced at the Tower Ballroom with my soul mate and I think my career was reasonable.

I have had an incredible life, probably not by anyone else’s standards but, in my eyes, I have achieved so much. My life has been full of love – given and received. I know that I have saved lives through my compassion and understanding – what a gift that is. And I have influenced other lives of course, mostly positively, and certainly my intent has always been one of kindness. I have worked hard and had much enjoyment. There have been challenges, grief – as it is for most people my age – has been my companion many times in the last twenty years. My health has been, for the most part, excellent and I am full of admiration for my body’s ability to do all it does. My most recent challenge came on the 4^th March this year when I heard, for the second time, those fateful words “sorry, it’s cancer”. I was alone, I was shocked, I was afraid. My overwhelming thought was I am not ready to die. The system kicked into action quickly and efficiently – staging CT, bloods, scans, further histology and I was to come back on 21^st March for a fuller diagnosis and to agree a plan.

On that day I wrote in my journal “scared, hopeful, numb”. That about covers it!

The results were as good as they could be in the circumstances, and a plan was put in place for surgery the following Wednesday, yet again the system ramped up and I was pre-op’d and ready. On the Saturday before my operation, I decided to do the 100 Happy Days challenge. I am so glad I did. Firstly, to notice just how quickly 100 days passes; and perhaps more importantly to gain some evidence about what exactly makes me happy. The first thing I need to point out is that there are more happy things than there are days – because it wasn’t `the happiest thing’ but all that had made me happy that day. When I looked back this week to analyse the results, I was pleased to see that most of the things that make me happy represent the cornerstones of good mental health.

Thirty-eight times in the 100 days I noted some aspect of “noticing nature”, from the Northern Lights to a pretty flower, and there is such resonance here with my day to day. I am surprised it wasn’t 900/100 as that’s what my life feels like.

My beautiful pup Zahra, with all her challenges, was the next highest scoring; followed closely by friends and family. Love, as I have already said, and I am lucky to have the best people (and pup) in my corner. I appreciate every one of my relationships.

Next came food and more specifically cake, and anyone who knows me knows this to be true! I could do with cutting down a bit, but it’s never lost on me that nourishing myself is a great privilege. Enjoying tastes and textures; and using food to express my love for others is, and always will be, a huge and healthy part of my life.

The next highest scoring happy factor was family history. I have been researching my family history for more than three decades and I love so much about this. I love the actual research, playing detective, analysing facts, seeing patterns – holding everything loosely, and then homing in and proving a piece of evidence. It has taught me so much about life and how to analyse information, also about being non-judgmental and keeping my heart and mind open. Then there are the stories, often not my own blood line but some delightful rabbit holes that I have tumbled down along the way – like the story of Catherine Ratcliffe-Duncan, a pit brow lass from Billinge; and Mary Ellen Foster, who left rural Rainford to enhance her nurse training and ended up being one of the first registered physiotherapists. But it’s the people I have met along the way who are the greatest treasure, not just the many cousins I have connected with but the genealogists who are so kind and generous with their time and expertise.

The next part of my analysis shows several things with equal weighting: art, reading, naps, self-care and self-improvement. Wonderful! House work and home improvements snuck onto the list – I don’t think we should live for “things” or keeping those things clean and tidy; but nor do I need to justify myself, I am working on being happy with “being” and I don’t see these features as a failure – just clarity that I have work to do and in the meantime I appreciate my surroundings and beautiful things as a form of art.

Finally celebrating the milestones of my cancer treatment was a small feature, ringing that `end of treatment’ bell is quite something. Who knows what the future holds; but I know that I will face it with the right attitude, excellent support and the experience of a life well lived.

If you want to read more about Zahra, Catherine or Mary Ellen see my previous blog posts on this site.

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My Second Life

On this day 19 years ago I went to the operating theatre to have my left breast removed, it had developed a significant invasive cancerous tumour and it had to go! I am, as far as I know, in remission. I celebrate this day as my second birthday, the last 19 years as the second life I was given; and I try to use it well. So here are 19 of the things I have learned:

There’s really no such thing as the “all clear”, I have given up explaining this but really no-one can be guaranteed “cancer free”, the correct term is “no evidence of disease”.
I am still me, a work in progress but always me. Cancer didn’t take anything from me, I am not my disease. I am not “the one who had breast cancer” because I am so much more than that.
Who I am is far more important than how I look.
Who I am is a gazillion times more important that what anyone else thinks of me. Their judgement is about them, not me.
Life is not fair. Bad things happen to good people. Lightning does strike twice or even more times. Heartbreak is a part of life, as long as you have love and joy, you will have grief and sorrow; but the love and joy will prevail and it is worth it. Oh, and cancer is a lottery – I didn’t `deserve’ it, no one deserves it. We constantly look for explanations but sometimes there just is no explanation. If you have been diagnosed, please, please know that it isn’t what you did or said or took or didn’t take. Yes, there are health risks and if you want to reduce yours and live a healthier life, please do – you will no doubt benefit but as the bible says “Todays burdens are enough for one day”, don’t add to your load with blame or shame.
Everything changes, all the time, regardless of whether you want it to or don’t want it to. You are not in control, you cannot change it – accept it, go with it.
Anything is possible, good and bad, so stay open that possibility.
Perfection does not exist, you aren’t perfect and nor is anyone else. Your parents aren’t perfect, they are just doing the best they can and they know you aren’t perfect – they just want the very best for you and sometimes it comes out a bit twisted. But really, they love you just exactly as you are.
As Maja Angelou says “People will forget what you said, they will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel”.
There are no bad feelings, just your feelings. Listen to them, let them tell you what they mean. You are not your feelings, but they are important.
I tried to say this better but couldn’t, so take it away Emily Dickinson
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land.
And on the strangest sea,
Yet never in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Count your blessings, gratitude has been proven to improve well being and it’s a great practice to get into.
Forgive and send love to everyone, especially those who don’t seem to deserve it – they are usually the ones who need it the most.
You can do it, even in the fiercest storms of your darkest days – you are stronger than you know.
Breathe deeply, practice slowing and deepening your breathing as a means to steadying yourself when life churns you up a bit.
As the wonderful Matt Haig says “notice the beauty”, look around you, there is always something to appreciate.
Everyone has something to teach you.
Learning is a wonderful gift, stay curious, ask questions and listen.
Love is everything – to love and be loved.

Un-selfish?

“Selfcare isn’t selfish” is often quoted these days and I truly agree. The equally popular adages “You cannot pour from an empty cup” or “Put your own oxygen mask on first” are helpful to those who perhaps have been raised, as I was, to believe that everyone else comes first and your purpose is to serve. I don’t think these were messages meant to harm us, they were meant to create “good” human beings; I guess our caregivers believed that inherent instincts would stop us taking the messages to the extreme where we would put our own survival in jeopardy.

This summer I have battled with the self-care message. I wrote my self-care charter and broke it – still a work in progress! But then I read a couple of books that (I hope) are life changing. The first, thanks to a dear friend, was “The Choice” by Edith Egar and, from a reference in that, I read Victor Frankl’s “Man’s Search for Meaning”; and then I got confused. Clear messages from both were that how you perceive something is critical and that only you have control of that perception inside your mind; I was fine with that. The harder message is that you shouldn’t seek happiness, that happiness is a biproduct of service to a larger aim; in service of something or someone else. That shattered my little self-care campaign until I decided to order things (here I go again, there’s a theme already from my blogs)!

So, I see it as a spectrum from Selfish to Selfless; at one end I’m “all about me” and at the other end I am exhausting myself in service of others or some form of work (not necessarily paid work). But there is a happy medium. What to call this? I have seen it referred to as “Self-full”, so a place where you take care of your own needs first and from that position of strength serve others. It’s maybe my conditioning but that terminology doesn’t really appeal – to me it suggests I cannot serve others until I have done everything I need; which sounds a little bit selfish. Perhaps a more appealing term would be “Unselfish”? In my mind this suggests a sensible balance of self-care and purpose. It might also be seen as equal measures of hedonic and eudemonic wellbeing – hedonic being pure pleasure/ enjoyment and eudemonic being more about feeling worthwhile.

We need both and, I believe, our self-care charter needs both.

Grief is three dimensional

All of us, at some point in life, will deal with grief. It can be the loss of a person, a pet or a part of ourselves (a relationship, a career, a job or a skill).

I am no expert, but I have lost people and a dear dog who were very precious to me. It is only with this most recent loss, my beautiful two-year-old female German Shepherd, that I have started to find some structure to my grief.

When my mum died four years ago, an extremely close and complex relationship for me, I was lost. I started on a course of study that would take me into the realms of psychology and help me to pick apart that relationship and who I was as a result of it. I sincerely hope it has led me to a better and happier place; but during the journey I struggled with my grief. One of the things I struggled with, was the perception I came across in the texts that anyone still grieving after a year was `stuck’ and probably `pathologically depressed’. Maybe I was? I was doing a bloody good job of living with clinical depression if this was it! More texts told me what I absolutely needed to hear, that there was no arbitrary cut off at 6, 12, 48 or even 360 months! My grief was my grief and it depended who I lost, how I lost them and what our relationship was.

Our dog taught me lots of things. She had character to spare and it took me a while to accept that this mischievous, funny, beautiful, stubborn and loving little character was okay to open my heart to. Looking back now it seems silly to have taken time, but I was still heart sore from mum, I had unrealistic expectations of that puppy and I was doing too much in general. After a year or so our relationship blossomed and became an unconditional love, an often-used phrase but one that I had never truly understood before. Then in, what seemed, an especially cruel twist of fate she became seriously unwell. A part of me wanted to lower my head again and see this as a slap in the face of happiness; to surrender myself to misery and depression, but I managed a balanced view that this was just a challenge, that our darling girl was just extra special, and we would love her even more for it. Then fate took her from us.

So here I am, determined not to bow my head and wanting (as I always do) to make some sense from this; so here is what I have learned. I see three dimensions to grief:

• How the loss occurs, in the loss of a person this includes how they die, how much time you have with them, whether this is an “out of time” death (such as the death of an infant or your child), whether you can be there, whether you can make any sense of the events that happen;

• The loss, having the person ripped from your life, what’s the timing, where are you at in your career, your relationships and what part does that person play, how is your relationship with them at that point in time, how much are they woven into your life and your story;

• Missing them, not having them in your life, not there to share things with, not there to give you advice or for you to help them. Not there to enjoy the activities you used to enjoy.

These three aspects are interwoven but my hypothesis is that the first two dimensions can be processed and progressed in some way. The third dimension will never go, the shape and presence of that person, pet, relationship, will always be in your life; a part of who you were; a part of who you are; and part of the memories that you see, feel and (hopefully) cherish.