Before the cardiac arrest we had booked three trips: two interstate and one abroad. We like to travel and having family and friends spread all over the world makes it more of a priority. One of the first things I did after coming out of hospital was start organising our upcoming trips.
At the time I had an overwhelming urge to go ahead and lock in the trip details as soon as possible. On the surface I thought the reason was to make the most out of getting a second chance in life. I didn't want to miss the opportunities to see our family and friends. Underneath all that was the overwhelming desire to resume life as normal. You see, I'm the trip organiser in our family, so the trip logistics and destination selections are my domain. So I took the reigns and went full pelt into organisational mode.
In my chat with Dr Jaime O (my holistic therapist) this week we discussed fear and not letting it be the motivating factor behind my actions. Instantly I felt guilty (there is that pesky guilt creeping in again) that fear was my motivation behind continuing with the trips. On one hand I had my existential crisis around mortality and on the other, a bunch of emotions that were only just starting to surface. Evidently, guilt was the initial and predominant emotion, with fear a close second.
I thought maybe I was afraid not having done some things I wanted to do in this life? Afraid that I would leave this existence having missed out on something: a moment, an experience, an interaction. That's what my mind was telling me, that they should be the things I should be afraid of.
I caught up with my dear friend Krystal for a coffee recently. She asked me if what happened made me think about my bucket list. I thought about that question for a moment, lingered over it whilst holding my cup of hot chocolate. "No, not really. I think I do a pretty good job of living my life exactly how I want to live it, and doing all the things I want to", was my response. Perhaps the only things I haven't done from my list are learning Italian or to play the guitar.
Considering I live my life how I want, then logically, I shouldn't be afraid of missing out on anything. I realise now what I was really afraid of, is losing myself. I realise that sometimes we have to lose ourselves before we can find ourselves again.
I've been feeling that I need to redefine who I am. That these events (the cardiac arrest and the insertion of a defibrillator) somehow made me into someone else, that they define me, that once again I'm that sick person I spent the first 25 years of my life believing I was. I've worked really hard to shed that limiting belief. Similarly to life and death, my life and my condition are two very separate entities. So the challenge is to integrate and manage them. I'm like everyone else, with the same hopes and desires, just a little bit special, so I have to ensure to look after myself accordingly.
I no longer think I need to redefine myself. I'm simply Angie 2.0. The same as before but new and improved with the addition of some technological advancements, an insurance policy if you will, in the form of my defibrillator.
I'm writing this 37,000 feet in the air, cruising above the clouds. We're on our way to Perth to visit my long-time friend Jenny and her family. In my state of fear weeks ago I was thinking about all the things that could go wrong. I'd be stuck in a plane for five hours. What if I have an arrest during the flight? What if the defibrillator doesn't work? What if I die on the plane (and all the horrific logistics around that)? What if my defibrillator sets off the security machines at the airport? What if these fears become so overwhelming that I don't want to fly?
Traveling is up there on my value system, along with family, friends and new experiences. These values are closely intertwined. Once I realised that my true fear is losing who I am, and that travel is a big part of me, giving into the fear and not traveling became impossible. Who I am is not negotiable. I refuse to give in to a shitty, intangible emotion like fear. What a waste of time!
Pharell Williams puts it well: "Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth. Clap along if you know what happiness is for you. Clap along if you feel like that's what you want to do". I'm happy to feel like myself again and live my life how I want to live it. Beyond that there's nothing much I can do, just go along for the ride.
In my mind, I'm clapping all the way to Perth.
At the time I had an overwhelming urge to go ahead and lock in the trip details as soon as possible. On the surface I thought the reason was to make the most out of getting a second chance in life. I didn't want to miss the opportunities to see our family and friends. Underneath all that was the overwhelming desire to resume life as normal. You see, I'm the trip organiser in our family, so the trip logistics and destination selections are my domain. So I took the reigns and went full pelt into organisational mode.
In my chat with Dr Jaime O (my holistic therapist) this week we discussed fear and not letting it be the motivating factor behind my actions. Instantly I felt guilty (there is that pesky guilt creeping in again) that fear was my motivation behind continuing with the trips. On one hand I had my existential crisis around mortality and on the other, a bunch of emotions that were only just starting to surface. Evidently, guilt was the initial and predominant emotion, with fear a close second.
I thought maybe I was afraid not having done some things I wanted to do in this life? Afraid that I would leave this existence having missed out on something: a moment, an experience, an interaction. That's what my mind was telling me, that they should be the things I should be afraid of.
I caught up with my dear friend Krystal for a coffee recently. She asked me if what happened made me think about my bucket list. I thought about that question for a moment, lingered over it whilst holding my cup of hot chocolate. "No, not really. I think I do a pretty good job of living my life exactly how I want to live it, and doing all the things I want to", was my response. Perhaps the only things I haven't done from my list are learning Italian or to play the guitar.
Considering I live my life how I want, then logically, I shouldn't be afraid of missing out on anything. I realise now what I was really afraid of, is losing myself. I realise that sometimes we have to lose ourselves before we can find ourselves again.
I've been feeling that I need to redefine who I am. That these events (the cardiac arrest and the insertion of a defibrillator) somehow made me into someone else, that they define me, that once again I'm that sick person I spent the first 25 years of my life believing I was. I've worked really hard to shed that limiting belief. Similarly to life and death, my life and my condition are two very separate entities. So the challenge is to integrate and manage them. I'm like everyone else, with the same hopes and desires, just a little bit special, so I have to ensure to look after myself accordingly.
I no longer think I need to redefine myself. I'm simply Angie 2.0. The same as before but new and improved with the addition of some technological advancements, an insurance policy if you will, in the form of my defibrillator.
I'm writing this 37,000 feet in the air, cruising above the clouds. We're on our way to Perth to visit my long-time friend Jenny and her family. In my state of fear weeks ago I was thinking about all the things that could go wrong. I'd be stuck in a plane for five hours. What if I have an arrest during the flight? What if the defibrillator doesn't work? What if I die on the plane (and all the horrific logistics around that)? What if my defibrillator sets off the security machines at the airport? What if these fears become so overwhelming that I don't want to fly?
Traveling is up there on my value system, along with family, friends and new experiences. These values are closely intertwined. Once I realised that my true fear is losing who I am, and that travel is a big part of me, giving into the fear and not traveling became impossible. Who I am is not negotiable. I refuse to give in to a shitty, intangible emotion like fear. What a waste of time!
For the first time in a long time I finally feel like myself again. I put my headphones on and listened to my music full blast. I starred out the window and looked beyond the clouds into the misty horizon. I dreamt of faraway places. Then I cried. I cried for the fear and guilt I needlessly have been feeling. I cried for the people in my life whom I love. I cried for all the people in our world that feel pain and suffering. I cried for the gratitude I feel for my life and existence. I cried for the moment. I cried for finding myself again. I cried for the surrender that I finally felt.
In my mind, I'm clapping all the way to Perth.
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