Making Time for Yourself

After letting the dust settle, I realised my big emotional turnaround began after our recent trip to Perth. It was a chance to get away; spend time with my dear longtime friend Jenny; stop thinking about all the heart stuff and be a family again. In those moments though, I mostly craved to connect with myself. Most prominently, I felt like I was doing a half-assed job of everything: being me, being a partner, being a mother, being a friend; being all the roles that make up the rich spectrum of my life.

I know that I can only be my best and offer my best, when I've connected with myself to begin with. Then I can have more to offer to everyone. The problem was that I felt I needed permission to do this. I felt guilty for being what I perceived to be selfish; for needing time on my own.

The longing to spend time on my own came to a boiling point. I realised I needed to take action when I began getting annoyed not only at myself, but at Chris and Zoe for just being themselves, for wanting me to be around and for engaging with me. I felt stretched really thin, that I had nothing to offer them. I started to resent them. It felt like I was steadily moving in a downwards spiral through a dark abyss with heavy weights on my shoulders, pushing me even further down.

I got really upset feeling this way towards the two most important people in my life; and knew that I had to do something about it. So I gave myself permission to be me, to give myself space to spend time on my own and do things I enjoy. I gave myself permission to have fun, relax, explore and find myself again.

I started with doing something small every day. Below is a list of the things I've done over the past couple of weeks that have contributed to making me feel whole again.

• dinner and movie date with myself
• hot stone massage (never had one before, so it also counted as a new experience)
• take shoes off and walk on the beach, wet my feet in the ocean, sit on the sand and play with it
• take a 2-3 hour afternoon nap
• meet my girlfriend for a 1-1 (no kids, no partners) coffee and gossip
• walk through grass barefoot
• date night with Chris (dessert and a movie) to be a couple again
• family Sunday drive along the coast, lunch and drink with dear friends
• bake with love: birthday cake for Zoe and banana bread for the physiotherapists at my rehab program
• nurtured, watered and caressed my potplants, played with the dirt
• went for a walk through the city to see the VIVID Festival with my girlfriend
• personal maintenance (waxing, shaving, exfoliating, moisturing, file and paint nails, new facial cleansing regime) 
• went out for walks around the neighborhood with just Zoe, so we can reconnect and for me to build my confidence up and look after her on my own again

Both my holistic therapist and my physiotherapist had advised me a while back to take time out to do simple things I enjoy....and now I know why: life goes on, so I may as well enjoy it! This is part of my healing process.

The Only Way is Up

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!

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.

 

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.

The Burden of Guilt

We were at a family function on the weekend and I was asked about my health and events leading up to the cardiac arrest. In fact it felt more like I was being grilled. Spit roasted and turned in my own juices to over cook.

"We're you stressed?"
"Work must be really stressful."
"We're you working long hours, did you have a lot of work on?"
"It's not good being stressed."

Mother fucker I haven't worked for over a year. Instead I have been at home chillaxing, playing with my daughter, organising my social calendar and going on coffee dates with friends. During that time the most stress I've experienced is deciding what to cook for dinner that night; and if I never got around to it, what take-away food to order.

I'm sorry if my language is offensive; but that's the answer I should have given. They know nothing about my life but they are full of assumptions. I haven't seen these people since Christmas. Instead I was a lot more diplomatic even after the bombardment of guilt. I was subliminally processing the conversation, feeling uneasy but not quite sure why. Until later.

They were trying to find a reason. The uncertainty of life, and death, are too much to bear. Stress was their scapegoat. I can empathise, I've tried to clutch on to various reasons.

The reality is that not even my doctors are completely sure what the reason for the cardiac arrest was. They found fluid around my heart so the most likely explanation is I had a virus. The virus weakened my heart and attacked it, messed with the electrics.

There was nothing I could have done or changed, no influence I could have had over the matter of my cardiac arrest. All it's workings were invisible.

I saw my holistic therapist on Monday, she's back in session after her maternity leave (YAY!). We had a very good and long chat. We pried open the lid to a very deep can of worms, which I'm dealing with.

One of the prominent emotions I am feeling is guilt. In my view I did all the right things, yet my body still let me down; I ultimately let myself down. Was there something else I could have done? The guilt suddenly takes a turn and joins forces with severe disappointment.

Guilt is a heavy cross to bear.

Not only had I been feeling guilty myself (without realising mind you!), I now had "family" making me feel even fucking worse. Like there was something I should have done that I didn't. Like I haven't been managing my own health or haven't had awareness about it my whole life already. I'm not ready to deal with their shit and their emotions, and I shouldn't have to either. I'm struggling enough dealing with my own.

Fuck that. Now I'm just pissed off. For me, this comes before understanding and finally acceptance.