Finding THAT LOVING FEELING
(Through Peter Yarrow and Winter Storm Warning’s).
It’s been a few weeks since I have had the creative wings to soar. Somehow I have lost my mojo and creating anything has left me high and dry.
I’ve started a canvas for a new collage, yet it just has a coat of white gesso and a light layer of Sunnyside Up yellow. That’s it. I have of course the slight out line in my head, but once I start working with other mediums the goal I am working towards starts guiding me to it’s end.
But where is my creative mojo? The voice that lets me express myself through my hands and some kind of medium.
Where is that loving feeling?
Although I crave being creative, and have to work with my hands, this latest block is one of mega proportions.
Here it is again.
Ultimate frustration with myself. With this body that is just a vessel for my soul. Yet it is one that I need at its full capacity and when it does not live up to my expectations I get flustered, embarrassed, angry, and very frustrated.
I knew the weather was doing a number on me and as hard as I tried to head it off I should have remembered I was done in before I started.
This is called chronic illness. No matter what the illness some of the symptoms are universal to chronic illnesses. There are those symptoms that can be different, associated only with a particular illness. And then there is the difference in our bodies, how we individually respond and react to things.
I’m not certain which one is involved when the barometer is at work on my tendons, ligaments, muscles and joints, I just know from pattern watching that I am most certainly affected by when the barometer drops. I have written before about how my body can tell. I’m certain to some I may sound very like a nut. And that’s okay. I understand. I used to think my grandma was missing something very key. I wish I knew then what I know now.
How many times will I say that since the wise elder women in my family have all passed.? I wonder if my grandma had some way that she prepared herself. And that being questioned, I wonder if and how it impaired her life. Because it was certain that letting on to any of her family that anything was wrong, or was hurting, was just not going to happen. It was her way. It was the way of her time. Old School yes, but very old school even by my generation’s terms.
Sharing things like being in physical pain was just not done. And there is a lot to be said about that is many ways. But there is also a lot to be said about being stoic that can be harmful to your mental health, not to mention your physical health.
I wonder still (before I continue to digress) what kind of activities or forms of mindfulness my grandma used to help stave off the effects of the barometric pressure changing and the effects on her body. I need to know.
This last few days while the pressure kept plummeting I started getting more fatigued and pain symptoms began spiking. It happens every time. Long before it was suggested to me to keep a pain journal I had no idea what would trigger spikes. I cannot control all of the spikes in symptoms but there are things I now know that I can do that often make a difference in length and intensity.
This is how I discovered that barometric pressure changes affect my some of my symptoms.
There is plenty of documentation concerning this. THE WEATHER CHANNEL has a complete link dedicated to how the weather can affect your Aches & Pains. A Forecast. Really!
It’s pretty cool. Kind of like the one for the pollen count. And I did not even know about this tool, if you will, until I began searching for facts about this topic. Some even have a name for this phenom: Human Barometers, I discovered. While I will not go as far as saying this, I was happy to discover there was actual literature, studies and anecdotal stories about this.
This winter storm and the ensuing ones according to the national & local meteorologist’s are exacerbating the fatigue in my chronic fatigued body, and spiking the pain in a body that deals with chronic pain daily. So it’s not that any of this is new.
Yet the timing of these winter storms really blow. No pun intended. We have a concert to see Saturday night which means the artist, Peter Yarrow must be able to arrive at our small airport. Albeit the airport is always ready for the worst weather there is no control over incoming flights when the ground cannot be landed on for what ever reasons due to in-climate weather. It happens a lot here, but we thought by January we’d be so full into the season that another snow storm would be just another day. OOPS! Not when the first storm of the season does not happen until mid January. We are a resort town, we rely on snow for our city’s largest source of revenue. Summer & Winter our town rocks.
But the first snow storms of the season always take everyone off guard. Gee, I wonder if they could use a human barometer?
Still wondering then if Peter Yarrow… yes folks! Of THE Peter Paul & Mary,…still wondering if his flight will make to the high desert for his concert in our humble small city. This is to be the start of a very luxurious week for the man in my life & I. We have a date week planned. Peter Yarrow Saturday night, the next morning a trek over the mountain passes (more indulgence into the Winter Storm Warning) into our states largest city for the night. Then up the next morning, lazy start to the day and another couple of hours trek over the coastal mountains to the beach we go. For a well awaited & deserved week in a condo right on the beach. This beach is one we both grew up going to every chance our families got. In fact my husband’s parents moved right near this coastal town when he finished high school. We raised our daughters going every time we could get away from the valley. This is our beach town. Small, quiet, and not the tourist trap so many are. We rarely share this gem with anyone just for those reasons.
This time away is necessary and we’d go more often if I traveled better. Which is why we are breaking up a normally 5 hour drive into two days. Spending the night part way is so by the time we get there I am able to enjoy the week. Surrounded by a handful of pillows I make the trek over as comfortable as I can.
I am wondering and looking at my own inventory to see if there is any truth to the idea that this last few week’s lack of mojo is about all of this. Did my creative energy start to wane when the reservations were being searched out? Has my creative mojo flown south when I began the process of getting this vessel called my body ready to head west?
That the idea of prepping myself for a week away from my normal routines which I know from prior experiences can exacerbate my symptoms, that this could be adding stress I am not able to recognize? I don’t know. It sure does not seem like it yet there are pointers here I need to look at closer.
First the slack in any kind of creative energy for me is weird. I am the kind of creative entity that doodles when I’m on the phone, read art books in the loo. Any free time I have I spend using my hands to make something. Even cooking is a creative process for me.
Yet weeks ago my energy began dipping. No art, no card making, no needlework, food that was barely called meals. Then this week I can barely write. What usually would take a few hours to complete what I call a days work now is taking many days. Emails that are really pen pal letters and that usually take the form of short stories have been short and to the point. My enjoyment is not any less. Just that my body will not last with the burning energy I need to express myself in ways that are necessary for my healthy self. My expressive self.
This should have been a sign but even old baroness’s can be taught new tricks. And living with a chronic illness is all about tricks.
For my next trick to add to my arsenal of tricks that help me cope will be adding this need to be more aware. Aware when my body is preparing for something big. Something big like a Winter Storm Warning which sends the barometric pressure downward, and is a sign that my small world will change for a time. And something big like an evening concert with my biggest folk artist hero Peter Yarrow. Yet not to be out done by the week in the condo at the beach with my best friend forever. My husband.
Learning to listen to ones self is really hard. Learning to listen to ones body is almost a constant struggle. Quieting down the mind-the chatter that we all fill our selves up with is key. Quieting down the heart long enough to have heart for one’s self is loving, not selfish. These are lessons I am still working on.
Maybe one day these kinds of things will not be such a big deal to my life.
But then again… just maybe these kinds of things should remain huge in one’s life. If not they could become small everyday things that no longer excite the body, the mind and the heart.
Maybe that would be more of a shame.