I did the pre-op paperwork today for my heart-loop recorder procedure on the 16th.  It was thorough and annoying. Annoying because it is happening. Don't get me wrong, I want it to happen, I need to know what's up with my heart, so that we can collectively figure out what the heck is going on with my mid-life self and why she wants to fall apart suddenly. 

Suddenly isn't the right word. All at once, maybe? I don't believe it was sudden. I think that things contributed to it and maybe in the simplest of terms, stress played a major role. I've said it over and over and it probably does not need repeating but things happen. The point of life is getting through it. That sounds a little depressing, almost like we are dragging ourselves through it. I don't feel that way ... often and I'm not exactly sure what I am trying to say tonight. 

I've felt off this week and I think it's mostly because I haven't done my mental health journal or any of the art therapy that I had consistently been doing and I don't really have a reason as to why I haven't. And because of this break in my dailies, I feel as though I'm leaning towards the yellow zone in my Relapse Prevention Plan. 

The Relapse Prevention Plan is a way to be well. It requires a daily self-trust log in which I write about a situation that required self-trust, what I did, what I learned about myself, and a self-compassion practice where I respond to my self-criticisms with the same kindness I would show to a friend going through something similar. It really has helped me to frame it this way, because I would absolutely not talk to someone I love the same way in which I talk to myself. 

My RPP has three zones: a green, a yellow, and a red, and just like a stop light, it allows me to visualize when I'm in the caution zone. In the GREEN zone, I am well. I am maintaining boundaries, engaging in valued activities and healthy self talk, I am using self-care, tolerating uncertainty, and limiting my compulsions. 

In the YELLOW zone, I need to pay attention. I am engaging in compulsions more frequently, I am rehearsing conversations, overexplaining, have difficulty saying no, have increased self-criticism, am avoiding social situations, neglecting self-care, increasing worry about perfectionism and my competence, and experiencing sleep disruptions. 

Finally, the RED zone, means I need additional support. Fortunately, there's a way out, because again, this is a Relapse Prevention PLAN. When I notice I'm in the YELLOW, I ask myself a list of questions and thoughtfully respond to "get to the bottom" of why I've landed there. 

For fun, let's do it together. 

1. What is happening right now? 

I'm not engaging in GREEN activities and as a result, I'm swimming in the YELLOW zone. 

2. Is this anxiety, perfectionism, fear of judgment, or something I actually need to address? 

I honestly don't have an answer to this question. 

We had this beautiful weekend camping with friends, followed by a normal week of school and responsibilities. Well, normally we would have gone to Co-Op today, but I went to Tech's Grad Fair instead, to pick up my cap and gown and get free stuff. I also had a really great meeting with a fellow writer about the novel-query process and I left feeling very inspired. 

As far as my health is concerned, it was a long day. I was there over three hours, very aware of the tremor that would not cease, no matter what position I got in. Just constant shaking to where my neck feels so heavy by the weight of it all. So, there's definitely concerns there for this new normal as I navigate what should be a happy, exciting time of graduation and finishing my degree, and yet I'm faced with all this uncertainty like ...

• what does my future look like with this new disability and ...

• how does that play into the career I thought I was going to have and ... 

• who will hire me and ...

• what kind of job do I even want or can I even do now and ... 

• this need to write the novel and just keep going despite everything. 

So, it's clearly anxiety mixed with grief and I am struggling because I lost interest in facing the inevitable this week, but I'm human afterall, and I'm allowed to have moments that aren't great and feel all of these disappointments and feelings and still be okay. 

3. What is within my control? 

How long I choose to dwell on these feelings of despair. It is okay to feel, but it is not okay to reside there. I can do my self-trust/compassion journal and the art therapy. I can release these feelings in my writing and show others that this is part of it. 

I had a stroke and cancer this year and I survived. I am not the same person I was last year, but I am alive and I'm learning how to walk through the kind of grief that so few of us talk openly about--the moments that we face that demand we pivot and better take care of ourselves. The moments that require grieving who we were or thought we were going to be and how we saw our future going. 

Plans change, and I'm not saying that in a flippant way, but as an acknowledgment. Change doesn't feel great. Some of us just bounce back quick, but others of us, need time to process and understand and move within the waves. 

4. Which coping strategy fits this situation? 

Journaling is helping. It's allowing me to put it all in a place, that isn't my mind, and I am going to go one step further by doing the self-trust/compassion log. 

I usually put it in this beautiful journal some friends gifted me in this really lovely gift basket over the summer, but tonight, I shall do it here and it goes like this: 

1. One situation that required self-trust today: 

Knowing I needed to care for myself. During the meeting with the writer, it was great. I could've stayed longer talking to her but I wasn't feeling well. So, I politely excused myself and left. I got something to eat, drank some water, and drove home and took a nap. 

I "wear-out" much more easily now. I just don't have the stamina that I used to and that's all across the board. I just can't do and do and do. I must rest. I had a quiz to study for and household chores to do and meals to prepare and I did not do it. I know myself and I trusted that it would get done when it got done, but I wasn't going to bust a gut and overwhelm myself in the process. 

I want to be sharp for the critical moments. I don't want to run myself ragged, trying to prove to somebody that, "I still got it," or like some weird badge of burden. No, thanks. 

2. What I did. I've answered that bit. 

3. What I learned about myself. 

• I learned that I can't neglect my dailies. I must show up for myself and love and care for me. 

• I also learned that there are limits to what I can do when I'm not engaging in those healthy behaviors. 

• Finally, I learned that even though mistakes were made and consequences followed, I shouldn't beat myself up about it. Which leads to the next part, the self-compassion bit.

When self-critical thoughts arise, pause and ask: "What would I say to someone I love in this situation? How can I offer myself that same kindness?" 

To that, I would say, "Girl, stop. You are and have been going through it this year. (This entire year.) No one expects you to be anything more than what you can be right now. It is excellent that you keep showing up and doing the work. Grief is hard. There are ups and downs and periods of such extreme doubt about the future, but you don't have to plan that out right now. All you need to do is your dailies and baby-step your way through the GREEN zone. Things will work out--maybe not with you at the helm being the one you used to be--but that stressed-out weirdo got you here in the first place. We aren't trying to be her, we are trying to be whole and healthy, inside and out, for the rest of our life."

And that's how my dailies work. I do this first thing in the morning with my fancy expresso. I pray too and sometimes I read. I have neglected it this week but intend to jump back on it tomorrow morning. I can do this. I know I can. Thirty minutes first thing in the morning sure beats seven-days of anxiety-riddled sadness, right? 

Right. Here's to those of us grieving and learning and navigating our new normals. We can do this.