Vacation + Busyness = No time for me

I like my vacation time. I enjoy my vacation time, when I allow myself to enjoy it.

I started writing this post June 10th and here it is June 29th…what does that say about allowing myself to enjoy the passing of time?

I work a lot. 40 +-hours at a job where I get paid to work 35 and an additional 15-hours each week in my private practice.

I don’t need the money. I mean we all NEED money but I don’t need the extra money. I like the extra money because it goes into my retirement account. I make a good salary at my day job. I am, like a lot of people my age concerned about retirement. There is that question you see on the commercials asking “How much is enough?” I can’t answer that question and I would think the only ones capable of answering that questions are the ones who never had to worry about money to begin with.  When I began cutting back my hours at my practice, I’ll be the first person to say it was a struggle. What am I going to do with my extra time? I admit it has been a luxury. Sure the first paycheck from an insurance company which was a third the normal size was a bit of a shock, but it felt good. I felt happy. Sitting outside and working on the book I had neglected writing the past two years was amazing. I had renewed energy.

So if it’s not about the money then why do I do the extra work. There are a lot of reasons or perhaps reasons is not the correct word. Perhaps excuses is the correct word.

I mean c’mon it’s a little about the money. I enjoy the feeling the little extra security brings as I am able to put more money into a retirement account. It’s also about being or keeping busy. Busyness is a great thing if we don’t ever want to face the things in our life which lead us to unhappiness. Busyness doesn’t leave time to be unhappy or to even think about being unhappy. We have been brainwashed to believe the ability to “multi-task” is a good thing. How is that even possible? I want to do two or even three things very well, not six or seven things poorly.

The flip side of being so busy is identified by all of the above and leaves me no time to spend with my grandson, my wife or the myriad of activities which I so much enjoy. Sitting outside in the fading light of the day with my journal, my kindle, a good cigar and a glass of scotch happens all too infrequently. My cardiologist might agree, especially as it relates to the infrequent cigar, that this is a good thing.

I begin, toward the end of winter to look forward to traveling to the warmer and sunnier climate of the Gulf coast of Florida. As May and June approach my still very white body, still relatively depleted by Vitamin D even with the addition of a daily dose of Vitamin D look forward to this thing called a tan. More importantly my brain looks forward to the ability to shut down for one week. This vacation I was proud of my ability/willingness to complete three books. I am able to sit and  walk on the beach with sunglasses and hat in relative obscurity. No one knows who I am and for that brief period of time, I am free. Depression, at least for that period of time is also gone.

As I pack a carry-on bag, I look forward to boarding an airplane which will magically transport me to those warmer climates within just a couple of hours. The door to the plane will close and latch and create a vacuum against what remains outside.  When I remain busy, it creates an impenetrable vacuum. Nothing lives, for long in a vacuum. Happiness also goes here to die.

Yes, I remain connected to the outside world via computer and cellphone. As an Introvert, I have few friends who call. My phone can go for days with not even a text message being received. I recently deleted my Facebook account. I found symptoms of depression  growing and these symptoms being denied by my incessant busyness. I have since created a new Facebook page using an alter ego and friending the people with whom share my desire to be relatively drama free. and away from the fake news and political bull shit which has become so much of our world today.

I write one-month post vacation. It does not seem like a month has passed. It does seem as though six-months has passed. When did we become so busy? When did I become so busy?

This past week, now even later, saw the untimely deaths by suicide of Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain. Bourdain’s death for me was and remains a particularly troubling and difficult death. He never knew me but like many others I traveled vicariously with him every Sunday night to locations I will more than likely never see and eat the foods which again more than likely I will more than likely never have an opportunity to eat. Rest in peace Kate and Anthony. I guess I’ll have to travel without you Anthony and experience the things which seemed to bring such a smile to your face.

Namaste

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Memento Mori

So this post has been rattling around in my head for the last week. I wasn’t sure I knew how to write it or more accurately where to start. I had thoughts possibly of not writing it. Denial, as I am sure you are aware is a wonderful thing or can be a wonderful thing until the thing which we are denying comes back to bite us in the ass. I also realized if I wanted to continue to live, I couldn’t continue to live in denial.

The long and the short of it is this; the evening of Thursday, April 26th I suffered a mini-stroke. Also known as a TIA or Transient Ischemic Attack. There I was finishing the first therapy session of the night and I felt numbness from the top of my right jaw which extended to the right side of my mouth. It freaked me out! Because it lasted about 2-minutes, I decided after telling my wife that I would also complete the second therapy session of the night.

I finished the therapy session and my wife drove me to the hospital. I say this like I was a willing participant in this decision. My future daughter-in-law, also an RN completed a quick neurological assessment and despite everything looking positive, said, “I’m calling a friend at the hospital and you need to go.” At that point, I became a willing participant.

So, here I sit at my keyboard and attempt to put these thoughts down on paper. It isn’t any easier a two weeks later. I wake up and put on a happy face which is a thin veneer covering the fear below.  I completed my first week back at work and see things a lot differently. I notice I have less tolerance for whining and complaining. Less tolerance for people who don’t accept accountability for their life, their choices and blame others for the consequences which are a direct result of their own actions.

When I was in the hospital, my wife called me every morning and asked me if I needed or wanted anything. Beyond being discharged and coming home, which wasn’t in her or my realm of control, I wanted for nothing. I had thoughts of having her bring my journal and a fountain pen since this has always been my emotional release, but I didn’t ask. I wanted those things, but I didn’t. I wasn’t sure I wanted to document this event despite its importance in my life and the fear which it struck in my heart.

I wasn’t ready to face the suddenness of the attack and now that two weeks have passed, I’m not sure I want it anywhere in my memory other than a healthy “remember when.” I know, in order to continue to live a happy and healthy life, I need to make changes.

The word curmudgeon comes to mind. The Urban Dictionary defines curmudgeon as somebody considered to be bad-tempered, disagreeable, or stubborn. Curmudgeons are usually defined and cast as grumpy old men. I can be grumpy but I’m not. I just hate stupidity, laziness and those who refuse to accept accountability for their behaviors. I take pride in being an independent thinker. I don’t take popular or easy positions and I’m not afraid to go against the grain. If this makes me a curmudgeon, then so be it. I’m happy to be in the club. Anyway, not to get off on a tangent, but I know my personality can lead to increased blood pressure, which in my case is not what I need. I try to see the viewpoints of others, but often they’re just too stupid and I find my blood pressure getting even higher. Better to just avoid these folks.

hospitalbed1

Coffee or perhaps the coffee which I was drinking, “Death Wish Coffee” will have to go. I went to the company’s website and cancelled my monthly subscription. I thought I heard a collective groan coming from the company as I’m sure my decision will have a negative impact on the companies budget. For now, it’s half-caf and caffeine free tea. The transition has been surprisingly easy. The caffeine is not something I ever needed, but damn, the taste of that coffee!! Delicious!! That, I will miss.

This morning, after a restful night, I completed my third post-stroke run. I don’t have any running goals at this time other than to help manage and maintain my emotional and physical health. My running was cut short last year because of knee surgery and a bout of depression which set in and which I ignored. My only goal in running, with respect to my health, is to keep getting up, enjoying the solitude of the morning and my plodding stride

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and journaling about what happened, my health, my practice and my family. I carry a coin in my pocket. On one side it reads “Memento Mori, Remeber Death. The opposite side of the coin reads “You could leave here tomorrow.”

While this may seem morbid, it is the reminder that at any moment often without notice, our lives may be snatched away. Death does not come to us and ask permission. It arrives slowly in the form of a debilitating illness or suddenly in the form of a heart attack or stroke. Regardless, it is there waiting for us all. What matters most is how we choose to live the lives we were given at the time of our birth and death. We can spend it complaining about the things we don’t have instead of feeling gratitude for the gift of life which we do have.

contemplation

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Namaste