The Magical Thinking of March
I often slip into this specific kind of magical thinking where I forget that, no matter what my intentions might be, life has its own plans that are beyond my control. February and March were a reminder of that.
Although, I can say that I believe I have done a good job of keeping things much simpler this year (pats self on back), that hasn’t always involved what I imagined that it would—logistical things like water, supplements, and moving my body in more gentle and intuitive ways. I do think those things have helped make me feel better in my body, but what has really been required is a sense of flow and acceptance.
In January, so many of my thoughts about what life should look like were thrown off-kilter by sickness. I guess the same can be said of February and March, but in a different context. Right around Valentine’s Day, our almost-eighteen-year-old cat Atticus started losing interest in food. Over a few days, that advanced to not eating at all. This from a cat who has literally spent her life waking me up at 4:30 a.m. to eat, enjoys four meals a day, and stands on two legs in anticipation when the top of the cat food can is cracked. I had little victories here and there in the days that followed, where I could convince her to eat certain irresistible things, but those victories were short-lived. This is a cat who has very much taken advantage of her nine lives, so there was a part of me that remained hopeful she would do the same this time. But there was another, deeper part of me, that understood we were nearing the end.
Over the course of the next two weeks, we slowed everything down in this house. I adjusted my work habits, taking video meetings from my bed so that I could be near Atticus; I took a couple of days off altogether (thank goodness for the most understanding clients ever [insert heart emoji]); I had conversations with my daughter who has never known life without Atticus and she, in turn, had sweet conversations with Atticus; and I made sure Atticus heard all of the things I wanted her to know about what a gift she’s been in my life. And, finally, I let Atticus know that she could go, that we would be okay. On March 3, we said goodbye to her.
It has been the end of an era, and such an adjustment in the shape of our daily lives. My daughter and I have both grieved in our different ways, as have our two younger cats. For me, Atticus was a final thread connecting me back to the life I lived at twenty-eight, when she and her brother Radley came bounding into my Cambridge home as furry little puffballs, and then through all of the life and loss and love that followed over the course of nearly two decades. It was a painful loss, and also one that it felt important to slow down and acknowledge.
I gave myself what I needed to get through that. We asked friends to step in and help with logistics at points when it was necessary. I rested and cried when I needed to. I wrote. I got really intuitive and intentional about how I moved—on a few days that meant running to pound it out, but most days it meant walking or yoga. In the past few days, I’ve gravitated toward strength training, which feels like my body’s reaction to moving forward and the renewal that comes with spring. Through all of this, I continued all of the things I incorporated into life since the turn of the year (intentional hydration, supplements, and pared down news consumption). I was able to continue with these things because they are so simple and fit into life regardless of what’s happening at every given moment. This is a novelty for someone like me, who likes to go hard, then comes to an abrupt halt when things get complicated. I can feel those things adding up, and believe they helped me weather and be present for this time of loss. And they’re also helping me reemerge.
The 5-Minute Journal
I used to be an avid journaler—it was basically the way I thought, and you could find me writing multiple times a day. Although I still write in my journal, it’s more like a few times a month now. I like this 5-Minute Journal because it’s gotten me back into the habit of journal-writing on a regular basis, but in short, manageable little snippets. It quite literally takes five minutes and, really, less than that because those five minutes are divided into a morning and evening session. Every day has the same prompts—in the morning the prompts are to set the tone and intention for the day, and at night they’re reflective and gratitude-focused. To be honest, I’ve never really been into gratitude journals in any sort of consistent way, but I get what everyone says about it now. I do find myself focusing more on glimmers to log into my journal every night, as opposed to triggers. I got my daughter one of these journals too, and sometimes we do them together for an extra dose of sweetness.
Massage Me-Time
I’ve always loved a good massage, but recently I’ve only been going a couple of times a year. When I went in this December, my masseuse told me that my body is becoming more tight and rigid and that keeping my fascia soft and flexible requires monthly sessions. I gave him the ol’ single-working-mom response … and he called me out. As soon as he did, I realized he was right. Is it logistically difficult to find time for a massage session? Kind of. But, really, it has to do with priorities. So I blocked out some time from work on a Friday, asked a mom friend if she could pick up my daughter (much to said daughter’s delight), and booked a glorious 120-minute session. At the end of the session, my masseuse (who is a star, BTW) asked if I stand weird. I laughed because I do find myself standing in Tree Pose on the regular—at my standing desk, while I’m doing the dishes, brushing my teeth, and so on. He told me he could tell, and mirrored the leg that I’m always bending upward (my right leg). He told me that the result was my right leg is slightly shorter than the left. It’s also the culprit for the pain in my left hip, which I’ve been attributing to aging or running. Yay! It’s been a sticky habit to break, but I’m so grateful to have an answer and a simple (enough) solution, even though it is proving to be a full-time job to address my inner-pelican. But, boy, do I feel better in my body and more mobile minus the hip discomfort!
Back to the Gym
I used to be a gym rat, but that ended about fifteen years ago when I admitted to myself that I used it as a form of self-punishment. Even though I went regularly, I didn’t like it. It felt like a chore and I found myself comparing myself to everyone around me.
I decided to give the gym a whirl again to keep running when it got colder and, also, to use the weights machines since I know strength is such an important component to aging well. For years I’ve been telling myself that yoga is enough for strength, but … is it? My concern is that I’ve been doing it for so long that, while it’s not always easy, I’ve built up the muscle memory at this point.
So to the gym I went and, what do you know? I like it! First of all, it’s a very “non-showy” gym, and I would say that the average clientele is in their sixties and seventies, which helps! At first I was intimidated by the weight machines because it’s been so long since I used them. I eased my way in with a couple a day, though, and this week I found myself going to the gym solely for a weight training session. I’m so glad that I joined despite my misgivings and sense of inadequacy.
Overall, February and March have had some really tough, sad moments. But they’ve also had some beautiful ones. And it’s been a real exercise in avoiding rigid patterns and shoulds by tuning into what I specifically needed on each given day.
So, thank you, Atticus, for your final lesson.