Practice Two for Anything that Feels Impossibly Scary

Sara Orem
4 min readJun 12, 2021

--

Aleksey Oryshchenko for Unsplash

Practice Two: Is Something Happening Right Now? Now means more than this moment. Now includes the situation I’m in, the feelings I have in the present, and whatever awareness I need to have about the next moments in my life. I’ve tried and been at least partially successful over many years to move from being an expert worrier (definitely not about this moment but about multiple negative scenarios that might happen but rarely do), to be a more peaceful, accepting, present person. However, my significant physical discomfort and my current inability to sleep challenge the ability to stay solidly in the present moment.

My primary care physician tells me I have to sleep. Easier said than done. For the past several years sleeping has been more an intermittent gift than a nightly occurrence I can take for granted. Friends and professionals have tried to help me find natural and other solutions — melatonin, several different kinds of teas and tinctures — all natural — CBD, Ambien, PM versions of Advil and Tylenol. Some of these work some of the time, some sort of work (I can fall asleep but not stay asleep), and some don’t work at all. My husband stood over me as I lay on the floor several mornings ago at 4 AM. I had fallen out of bed and I was still dead unconscious (I’d taken two Ambien instead of one). I won’t do that again.

As experts have warned, my bed is no longer my friend, but something to be feared and avoided. Advice includes getting out of bed when sleep doesn’t come, and going to another comfortable place to read. My cushiest chair is in my office, next to our bedroom. That should be easy enough. Other solutions besides tea or drugs have been offered. I’ve been referred to Kaiser’s palliative care support team including a social worker. I’ve spoken with them about getting household help as well as emotional support.

While my cardiologist is currently on vacation, his on-call replacement added two more medications to my daily roster of 12. No thank you. I do have to make a decision about a newly suggested cancer drug, but not until we (my oncologist and I) have looked at my scheduled CT Scan. I don’t have to make the decision now.

We (my husband, my adult daughter and I) traveled across the country last week to be with my East Coast family. We all saw this as respite from long months of illness. I ordered a wheelchair at every juncture for my husband to ease his now chronic pain in walking in and from various airports and I warned the family member picking us up in Boston that Murray wasn’t very mobile right now. I rented a car in case it rained and my nephew could not pick us up by boat. I paid a higher than normal price to be sure we could cancel the rental if the weather cooperated. We three were prepared to have to change plans at any juncture along the way, and to be flexible with each other and ourselves. Our motivation and flexibility, plus our willingness to stay in the present, got us to Boston and back, gave us a speedboat ride across Boston Harbor (who gets picked up by boat at an airport?), and allowed six glorious days at a most beautiful setting with siblings, spouses, children, nieces and nephews. Oh, and we ate fabulous food along the way.

So what is happening right now? It is a beautiful Saturday afternoon in the East Bay. The sun is warm and there is almost no wind. My friend Sandy and I met for lunch at our new favorite Asian restaurant and had a leisurely chat. I’ continue to read Obama’s very long memoir, and I plan next to sit among my roses in the backyard, and read — perhaps with my eyes closed.

My life is changing. I can feel it. I’m no longer the invincible, super active, super grandma. I’m beginning to understand that in some ways my body is working against me and may continue to do so. I’m beginning to understand that what I’m feeling — both physically and emotionally — may not be temporary. So now is the time to reflect on what a different me might be and whether I can accommodate that difference.

I’ve written about happiness for more than 25 years. It seems that NOW I’ll need to learn how to find a new version.

--

--

Sara Orem
Sara Orem

Written by Sara Orem

Sara speaks about and facilitates workshops for older adults about vitality in the aging process . See more about Sara at www.saraorem.com.

No responses yet