Staying Present in Discomfort: Being Here When You’d Rather Not

Title image: Photo by Tolga Ulkan on Unsplash

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Thank you everyone for your patience during this time of my father’s passing from cancer and dementia. I have appreciated the quiet visit to my childhood home, supporting my mother and being comforted by close friends and relatives.
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There are times that the present moment is an uncomfortable place to be in.

That’s when things are not going well and you want the current situation to be over so that you can move past it and onto healing. But one could argue that this is exactly the time you need to sink even deeper into the present moment.

And even more important to get more granular and still. To observe what is going on even more closely. To understand the important of this very point in time, how it will never come again in the same way. And even in this discomfort there is something to learn, something to lean into, something to accept.

I felt this strain while my father was still in in-home hospice, declining at a pace that was both quick and slow depending on what you’re focusing on. It evoked an axiety in me: wanting to hold on to him and save him–but knowing that this was an impossibility. The tug of time is unrelenting, taking everything with it like a glacier or a tsunami that continues onward no matter what is in its way.

But this is also an opportunity to remember that the impermanence of life does not take away from the joy and beauty of it. Dropping down into what is happening right now, taking a front seat on top of that glacier/tsunami, and allowing everything to be here is the way to appreciate all of this.

So while I would rather that the things that were happening not be happening, I couldn’t stop them. I sat here trying to understand my feelings and allowing gratitude for my father’s long life to remain in the forefront. There was peace in knowing that he was living his last days at home, in familiar surroundings with my mother there.

I could have made all sorts of stories up about what he was feeling or thinking, but the reality is that I didn’t know. So I didn’t pretend and instead noticed the sounds around me, the feeling of the air on my skin and the knowledge that my father’s imminent passing unscored all the many things about him and my own life that I have to be thankful for.

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It’s easier to ignore reality and think about other things, but that doesn’t help us deal with them.

The Upside of Chemo Brain

(Title image: Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash)

As I’m stumbling through a bad cold, I got a reminder that you can find good stuff in bad situations.

Let me see if I can string this together somewhat coherently…

The cold I have came with an eye infection (relax, not posting pics!) that makes me light-sensitive enough that I need to be chauffeured around. Went to the doc last week, got a prescription for eye drops, then swung by to do some shopping, which I needed to wear sunglasses for.

And as I’m picking my way through a busy Costco, I’m holding onto a phone that I just bought–has a case but no screen protector yet–and I’m really worried that I’m going to drop it or lose it if I get distracted.

And why do I get distracted? Because anxiety and a touch of chemo brain (aka Cancer-Related Cognitive Impairment (CRCI)) have a summative effect that makes me loopy. Not a “scare-your-children” kind of loopy, but a constant “what-was-I-just-doing” kind of loopy. Over and over and over again.

I’ve been dealing with this over the past couple of months while juggling stressors. My eye infection introduced a new wrinkle–I am very much a visual person and use visual cues to manage the anxiety/CRCI problem.

But the good news? The Memory and Attention Adaptation Training (MAAT) classes I took for managing CRCI focused on mindfulness as a way of dealing with the lapses in memory.

And when I was in a Costco bathroom stall, I realized that I was acutely aware of where all my things were–purse on the door hook, phone on top of the toilet paper dispenser. I was ALL THERE and 100% present. I couldn’t afford not to be.

Not an earth-shaking revelation, but it was another reminder that there are all sorts ways to ground ourselves in the present. If I hadn’t taken the MAAT class I don’t think I would have felt so confident that what I was doing (being mindful) would work so well to help me stay focused and aware.

So, yes, I can be grateful for chemo brain for that.

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Today my vision has improved to the point where I can tell that the kitchen floor is really dirty, and that is most unfortunate indeed.

Coffee Break: A Mindful Start to Your Day

(Title image: Photo by Mindspace Studio on Unsplash)

So, now that we’re a week into 2024, what a great time to set an intention for the New Year.

For me, it’s going to be “stress less and move forward”. At least I’ve got the “moving forward” part planned out, as there will be a lot of changes in my life this year.

It’s the “stress less” part that trips me up. So I’m redoubling my efforts to make sure that mindfulness takes priority in my daily activities, and one of the best ways to do this is to see how I can make everyday tasks into moving meditations.

I present to you, the coffee break. Tea works as well, even better, it could be argued. Regardless of your preference, this is how the break works (and obviously, this should be adapted to your own situation):

Wow, I can literally smell this image and the aroma is glorious!
(Photo by Mae Mu on Unsplash)

When you arrive in the kitchen (or wherever you keep your coffee, I’m not judging), bring your attention to your hands. Look at them. Notice the temperature of the air on them. Flex and straighten your fingers…and then observe your hands open the cupboard and remove the container in which you keep your coffee–mine is a metal cannister–along with a stack of paper coffee filters.

My cannister is has a pretty blue and green pattern on it and it feels cool to the touch, nice and smooth. As I open the top, the scent of coffee fills the air. I savor that for a moment.

Set the container down by the coffee maker and pick up a coffee filter. Mine is cone-shaped. Notice if the paper feels coarse against your fingertips and how it sounds as you handle it. Nestle it into place inside the coffee maker.

What does your running water look like, sound like, feel like?
(Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash)

Then, back to the coffee…and fish out the scoop (mine invariably gets buried under the grounds), spooning out however-much coffee you want. Listen to the “crunch” of the grounds as you do so.

Transferring the coffee into the filter may elicit more aroma during the process. What does it sound like as it falls onto the filter? When done, replace the scoop and then the top of the coffee container.

Whatever water container you user–mine is a plastic water jug, perhaps yours is the coffee carafe itself– bring that to the sink, place under the faucet, and turn on the cold water.

Does the faucet handle feel cool to the touch? As the water runs, notice whether light shines through the stream or if it’s aerated and fizzy. Listen to the sounds of water flowing through the plumbing and into your water container. Perhaps there’s a cool splash.

Such a peaceful start to the day. Inhale…
(Photo by Clay Banks on Unsplash)

When filled, turn off the water, noticing whether the handle makes a sound as you turn it. Bring the water container to the coffee maker and as you pour the liquid, listen to how it runs in, watching the waterline rise.

Close the coffee maker’s top, press the requisite buttons and savor the sights, sounds and smells of the coffee as it brews.

So as I mentioned above, depending on your own situation, your experience may vary, but the main idea remains the same: when you are in the process of making morning coffee or tea, be IN IT. Invite your senses to this event and, perhaps most importantly, keep unrelated thoughts out of it.

Start your day with a mindful ritual like this and it will help carry that attitude of staying present into the rest of your day. Give it a try and enjoy the calm!

Managing Expectations: A Reflection

As I sit at home waiting for the stormy remnants of what used to be Hurricane Hilary to pass by, a bit of reflecting…

There is a saying attributed to Buddha: “The root of all suffering is attachment.”

While there is much that can be and has been written about this, I’d like to bring it down to something very concrete in my life.

It seems so simple, this letting go of our expectations. But we humans are hard-wired not to do that!

One of the wonderful attributes that we as humans have is the ability to plan. Yes, that’s been evidenced in very clever animals, but humans take it to a whole new level.

Where that incredible gift fails us is that in the process of planning, our goals and expectations become very real in our minds, and if they don’t play out as we had anticipated…well, sometimes we don’t deal with the disappointment well.

For instance, in such situations I experience stress and anxiety. Others may react with anger and frustration.

Regardless of the outlet (whether handwringing or yelling), it’s safe to say that the outcome is not pleasant for anyone. And yet letting go is hard when we are really counting on the expectation being realized. Or perhaps even worse, when we get lost in thoughts of how things could have been.

Consider this scenario: let’s say that following a leak in our apartment and subsequent slow repair process, two months later our water-damaged kitchen cabinets haven’t yet been replaced.

But wait, I get word that the cabinets are coming finally coming in this Friday, August 25th and will be installed the following Monday (28th)! Expectation established! And it’s not a small one because most of our kitchen and the entire dining room have been sitting in the living room area for over eight weeks.

Oh, how difficult it is to sit with what’s happening in the present moment — we’re always looking to see what’s up ahead or somewhere in the past. The greatest peace I’ve ever felt is to simply be here.

WOW, do I want this to get fixed! We have a house guest arriving on Wednesday the 30th who is supposed to sleep in the living room. Weeks ago, when she arranged to visit, I was sure that all the repairs to our apartment would have been done long ago. But now, between the cabinet installation and her arrival, I don’t have a lot of time to clear out the mess and get everything back in its place.

I cannot let go of the need for everything to go smoothly. But while I’m struggling with the burden of that need, I’m simultaneously living through the stress of, “oh no, what if it doesn’t work out that way???”

So there you go, a double-whammy. All this because although I know better, I latch on to how I want/need things to be. Either expecting perfect success or total disaster.

Letting go will never be as easy to do as it is to talk about. But in my brightest moments, I am able to step outside the confines of my thinking, move out of myself and get perspective on the present situation, accepting that I cannot predict and shouldn’t expect too deeply. That’s when I experience the highest level of calmness.

And then, as will happen, I forget and sink back into my small, highly personal mind, where I once again cling to having things be a certain way.