I’m a Pusher

Hey now, I’m not talking about anything untoward or illegal involving drugs here! (Um, that was probably obvious, Suzanne. *eye roll*) But I absolutely am a “pusher.” It’s just what I do. I push through hard things. I push past pain. I push myself to achieve things. I push myself to my limits. And while there have been many times my ability to keep going has benefited me and my family, it’s not always a good thing. I was actually really worried about this particular character trait of mine when Kendall died. Without his calming and steadying influence, and him acting as a needed check for me when I was starting to push too hard or neglect my own self care, would I end up pushing myself so hard that I would simply crash and burn? It’s been a real concern of mine.

When I get it in my head that something “has” to be done, then failing or choosing not to do it doesn’t seem like an option. I said I would get the thing done, or attend the meeting, or be at the place, well then, I’ll do my utmost to do it. No matter that I may be feeling overextended, or my body may be giving me signals that I need to slow down and be taking better care of myself. I’m especially prone to neglect this if something needs to be done for one of my children. I would never consider not being at the hospital, or getting them help, or making sure their temporal (and emotional, and spiritual, and mental, and and and…) needs were met. Meaning there have been many times I’ve put their needs in front of my own. I think a lot of mothers struggle with this one, but it can be even harder as the only parent because if you don’t do it, who will?

Except as much as I don’t like admitting it, there are absolute limits, and only so far the human body (my human body), and mind, can be pushed. And I think I may have hit one of those walls this weekend.

I’ve worked hard these past two years to learn how to better manage stress in my life, to deal with difficult emotions, to handle things as they come and not get sucked down into frustration or self pity or despair. I do think overall I’ve kept a fairly good attitude, and I’m very careful to guard against any “Why me?” thoughts. I will not be bitter. Simple as that. I am happy with firmly standing on the side of gratitude and re-centering back to a place of peace, contentment, and even joy. I want to enjoy life and so I do. Truly.

But there are those limits again. When things pile up, it’s not always enough to try and push through and convince yourself to be positive and smile away the stress. It has to be addressed.

There have been numerous external factors in my life these past few weeks that well, are frankly stressful. No other way to describe them. I’ve alluded to some of them on this blog, even mentioned one or two more specifically, but there have been a lot of things I have just been carrying and trying to handle best on my own. (See where the problem might be here, the trying to do things on my own trap I can fall into?)

I was supposed to attend my widow conference starting Thursday last week, but instead found myself once again in an ER room with A for 11 hours, followed by an emergency surgery (requiring two surgeons throughout, a first for us!) fixing some things GI and GJ tube related. It was a long day and night, but I am thankful for the angels who stepped in to help with my other children, came and gave priesthood blessings (to A and myself), brought me dinner (and fed my other kids!), and the friend who stayed with me at the hospital during the surgery and afterward. We’re home safely now and A’s recovery has been much easier than after her surgery five weeks ago. She was up and walking, and able to eat, by the very next day, for which we are grateful. There have still been some post-surgery challenges to navigate, but with the help of many people I was able to make it to part of my conference on Friday and Saturday. Grateful again.

We’re not done with surgeries, though. Later this week we will be meeting with a different surgeon to schedule the extensive hip surgeries A will need for completely unrelated issues (we know she’ll need a hip arthroscopy and periacetabular osteotomy surgery for each hip, but don’t yet know what else). We’re not sure yet of the timing of those, but we do know that she likely will be unable to walk properly for about six months after. So floating constantly in the back of my head the past few weeks has been trying to puzzle out how we will handle those six months living in a split level (no bathroom on the main floor), with doorways too narrow to fit a wheelchair, and A needing extensive care that will be difficult when I’m working. We will figure it out, but I don’t yet know how.

Then there’s been the not really letting myself dwell on my own health issues that are becoming more pressing and harder to simply “push through.” I’ve alluded to the fact that my Raynaud’s syndrome and circulation issues have been much worse since I had Covid. What I haven’t mentioned is that if we aren’t able to make real improvements (I really am hoping that things will get better with warmer weather!), then I could be looking at potential amputation of toes or part of my feet. So not having my mind spiral into the “what if” sector of trying to imagine how I could live in a split level, or drive, or work, or care for my children if, if, if…yep, that’s been floating in there too. Here’s a picture of one of my feet after several weeks of treatment. Normal capillary response is up to about 2 seconds, but mine currently is about 10. Purty, huh?

The medication I need to take for it has some not so fun side effects, but one of the worst has probably been that it can drop my already low blood pressure (but who wouldn’t like an excuse to get to eat more salt, right?), and that along with some other factors actually made me almost pass out at my widow conference yesterday (I would have completely gone down if a friend hadn’t happened upon me right then and helped). I needed my sister to come get me from the conference since I was unable to safely drive. Hardest of all was the realization that I needed to be prioritizing my own health and wellbeing or I was likely going to end up in a hospital. And what good would I be to my children then? They certainly don’t need more medical trauma in their lives.

I do know that there was a physical component of my almost passing out, but I also think there was an emotional one as well. We’re less than two weeks away from the second anniversary of Kendall’s passing, and with everything else going on I know I have not been giving myself the space to sit with and process those emotions. I’ve been helping children with their own difficult emotions, handling their stress responses, dealing with their medical needs. I think my body finally reached a point where it couldn’t handle the load anymore, and it’s giving out a bit on me. I’m still dizzy and shaky, ick, but I can get up and walk now without starting to tip over!

So what to do about all of this? Well, admitting some of these concerns “out loud” is a step. I really will deal with each issue as it comes. I’ll continue to pray for that strength that I know Heavenly Father can give me, but I’ll also admit when I need help. I’ll try to slow down and resist my natural impulse to push, push, push through the hard. I’ll double down on those self care practices that I know are so important, like getting enough sleep, drinking water and being more mindful with my eating, moving my body and staying physically active, checking in to make sure I’m not living in fight (pushing) or flight (ignoring) mode when it comes to dealing with emotions and memories. I will continue to smile and find the humor in all of this. And I will choose to trust that we’ll get through these challenges just like we have so many others. I really don’t doubt that!