Into the Great Unknown, One Step at a Time

The Only Constant in Life is Change. --Attributable to numerous authors

Last time I posted, I'd recently left my day job with a large company and was preparing for a life (for the immediate foreseeable future) of no schedules, no steady paycheck, and lots ofunknowns. I'm still creating my daily structure, keeping to a fairly tight budget, and taking my days one at a time, staying in the present as much as possible.

It's no secret that I'm in Recovery; the benefits of concurrently working a recovery program along with the coaching are mentioned on my website, and I'm also very forthcoming about the fact I've been in Al-Anon for nearly 6 years, and have benefitted greatly from the fellowship and the application of the tools in my own life (yes, I do my own process work/emotional self-care/psychic maintenance! It improves my outlook and makes me a better Life Coach!)

Shortly after having composed that last Blog entry, however, my life has taken an even greater--unforeseen, unexpected--turn; my father--who will turn 80 on October 1st--was diagnosed with Myelofibrosis, a type of chronic Leukemia. Not a lot is known about Myelofibrosis, since it's relatively rare (which is a good thing), but the symptoms can be brutal, and vary with each patient. One consistency among sufferers is that it can be a roller-coaster, and it's definitely already been a roller-coaster for sure--he went along for a while without too much to report until he was admitted to the hospital for a week with sores on his swollen legs, one of numerous very weird/alarming symptoms of this also weird/alarming disease.

I'm worried about my father, naturally; I am also newly wrapping my brain around the very real fact that cancer has now touched our family, and up until this time, we've all been relatively healthy and affliction-free (knock on wood!)

My parents live down in the SF/Bay Area and I am up here in Portland, Oregon, and the geographical distance makes things harder because family members tend to feel a sense of helplessness when faced with chronic illnesses such as cancer--and geographical distance often exacerbates such feelings. It has for me; hearing "news about dad" second-hand and not being able to physically offer support or see with my own two eyes how the disease has transformed him has been troubling.

So how am I coping with this latest "unknown?" I've upped my self-care exponentially. First, I researched Leukemia, came across the Leukemia/Lymphoma Society (whose local chapter is located within walking distance of where I live in Portland, in fact) and began attending their monthly support groups for general blood cancers, which was a comfort; although I was the only non-ill family member in attendance, hearing the perspectives of the other attendees was very helpful to me.

I also began working with a therapist, specifically, because I noticed I was developing ongoing symptoms of depression that needed to be addressed, such as sleeplessness, weepiness, headaches, lethargy, etc., and felt that a therapeutic approach was necessary in this case (as opposed to life coaching, which is a very different process).

And, of course, I've been mindful of my Recovery program; it's a comfort putting myself in Al-Anon meetings, hearing the shares, and "taking what I want and leaving the rest," as we like to say. And more often than not, the shares are exactly relevant to my head space in that moment, and a gentle/humbling reminder that life presents challenges to every one of us in different ways that are no less vexing than what I'm currently facing.

Other self-care rituals involve camping and hiking (the biorhythm of the outdoors is very calming to me), seeing funny & engaging movies (laughter is amazing medicine!), attending church more often, taking long walks, communing with my two cats (petting silky cat fur is instantly soothing--not to mention, they're great objective listeners!), talking to trusted friends, and calling my family much more often; hearing my father's voice--and sharing my concerns, fears and feelings with the rest of the family--is also invaluable.

Yes, life throws us curve balls--even when we may feel like we already have enough on our plates to manage; that's how it goes sometimes. The best thing we can do is center, seek appropriate support (all different kinds), let our authentic feelings surface and honor them all, up our self-care tremendously (yes, FUN is a necessary piece of that!) and stay in the present moment as much as possible.

And, as another Recovery slogan reminds us, "This, too shall pass."

What does your self-care look like?

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