It's good to be back....

So....my dear, poor neglected blog. I am back to populate you with words & thoughts and show you a little love. You're a little droopy and forlorn, but we'll get you back in shape in no time.
Yeah, I've been absent. 2013 wrapped wretchedly; my father passed in the wee hours of September 9th of Myelofibrosis with myself, my sister and my mother at his side. It was difficult, as death is, but not unexpected. My own grief took a long time to grapple with, but as someone who does process work for a living, I continually do my own work as well.

The grief counseling I did prior to my father's passing, and the grief counseling I did following it--as well as regular attendance at the Kaiser Hospice Bereavement Group helped me enormously. There is real comfort in being with a group of people who know and understand loss.

Unfortunately, a week and a half after the memorial service, just as I was preparing to resume my life as a Higher Education coach at InsideTrack, my mother's heart went into A-fib and threw off a clot which lodged in her upper left thigh, resulting in a transfemoral (above-knee) amputation of her left leg.

To say I was in shock was an understatement. Perhaps at some point I will publish the personal essay I composed about that whole transitional period of my life.

Long story short, my mother has exceptional coping skills, has done a lot of work on herself, and is incredibly resilient. Today, after months in a rehabilitative skilled nursing facility, she is back at home, has a prosthetic, and recently walked up and down a 24-stair flight (required by her physical therapist, who doesn't take no for an answer). She is just as poised and elegant and put together as she was prior to losing her leg. And she laughs when she's referred to as a gimp.

We have all adjusted. Life throws you curveballs, and either you acknowledge 'em, or get pretty brutally slammed in the face. Or both. But life doesn't stop when stuff happens. It really is what we do with it all that counts.
And of course, recovery tools were my friend during all this--the slogan, "One Day at a Time" has never been more pertinent.
So I'm back, my blog is back, and just because my cats were such a comfort to me during all that loss and transition, I'm including a picture of them here, lounging on their various trees (Abby is the big girl, Audrey is staring into the camera).
Yeah. It's good to be back.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes......

My goodness, it's been a while. No two ways about it.

The last time I posted was just prior to my accepting a full-time Executive Coaching gig with Inside Track here in Portland on April 30th, 2012--nearly 10 months ago!

Many things have changed since then. Professionally, I moved from coaching students with DeVry Online to coaching students with Cal State Online (the new online initiative for Cal State University students--very exciting!) On a personal note, I moved into a new living space in December--not my preferred month to move, for obvious reasons, but I've moved enough to know that you gotta strike when the opportunity presents itself when a new place comes up that suits your personal criteria. There's a story here.

As a coach, I'm lucky to be equipped with a personal toolbox that enables me to "self-coach" as necessary. I'd wanted to move for quite some time, but the momentum simply wasn't there. So I did a values assessment and got very clear on what the most important top 3 criteria in a new space would be for me; the ability to walk to work was basically number one (cat-friendly & wood floors, as well as non-smoking, were right up there, too).

As soon as I had that personal "Aha!," I found a place that afforded me a lovely, relaxing, centering 35-minute walk to work in the morning (and, as it stays lighter longer, in the early evening, as well). It fell into place very swiftly and easily. Clarifying our values really does charge up our momentum and enable us to gain a LOT of clarity & understanding about the direction we should be heading.

Also on the personal front, I've been supporting my sister and mother as they are the primary caregivers for my father, who is managing Myelofibrosis, a rather nasty/energy-sapping chronic form of Leukemia that involves a lot of hospital trips for transfusions. This is where my (12-step) program comes in handy--in the face of a chronic cancer, all we are truly able to do is take things One Day at a Time.

I've had to be conscious of my own self-care in the midst of so much transition, which involves (yes) those morning walks, enough sleep, acupuncture, and cooking healthfully, as well as my own process work for grief issues when they come up.  And I love holiday goodies and indulged this past season with gusto, understanding intrinsically that it's a moment in time and a celebration that feels good to participate in (and no, I am not one to turn down the gift of Greek Butter Cookies when a friend gives me a homemade box of them!) BUT I do begin feeling the effects of so much toothsomeness, so returning to my vegan/vegetarian home-cooked meals (with very little sugar) has been the best resolution for returning to functional normalcy. The better diet also helps those little pings and pangs that come along with being 47 and starting to feel the (really weird) effects of (sigh!) perimenopause.

At this point, I'm mostly moved in, the cats are enjoying my new futon sofa (or should I say, "THEIR" futon sofa!), it's a sunny but chilly January Monday (MLK Day & Obama's inaugural), and a good day to catch you all up on my months-long quietness.

I hope your holidays were lovely and peaceful, and that you set some great GOALS for the New Year!

See you in February. Stay warm. Peace.

~Caitlin, Embody Life Coaching

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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