Breathing Room

I spent the majority of this weekend wearing various colors of a paint can, while I took on the challenge of converting our basement to my office.

There is something so unbelievably rewarding about the labor of love (as I sit here scraping the paint from under my nails between sentences).  It's been years since I painted and as soon as I wore the first splash, I felt like I was in a war to create this space to be my own.

If I'm honest, I would say that this last six months I've been holding my breath.

(Okay, maybe 9 months by now.... )  

This really isn't the way any of us living here drew this up.

All of us unemployed and co-existing in the same walls all day long.

Mattingly is supposed to be gone somewhere playing baseball.    Mal is supposed to be at the park 24 hours a day.  And I am supposed to be the only person in the office that we 'thought would be fun if we both had our desks in the same room.'

I never thought we would be actually in it at the same time.

Every day.

Two feet apart.

I can hear Mattingly's phone buzzing above me and Mal's typing sounds like a herd of elephants are being attacked in between frequent calls for technical assistance.

Unlike him, I require complete and utter solitude to work.

I kept thinking that "this too shall pass", "nothing is permanent" and all those other niceties I would tell someone else who was in my shoes, and I woke up every day believing that at some point, something magical would change.

I would get a job.

They would get jobs.

PLEASE, someone get a job.

(Please note that Mattingly now has one.)

I wasn't writing.

I didn't have any space that was quiet long enough for me to get in a zone to write.

I thought about going to Starbucks or to the library  - but those ideas weren't long term solutions.

Don't get me wrong.   I am truly grateful for the time we had together but I wanted everyone else to get their situations sorted out, so that once that happened, then I could find my own way.

***

I was walking along the beach, like I do many mornings, when I realized I needed to stop waiting for the situation to change and figure out how to adapt to it.

I needed to create my own breathing room, not wait for it to be given to me.

A personal sanctuary, my wellness cave, a place I can go and write, breath, think, read and be where I can't be distracted by anyone else.

My very own breathing room.

***

Here it is.

My very first post from my new space.

Let me take a deep breath and look around.

The wall color I picked is called Silver Linings.

(I actually call it Meditation Blue.)  

It is calming and zen-like down here and the sun is coming in from the east.

(I'm just kidding.   I don't even know where East is.)  

See??   I'm giddy being down here.

Maybe there isn't enough oxygen supply?

But it is sunny.

All my books are beside me.

My vision board is ahead of me.

Right dead center on the board is a sticky note.

It says "An hour a day.   One room at a time".

It's a reminder of the progress we can make by just committing one hour a day to absolutely anything.

This is my happy place.

Sometimes we wait for things to happen, or get frustrated because the plan isn't unfolding like our intention - without understanding that this itself, is a lesson in flexibility.

"In our lives, change is unavoidable.   Loss is unavoidable.  It's the adaptability and ease by which we adjust and experience change, that lies our true happiness and freedom."

A Matter of Perspective

I was recently asked if I was sure I was happy with my new career.   
When I said I didn't understand what that meant, I was asked "do you not think it's beneath you?"

Hmmm......

Beneath me?

Is anything really "beneath" any of us or is it all just the angle you view it from?

***

A few years ago, I was cleaning the office bathroom when a colleague told me there was "lower paying people" to do that and it was a waste of a high paid salary if I was scrubbing a toilet.

I explained that I would never ask anyone to do any job that I would not do myself.   

We were having a problem getting employees to clean the bathroom and I wanted to make sure that before I asked a Graphic Designer to put that on their To-Do list, that I had set the example first -  no one is exempt from looking after our work space and chipping in.

I will do the morning coffee run, empty the garbage, be the first to open the office or the last to leave and close it up and even fill the photocopy paper in the mail room when it's empty.  

There is absolutely no job function that is beneath me, and a majority of the time, if I need help, I usually receive it (hopefully) because of how I relate to others.

(I cannot fix the printer though.   I cannot get a scrunched up piece of paper out of a photocopier to save my soul).

***

Reflexology is an interesting twist in my career, without question.

I have been leading a team for as long as I can remember, and all of a sudden - no one is calling in sick, I have no budgets to complete, no schedules to create, no performance management issues to address, no cost efficiencies to find.

I have 60 minutes to make an impact with a client.

Professionally and clinically with the treatment, and emotionally with conversation, if that's where it leads, or to knock them out cold (which I'm also becoming quite proficient at).

In 60 minutes and 70 volunteer clients, I have coached smoking cessation, divorce counseling, career guidance, inspirational visions for workshops and leadership retreats, and convinced at least one person to try something they were afraid of.

Not bad for a girl giving foot rubs.

But I also met Matt.

Working with Matt is a blessing and the only appointment I currently take as a house call.

Matt is a perfect example of why I love this work.

***

Matt likes the Foo Fighters.

He has a vinyl album in a frame on his wall.

He likes great coffee and good scotch (Well, I think he once did) and I think he likes Star Wars.   

Maybe I made that up but I'm pretty sure he likes Star Wars.

He likes going to dances with his wife Carol and they go out to the Legion whenever there is a local event scheduled. 

(But you have to go upstairs, not downstairs where the 'old people' go.   Or was it the other way around?)

Sometimes my memory gets a little foggy because I'm trying to focus on what he's telling me and remember all the steps for my treatment to him at the same time.

But I know he hates country music. 

That much is very clear.

He definitely hates country music.

***

In 1992, Matt was 15 years old and training to be a camp counsellor at a Summer job.  

He tripped going into the lake, and in one split second, his entire world changed.  

He was left with a spinal cord injury and a broken neck.  (In medical terms, his C4-5 and 6.)

It is unfathomable to think that twelve years later, he faced a second tragedy, involving his parents in a horrible car accident.  

His Dad was driving, his Mom was in the passenger seat and he was in the back.  

The crash resulted in even further injuries to Matt.  

He acquired a brain injury, broke both hips and attained nerve damage severe enough to cause a tracheotomy, ileostomy and limited mobility in his left arm.  

His Mom didn't survive.

***

When I treat Matt, he has to be air lifted into his bed and then the height gets adjusted up and down by a remote control.

I listen intently when he speaks and I can hear the click of the air going into the tube every time he takes a breath to tell me a story.

I pause when his legs spasm and just place my hands gently on him until it stops.  Some days there seems to be much more than others.

***

He is funny and witty and has an absolutely brilliant zest to living life.   

They are always going somewhere.  

Music festivals, shows, markets - I am constantly quoting "Matt and Carol said we should go here..."

I joke around with him and tease him about not liking country music and just enjoy his company.

I secretly think that's why he likes my visits.

We just talk.

It is so easy to underestimate the incredible power of human connection and genuine conversation.

***

I try to imagine the grief Matt and his Father have to cope with.

I imagine the courage and bravery Matt has had to find to mentally and physically overcome two horrific accidents in his lifetime.

I think about the strength and patience Carol is equipped with to support her husband so beautifully.

***

Matt reminds me of how important gratitude is - for life, for breath and for love.

He reminds me not to take anything for granted because there are no guarantees on tomorrow.

These visits ground me and remind me we are more than the container we live in and that our attitude is truly everything.

***

When I reflect back to the question - do you not think this is beneath you? - I am left with the same thought every time.

It is a gift.

A gift to meet new, interesting and wonderful people.

A gift that enhanced my wellness knowledge and set in motion my quest to learn more about holistic leadership so I could teach it.

This is one peg on a Lite Brite box but it's too early for me to see the full picture. 

(if you are too young to know what lite brite is.... lucky for you, you can google it.)

I am humbled to serve, to learn and grow in a new environment where I am not the leader. 

I am grateful for a different lens to look through.

It's all just a matter of perspective.