Probably the best way to sum up our time is to share something I said to Jason partway through our time there. I was reflecting on how much I look forward to things, anticipate upcoming events, and often build up expectations that I'm not even always consciously aware of. It often leads to disappointment, because the reality may not match my hopes and expectations. I noted that the one time that doesn't happen is with our times away. They always far exceed my expectations. I'm always reminded how much we love being together, how we enjoy many of the same things, how we actually can hold a conversation where we finish our sentences, that we do know how to play and have fun, and what a gift it is to have a lover and life companion who is also my best friend.
This trip felt like the "real start" to my work break. It was the first "slowing down" of the time without my CJP hat. And it came at a time when a lot was stirring within me. I can't underestimate the gift of having a few days where those stirrings could bubble up and out at any moment and into the space Jason and I were sharing together (with just our four ears!).
We did an excellent job of balancing play, down time, and rest with some much needed conversations and discernment time. We kicked off our first evening, savoring lumpia that Tala had made that day and sent along with us and even risked a game of Upwords. I was intending to test my maturity and see if I had improved on being a good sport. That didn't pan out, since I won even with forgetting to record my score on one turn. So all was pleasant between us.
We spent a good part of our first day+ binge-watching a show on Hulu that had been recommended to me from multiple sources, but was decidedly not a "family show." Each episode of Shrill clearly informs the watcher that the show is only intended for mature audiences. I will recommend it sparingly due to the aspects of the show that might be stretching enough for some that they would not be able to benefit from the poignant and powerful themes woven throughout. For me, the show was perfect it its timing. I laughed and groaned and expanded my vocabulary.
In short the show follows "Annie, described as a fat young woman who wants to change her life — but not her body. Annie is trying to make it as a journalist while juggling bad boyfriends, sick parents and a perfectionist boss, while the world around her deems her not good enough because of her weight." As I am finally coming to grips with the reality that I have experienced disordered eating for most of my life, am still in recovery from an eating disorder and am finally ready to "break up" with diet culture and grieve the body that I have dreamed of but will never have, the show made me angry and hopeful and sad and wistful. A comedy was the perfect way to dish out that content from my perspective, because laughter helped loosen us up to also take in the hard stuff.
It fit perfectly into the mix for me to finishing reading The Gifts of Imperfection by Brene Brown and for Jason and I to continue making some headway in the incredible book by Akilah S. Richards, Raising Free People. So much more could be said, and as always I invite more in depth conversations about any of the deeper life journey happenings alluded to in this "virtual scrapbook."
Wednesday afternoon we enjoyed a little trek to Philippi, WV to visit my aunt and uncle. The hugs felt long overdue and it was lovely to sit and share together about our lives and learnings in their little gazebo.
On the way home, we stopped off at Kroger in Elkins for a "forbidden foods" trip. This definitely gets into the more personal terrain again but it must be included. As I've started looking more intentionally at the treatment strategies for eating disorder recovery and rebuilding trust in one's own body and removing fear of certain foods, the following has been recommended multiple times: it is important to have "scary foods" and those that you say "I can't be trusted around" available to you all the time (if practical and accessible). I will not expound on all the ins and outs of this, but my resistance to this idea was enough for me to know it was probably a good one. I could couch my resistance in all sorts of noble reasons, but in the end I had to admit that some foods do indeed scare me.
So in we went feeling very strange, kinda glad for the face masks and glad that this first foray into purchasing "forbidden foods" would happen in Elkins, WV where we were not likely to run into anyone we knew. We laughed as we walked through the aisles filling our basket. Jason even had to do an ID check in a grocery store for the first time in our married life. As we walked to the car, I marveled at how sometimes healing doesn't look at all like what I expected it might look like. And that sometimes the path takes turns I would have never expected. We continued our conversations over ice cream, candy, pretzels, chips and hard cider. And I felt safe and grounded.
Thursday we really "got to work!" To kick things off briefly on Wednesday, we had spent time reflecting on our "gremlins" (those supposed-tos and what makes us afraid), especially around the theme of cultivating meaningful work, which I had just read out loud to Jason from Brene Brown's book. Then, Thursday, we took a hike up to my uncle's cabin and sat in the pavilion with our journals. We did a bunch of vent diagrams (my new favorite activity) around the theme of "our gardens." In short, a vent diagram is a diagram with two overlapping statements that appear both true and contradictory. It's a practice to help us recognize and reckon with contradictions, as well as imagine and act from those intersections and overlaps. Oh, there are just so many!!
- I feel most alive when working in our gardens--I feel demoralized and utterly overwhelmed in our gardens
- Our gardens are to put food on our table--Our gardens are for broader seed breeding and development
- I don't want to live anywhere else on the earth---I yearn to be free from the relentless pressures of the seasons
You get the picture... And, as we shared with each other there was increased understanding and compassion for the tensions we are trying to hold and live with. And some little "ah ha" moments that I'm holding on to in my memory and are also documented in my journal lest I forget. I went into our conversation about gardens and our future with a fair amount of trepidation since we have a history of those conversations being triggering and difficult for us. But give us 48 hours to play, rest and connect with each other first and we do pretty well!
So I'd love to end the story of our trip there BUT I think I must tell on myself AND do a service to the world and a disservice to the Q-tip industry by issuing a warning: if you are a fan of Q-tips, please use them for craft projects or to clean anything BUT your ears!
I kinda knew it was a bad idea to clean your ears with Q-tips but everyone does it anyway right? And I did for years before we stopped buying them. So, while looking for floss at my parents', I happened upon a collection of Q-tips. I don't know why in that moment I felt inspired, but I think it was the fact that there was nothing I had to do and so I could indulge in the luxury of cleaning the earwax out of my ears. YES, you may laugh AT me (now that I've recovered)!!
Well, it had been awhile. I was not experiencing any trouble with my ears at all but there was plenty of wax there. A minute later the job was done and I went on my way not thinking another thing about it...for a spell anyway. I have a vague memory of feeling a few moments of odd sensations in my ear that evening but nothing striking. We went to bed and the next thing I knew it was about 4 a.m. and I could hardly hear anything with my left ear. Accompanied with my hearing loss was a tidal wave of anxiety and panic, necessitating my waking of Jason to help me get my emotions back in check.
I confessed my earlier Q-tip usage, which gave Jason all he needed to know to reassure him of what was going on. That freed him to just focus on calming down his wife, taking a look at the website of home remedies of cleaning out one's ears, and to try a salt water solution. Nothing worked, but his hugs did enable me to calm enough to fall back to sleep until about 6:30 when I woke with the same ailment and accompanying discomfort. It made me feel a little unsteady on my feet and a tad nauseous.
I was unable to imagine driving over four mountains, so made a desperate call to my parents. My dad was out doing chores (which might have been grace for me, as he would have reminded me to not put anything other than my elbow in my ear), but my mom (another guilty Q-tip user) reminded me of the local Harman Health Clinic.
I am now one of their biggest fans. We called around 8:27 and they got me in with an 8:30 a.m. appt! While we waited in the waiting room, I was able to take in the large cabinet of old medical instruments which had been my grandfather's in the health clinic he had run for decades in Harman. Due to still not being able to hear in my one ear and feeling very odd, I didn't take in specifics but just a warm feeling looking at his photo and all the things his hands had touched and used.
I was called in and after some trouble finding the ear flushing equipment, they worked their magic. I know it sounds very extreme but in the moment when the wax/skin that was completely coating my eardrum released and my healing was restored 100%, I could not help but remember that moment of release when our babies did that final slip out of me. The relief was followed by euphoria. I think the care providers there were clear on the depth of my gratitude. And Jason got a kick out of my giddiness that followed. I kept effusing my love for my ears and apologizing to them for taking them for granted.
And that's about the end of it! It started well and ended well, with just one kinda dramatic hiccup in the middle!!
I hear ya! I disliked my body shape for too long too. Now I wonder who I was trying impress, and seeing pictures of my parents, grandparents, and siblings wonder why I thought that I could re-arrange my dna at this stage of life.
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