We don't have many things guaranteed to us in this life, unless we want to count some trouble, some taxes, and death. (Woah, that sounds totally discouraging. Don't take it like a downer, I'm just throwing out the reality. Chin up.) Many western thinkers feel that most of life ought to be sunshine and roses (and oh, how I wish it were, wouldn't that be lovely?) with some crap sprinkled in. I am not sure if the rest of the world thinks that. It seems to me that if you lived with the expectation that life mostly sucks and is mostly a great deal of work with a little play and small trinkets of happiness, you could rejoice in the little joys (not to mention the big ones!) a lot more deeply.
You're probably thinking that sounds really pessimistic, but actually, I am an incorrigible optimist. I think embracing the fact that most of life might not go the way you want it to allows you to be really happy and appreciative when sunshine pokes through. Those who figure life better be a herd of happy unicorns dancing on sparkly rainbows are going to get their feelings squashed daily - when someone takes "their" parking spot at Trader Joe's (or at the gym, WHAT THE HECK), when the neighbor's dog takes a dump on their lawn, or when their favorite tea cup breaks (#firstworldproblems).
But sometimes it just really sucks. These last two weeks have brought many troubles - people dying too soon, a friend going through a divorce, and an old friend being diagnosed with cancer. When you have to stand in the middle of that and your world is shutting down and the walls are falling in, you feel the overwhelming sense of being crushed, and the mourning floods in on you. It presses on your chest, it takes your breath away. When it hits you, it is gut wrenching, and the sobbing comes from so deep down in your stomach that your brain doesn't think in words anymore, it just rips through feelings, slices your insides and tosses your organs on the table. You can't imagine doing anything except for curling up wherever you may find yourself (the couch, the bed, the floor, the grass, the glass-shard covered cement), submitting under the weight of the pain, and not getting up (also, someone please, toss a blanket over to cover up my head, no pillow, these shards will do nicely, thankyouverymuch).
Strong people have gone through some stuff. They've wrestled this beast before. You won't be strong if you let it win, though.
You get to have that time. You get to eat cake for dinner or skip eating entirely. You get to lay sideways and wish that you could dissolve into the carpet. When you have gone through a jarring experience, a wild perspective and life change, I suggest that you take that horrible ride. But that ride has an end. You can't spend the rest of your life on that ride. Yeah, it seems like it won't ever end, and you'll never get off. That comes with the territory. It's inherent to swan diving out of your expected reality. And for a long time out (maybe even ~58.5 years, +/- 10-40), you'll have times when you get hit in the head and the heart and you'll feel yourself falling down again. It's not weak. It's a fight. The weak give up when they're pushed over. Stand up again and fight.
But how? What does that look like?
I can't answer that for everyone. I can only tell you what is helpful to me. If it helps you, I am glad for it.
If you've made it off of the floor, get yourself up. Go exhaust yourself. Demand extreme physical fatigue of yourself until you have no strength left. Push your body as hard and as far as it will go until it silences your insides. Sobbing is optional. Praying is recommended.
When your body is debilitated, burn through your brain. Challenge yourself so hard that you can't think straight. Read crazy stuff, take a class (in a secondary language on a subject you're weak in), write, study, paint, create, bake, work.
And now, when the river floods you, pull out the good. Bring up the sunshine. When your brother or child dies, remember their life. Remember their smile. Be thankful for the time you were together. Their memory won't ever go away, and in that they are still with you. When you walk through a divorce, be thankful that you got to experience a relationship, a marriage. Remember the good and the sweet from those wonderful times, and be thankful that you shared a life with someone and walked through things together, even though it didn't turn out the way you thought or hoped it would. Pack them up in a box and tuck them in your soul. When you stand there and hear that you have cancer, take a deep breath and love on all of the people in your life and be thankful that everything around you has become exponentially more precious.
It sounds disgustingly cliche, but things happen for a reason. This life is orchestrated. There is hope. It's not how you wanted it, but that's not to say life will always be a crapper. Let it mold you into a person who can be more compassionate because you have walked through the fire. Let it fuel you to show more love to everyone around you. Don't waste your pain.
The LORD is near to the brokenhearted, and saves the crushed in spirit. (Psalm 34:18)
Peace, love, and a crazy gigantic super long squitchy hug,
Ms. Daisy
Oh! The soreness!
Yes, it's wimpy, but the pool was closed and I was unable to swim for eleven days (shoot me now). Yesterday I was back in the pool getting a chlorine fix (not kidding, I didn't soap my skin so I could sniff that stuff to full potential all day long; swimmers, you know what I'm talking about) and I was so excited, I went ballistic. It was a distance day, which is great as I'm training for a distance swim, but if you're a swimmer, you know that being out of the pool for more than three days makes you feel like you forgot how to swim entirely and that the water has converted into a special form of molasses, which extrapolated its intensity during the six minute swim. Oh, joy. It also helps when the last set called is an all out one, since you've spent it and burned it up already since you thought you were done (who even calls crap like that!). But, alas, you cannot back down, because you see people next to you going off the wall doing butterfly, so you push through, grinding your teeth and squinting your eyes, making faces underwater and hoping nobody will much notice.
And then you get out and go home. And die.
(After you eat 3 breakfasts. Duh. Hello, fresh eggs from my favorite chicken, I love you.)
And then you sleep weird and your neck feels like you must have been in a secret car accident that nobody told you about, so you are doubly awesomesauced.
What to do in a situation like this?
(I know. It's SUPER common! I'm here to help, what can I say.)
You have a few options:
1) Drink a bunch of ice wine and you will be able to ignore the neck pain for a few hours.
2) Go to the chiropractor.
3) Get a massage.
4) Massage yourself with special elements of torture.
Let's explore the pluses and minuses of each option.
Option 1: Ice Wine Fix
This is probably the best tasting option of them all, with massage following closely behind for slot 2 (that's it's own kind of delicious). However, my ice wine hookup involves whenever people I know go to Canada and go get some and bring it back, which means you have to rely on other people traveling to yonder lands. It is also expensive, with the whole "one grape only gives one drop of wine" and people harvesting it at midnight by hand thing going on. It's really kind of snobby and posh, but due to the high demand and low availability, this option falls into a category of less than practical. Sad. And also, you (and by you, I mean "I") could potentially become an alcoholic. (But seriously, if you're going to Canada anytime soon, you better bring me some.)
Option 2: The Chiro Solution
This is a good option, but depending on the chiro, there is a temptation for them to keep telling you to come back next week, which means that you are cutting time out of your schedule and money out of your pocket. When you're really messed up, you need to suck it up and do it. But really, I don't think you ought to be a once a week-er, unless you really were in a car accident (and that only for a time). If you are in severe acute pain, you should just go do it. I have had myraids of times where I could not turn my head or walk (I do all my own stunts), and I went in there and was fixed up in fifteen minutes. The problem arises when you moderately screw yourself up on a regular basis and don't want your husband to know that you went a little crazy because then he'll be all like, "You are pushing it too hard, you need to stay home and rest." (Which is the only thing that makes your rage level hit one thousand because HELLO, you should never rest. And are you telling me what to do?) Being that he notices the outflow of cash, he'll pick up on your antics if you're going to the chiro every week and kabosh it in two seconds. So keep this card in your back pocket for emergencies only, like when you literally cannot walk without tears falling down your stone-cold face.
Option 3: The Way of the Massage
Everyone knows that this is an amazing option. You cannot argue one bad thing against it, except for the fact that it is ridiculously expensive, and if you're debating whether to get a massage or feed your children organic chicken, I have to go with the organic chicken every.single.time. (#firstworldproblems) The last massage I got left me half conscious, drooling, underneath the magic hands (and feet, it was ashiatsu) of my famous masseuse friend, Kelli B. I don't know how I drove home. Not even kidding. It was a new form of a drunk coma. I opened the windows and tried to drink water to keep myself alert enough to make it without running over all the everything in the way. I think I was successful. (Maybe that's when I got into a secret car accident. Huh. Interesting.) Anyway, if you've got cash to burn, take this option. If you're cheap, go with #4.
Option 4: Inflicting Pain Upon Yourself With Specially Designed Objects of Torture
This is the option for when you need relief now, you want it without paying for it, and you are desirous of hearing yourself make that laugh-cry pain of pure joy. You know what I mean, right? When you are so sore, that you need to get the pressure on it, but by doing so, you feel simultaneously pleasure and torture at intensity level 99 exploding out of your muscle(s). It's pretty much the best thing ever, but it causes you to laugh, hyperventilate, and cry all at the same time. I choose this option on a regular basis.
But what instruments of torture to use for such a special occasion? I have two that seem to do the trick. The first is the original Backnobber. If you've got a spot next to your shoulder blade that JUST NOBODY CAN FIND, but dear sweet glory, you wish someone could elbow it in vicious punishment for you, but they CAN'T, this is the tool for you. Have you seen it? It's this S-shaped ditty that you can put right into that pain spot, and pull forward at whatever pain level is suitable for you (ranging from eyes closed and smiling to blood involuntarily squirting out of your eyes). You pick. You can keep it in the car, it is light, travels easily. So nice!
The other is the Rumble Roller. It's this foam tube covered in nobby glory. There are smooth (and less expensive) foam rollers, and they have their place, but if you want involuntary tears, you need the Rumble Roller. With this, you can put it on the ground and roll out your legs, back, neck, armpits, whatever. Your body weight dictates the pressure, which seems to be just about right for torture level awesome. Just this very morning I was rolling around torturing every large muscle group on my body. Pure awesome torture right at your fingertips. What more could you want? I know, a massage. I meant for free.
So if you've got some muscle soreness and you want to whimper like a baby girl, I recommend the instruments of torture. After they're purchased, they're free for your continual and perpetual use. Yay. Pass me a sip of your ice wine while you're at it, would you? Thanks, you're a dear.
Peace, love, and roll with it,
Ms. Daisy
But sometimes it just really sucks. These last two weeks have brought many troubles - people dying too soon, a friend going through a divorce, and an old friend being diagnosed with cancer. When you have to stand in the middle of that and your world is shutting down and the walls are falling in, you feel the overwhelming sense of being crushed, and the mourning floods in on you. It presses on your chest, it takes your breath away. When it hits you, it is gut wrenching, and the sobbing comes from so deep down in your stomach that your brain doesn't think in words anymore, it just rips through feelings, slices your insides and tosses your organs on the table. You can't imagine doing anything except for curling up wherever you may find yourself (the couch, the bed, the floor, the grass, the glass-shard covered cement), submitting under the weight of the pain, and not getting up (also, someone please, toss a blanket over to cover up my head, no pillow, these shards will do nicely, thankyouverymuch). 
And now, when the river floods you, pull out the good. Bring up the sunshine. When your brother or child dies, remember their life. Remember their smile. Be thankful for the time you were together. Their memory won't ever go away, and in that they are still with you. When you walk through a divorce, be thankful that you got to experience a relationship, a marriage. Remember the good and the sweet from those wonderful times, and be thankful that you shared a life with someone and walked through things together, even though it didn't turn out the way you thought or hoped it would. Pack them up in a box and tuck them in your soul. When you stand there and hear that you have cancer, take a deep breath and love on all of the people in your life and be thankful that everything around you has become exponentially more precious.
