How To Not Feel Overwhelmed

Do something.  That's all there is to it.  When we feel overwhelmed we get stuck and the more we feel stuck the worse things appear.
When I was a child the Jeep or pick up truck in which we rode sometimes got stuck in the sand.  There's a way to get out of that situation and there's a way to dig yourself in deeper.
I don't often drive in sand washes even though I do still ride around in a Jeep.
However, I do often feel overwhelmed.
Here's what I've learned and what I've learned about not feeling overwhelmed is quite a bit like not digging deeper into the sand.
The best way to feel un-overwhelmed is to do something.  Doing nothing just allows the stuff to pile up more and more until pretty soon we feel buried alive under our stuff.
Here's the funny thing about that doing something notion.  It doesn't matter what we do.  Action is the remedy to feeling stuck and overwhelmed.  As soon as we start doing something we feel better because we see that we aren't stuck.
Next time you feel like you are being buried by all the stuff you have to do, try just doing one thing.  You'll feel better.
Okay.  Maybe this isn't anything like getting a Jeep stuck in the sand.  At least, though, beginning to write about that got me started on what I really meant to say.
See how simple it is?
Now try it.

When People Offer To Help

Let them.  Take them up on the offer.  I recently sent a friend out to buy toilet paper and aluminum foil.  She was happy to run the errand and I was happy to have the supplies.
In a home of recovery pride and the American spirit of "I can do it myself," have no place.
Besides.  People feel good when they are needed and when they can serve a purpose greater than themselves.
Give the gift of asking people for help.  Especially when the help is already offered.

Wake up.

There are mountains to move.

Life Swirls Around Us

While my life shrunk to a room or two over the long holiday weekend life outside our home of recovery carried on.  While we set alarms for middle of the night medication and before medication snacks other lives began and, on our street, other lives ended.
Monday evening I decided it was time for me at least to step outside and take a walk.  Once outside, it took me a second to realize that the street was packed with cars -- blocked with cars.  There was no more room for parking and so vehicles were left where they were.  My only assumption was that somewhere on the street was one really big party.  I thought all that while I chose my music to walk with on my iPod and didn't even notice the woman, weeping, approach me until she stopped in front of me.
"I'm sorry the street is a mess," she said but because my mind was still on music choices I didn't hear her.
When I asked her to repeat her statement she said, "I'm sorry the street is a mess.  My father just died and our house if full of family."
I took my walk weaving through mourners and still more cars all the while marveling that most neighborhoods hold far more than the eye can see.
As I was about to return home another woman, weeping, approached me and again apologized for the clutter of cars on the street.  I extended condolences and added that it felt strange to be getting exercise in the middle of such sorrow.
The woman looked at me, smiled, and said through her tears, "Well, it's all part of life, isn't it."
And so it is.

I'd Hate To Be A Gallbladder

Or at least I'd hate to be a gallbladder in these times of what we currently call medical phenomenon.  Back in the day gallbladder surgery was a huge undertaking.  These days its almost out patient surgery.  But that's not the reason I'd hate to be a gallbladder.  I'd hate to be a gallbladder because, if I were a gallbladder, no one would miss me when I was gone.  As far as that goes, no one would even know my purpose while I was around and that's way too much of an existential dilemma for anyone to bear.
More information you ask?
Take for instance the Whipple Procedure named after a guy named Whipple out of Slone-Kettering.  His procedure is the number one surgical approach for pancreatic cancer.  It involves removing part if not all of the pancreas, the duodenum and possibly more of the intestinal tract, the common bile duct and with an almost apologetic tone the gallbladder.  Removal of the gallbladder seems like such an afterthought to all of the other seemingly more important stuff.
In terms of removal I think I'd rather be an appendix.  If I were an appendix I could at least take comfort in knowing that parts of very important books were named after me.
Small comfort you say?
Well, just how many times do you flip to the gallbladder in the back of the book?

The Don't All Have To Be Kept In The Air

One thing I've learned over the past several weeks is that when it becomes impossible to keep all the balls in the air it's okay to let a few of them drop.  Not only is it okay, it sometimes becomes essential.  It's also okay or even necessary to ask for help locating the dropped balls.  It's also okay or necessary to ask for help keeping the essential balls in the air.
In families illness doesn't just happen to the person with the diagnoses.  Everyone suffers and everyone lets things drop and slide.  We're human.  Sometimes it takes an incredibly serious illness to prove it to us.

It Must Be Noted

It must be noted that miracles happen.  One might argue that a miracle is nothing more than a positive outcome beyond our ability to comprehend.
However, even the most skilled surgeon must at times marvel at the human body's ability to withstand trauma, reinvent its pathways, and heal.
Such has been our family story for the past almost one month.
Even if the positive outcome is because of a surgeon's skill the miracle becomes, then, that hands have such talent.