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~Thru My Eyes~
May 12, 2003
In 4 days I’ll be 53. The first thing that comes to
mind when I think of the age “53” is dad. Dad died at the age of 53.
Spooky number for me. A challenge, a test. Will I survive this year?
Mom did..she far surpassed it. Mom’s the bionic woman. She’s
struggled, suffered the agonizing pain of cancer. Mutilation of her
body. The paralization and dementia of stroke. The crippling pain from
spine injury. And still she goes on. As if driven. She refuses to stop
moving, living, loving, giving.
In this year, my 53rd, I struggle. I suffer. Diagnosed at the age
of 48 with a genetic liver lung disease named Alpha1 Antitrypsin
Deficiency, I live every day to the fullest. Or try to anyway. At times,
the ring around my butt from the pity pot is more than obvious, but
that’s ok. I’m allowed. My pity parties don’t last long. Well, not
too long anyway.
I’m charmed. That’s what one person told me once. He told me I was
“charmed”. When I asked him what he meant by that, this stranger, he
told me that he could see the light and promise in my eyes. He told me I
had an ambience about me that was like that of moths attracted to an old
porch light on a balmy summer’s eve. I liked that. I really liked
that.
But ya know..I can feel that light shining inside me. It’s the light
of promise and hope. As long as I can wake, I can take a breath
..there’s hope. Where there’s hope, there’s promise. So it comes
full circle so to speak. I have a very warm uplifting feeling inside me.
And there’s my “silver.
I used to be such a control freak. I used to be so out of control. When
I didn't have anyone to control I’d fall apart. One day I learned how
to not control. I learned to let go. I learned to go with the flow. And
it’s really ok. It was then, when I learned to let go the panic
attacks stopped. The anxiety washed away from me, free falling, like
rain on a spring day. April showers bring May flowers, and Sandie was
reborn.
And now, today, I want my children to learn the lessons I’ve
learned. I want my children to feel the incredible feelings I feel
inside. What’s it’s like not to care if you don’t have the perfect
life. What is the perfect life anyway? As far as I’m concerned it’s
what you make of it. LIFE is what you make of it.
I want my children to know what it’s like “not to care” if you
aren’t the owner of the baddest, fastest car..or the biggest house..or
the boat, or the clothes. It’s OK to not be top 10 on the most popular
people list. Who gives a flying fudge anyway? The more we want, the more
we get. The more we get, the more we want.. That’s enough to drive the
sanest of us insane. Keeping up with the Jonses’ syndrome. Once upon a
Sandie fairytale, I used to be one of ‘them’. I was trapped in the
deep dark pitted recesses of trying to keep up. Trying to impress. What
was I really doing? Filling one empty hole inside myself with
“stuff” that couldn’t, wouldn’t really satisfy me. It wasn’t
“stuff” that made me happy. Well, yea ok, maybe for the moment. But
only for the moment. When the novelty of the new stuff wore off I had to
have more, and more. Never quite satisfied, never quite happy enough. It’s ok to struggle, to do without, to go without. It builds
character.
Today, almost 3 years to the day since Dennis left me, I am a happier
woman. I am whole, yet not complete. I live a simpler life. I have less.
I need less. I want less. I’ve found out what “treasures” really
are. I’ve realized what’s really important and not “what” but
“who” I cherish the most in my life. As long as it’s functional,
I’m satisfied. If it gets me where I want to go, shelters me, keeps me
warm in the winter, cool in the summer. If it feeds me, quenches my
thirst, makes me feel safe and protected, if it pleases my eye, makes me
laugh a deep, full gut wrenching belly laugh, if I can hear it
chime, or if it makes me dance in my seat, if it mellows me out and
soothes my soul, then I’m happy. These are the simple things in life.
The pleasing, satisfying comfort creatures of life.
My life, my emotions, myself don't come attached to a price tag. I bear
no conditions to the love I give freely. I happen to “hate hate hate”
conditions! I only ask that what I give be returned. To get love
one must give love. To get respect one must give respect. Criticism
doesn't bother me. We all have opinions. And they come as freely as the
assholes they’re attached to. I bear no grudges. My soul "sisfriend"
told me once and I quote “your opinion of me is none of my
business”. I believe in those words. Think of me what you will. It’s
your opinion, not mine, and you’re entitled after all. My darlin
lil sis tells me repetitiously how “easy” I am. I replied back,
hell, if I’m as “easy” as you suggest me to be, I’d be rich by
now. Well, we see how true that is. But if she refers to ‘easy’ as
vulnerable, then yes, I supposed maybe I am. That’s ok too. Because that
vulnerability is a part of my charm and ambience that so endears others
to me, n’est pas? <smile>. I’m easy to talk to. I’m easy to please. I’m an easy mark and I love easy days.
Nothin wrong with that friend.
Today, 5 years after my diagnosis my illness has progressed. Scared?
Hell yea. Giving up. Hell no! I’ve lost alot of lung function. But I
still push myself. The old adage, use it or lose it rings true. Same
goes for these lungs which look more like Swiss cheese n mold lately.
Nonetheless, they’re my lungs and I’ll push them to the max. I miss
the days of running. I walk slower now, but in that slow graze I miss
less than I used to when I was hurriedly running here and there. I
miss the days of playing on the beach, but I can still sit and watch the
ocean beckoning to me, feel it’s cool crisp sea spray on my face. I
miss the days when I could dance all night long. But I can still feel
the power and the color of the music which vibrates throughout me. And I
can still do one hell of a mean chair dance. I miss the days when I could
perform gymnastics in bed with my lover. Today I’m a more sensual
lover. Slower is better <smile> I can still soak in the sight of
trees and sunlight, birds, flowers, children playing, my grand-daughter telling me
“nana I wuv you, can I come ova?” My grandson’s face lighting up
as he reaches for me when I walk into the room. My grandson Ryan asking me
questions about life. My son hugging me and telling me that when he
grows up he wants to be just like me. That to me is what my life is
about.
My children. Watching them struggle, learning from their lessons,
feeling their pain, relating. Remembering when I was their age. Trying
to guide, yet standing far enough away, now, to give them space to
get bruised and battered, then start over again. No one said it was
easy. My heart has been broken a million times, but it always heals in
the light of one of my children’s small successes. <o:p></o:p>
Today it hurts to live, but it hurts more not to live. Today I live with
more discomfort and pain than I ever thought I would for the young woman
of 53 that I am. I feel 30 on the inside, my body won’t allow me the
luxury of responding to my heart’s desire. My body responds like that
of a 65 year old. It hurts to walk up stairs. It hurts not to be able to
breathe.The body aches and fatigue when I’m down with another
infection. The desperation as I try to lift my weak body from bed in
fear that I’ll pee myself cause I can’t quite make it to the
bathroom. The fitful sleep as I battle fevers, it seems to never end.
Week after week after week. But still, I refuse to give up. And I still
can see the good in things. And I refuse to sit in the lap of
negativity. It can get bad, but it’s never “that bad”. Nothing’s
ever “that bad”. This too shall pass.
I’ve made alot of choices this past year. Some good, some not so good.
But regardless of what choices I’ve made, they were my choices to
make. And for whatever reason I made them, no one has the right to judge
or take those rights away from me. I’m still learning my own lessons,
indeed. And with each new day, I’ve made mistakes, but I’ve also
achieved and conquered. I’ve been oppressed, but I’ve also been
enlightenened. And again, all because of choices I’ve made. And I’m
not sorry for one choice I’ve made. I’ve learned to love in a way
I’ve never loved before. I’ve loved 4 men this year. All in
different ways, but love nonetheless. For whatever reasons it did or
didnt work out is insignificant. The gift of the part of them they gave
to me I hold deep inside me and they’ll always be with me. Once Sandie
loves, she never really ever lets go.
I’ve also learned to love myself. And today I’m my own best friend.
I’ve learned it’s ok to depend on myself and for all the family and
friends who’ve “been there” for me, at the end of the day I have
to look at that woman in the mirror. And it’s that woman in the
mirror, thru my eyes, I must depend on the most to get me thru another
day. And she will.
Sandie ^i^
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