Roller-coaster metaphors have been popping up around me a lot over the last few days. And while they do seem to match this particular part of my life path, I'm really not fond of them. The jostling, the racket of the track which never changes, being surrounded by people having the same ride and screaming their own experience into the air. That's *really* not my cup of tea.
I've been describing this period of impending transition as "Taking a leap with all the materials necessary to build a parachute on the way down." While it's funny and gets most of my point across, it's not exactly the metaphor I'm looking for either. Even though I don't know what's out there and I'm not sure how it's going to happen, I still believe pretty strongly that this leap is about creating and experiencing new heights much more than transforming potential energy into a wild kinetic ride only to land (hopefully softly) on the ground somewhere below.
There is A LOT of faith involved in making my current life choices. It's the kind of faith that invites fear to get the hell out of the way. It's not that I'm fearless or reckless or even particularly courageous. It's that my life is so full of love and blessing that I really don't have much choice but to know that things will work out in their highest and best good.
So, no. This is not a roller-coaster. And these materials aren't for a parachute after all. This is a hang-glider I'm building, and soon I'll be soaring with the eagles. This is stepping off a cliff knowing that my body and support system will be able to sense and ride on the invisible but powerful thermals that are just waiting out there to lift us up.
This is my love-note to all the people in my life who make up my hang-glider. The ones who stand straight and strong against the buffeting gusts. The ones who wrap close and hold tight. The ones who stretch wide and flutter and giggle in the breezes. The ones who bend into the wind and help me get where I think I want to go. Thank you for making the space and time for me to try my wings.
This is also a love-note to Spirit. Who sings in my heart, whispers in my ear, and lifts my feet off the ground.
It is the wind asking me "How good can you stand it?"
And my reply, "Even more than I can imagine tonight!"
Showing posts with label control freak. Show all posts
Showing posts with label control freak. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Saturday, May 2, 2009
SEAF Public Opening Night
The SEAF planning/production team and volunteers kick ass! This is one hell of an event. I'm one of those people who had mixed feelings about some of the past year's festivals. While I was excited to be in the show this year, I honestly didn't expect it to be this fantastic. The space, the art, the program, the tech-crew: awesome!
I got to see even more of the art with Russell taking a more methodical approach to the gallery. I also got to lurk around my x-ray and watch complete strangers react to it. That was fun.
I don't have any pictures of last night's outfit. I wound up wearing the body hose tonight rather than the dress I'd originally planned on. Friday was supposed to be about seduction and texture and the body hose has that in spades. It also gave me an excuse to wear my hair down because I fully planned to flirt and find people to join me in the dress, and there is no number of bobby-pins large enough to hold a hairstyle together climbing in and out of a tube multiple times. When I arrived it dawned on me that dress sharing wasn't going to happen when we were all strutting about the gallery seeing and being seen. So I waited patiently for the after-party to start and planned to have a little fun with a friend out on the dance floor.
Here's the thing though, when the lights went down and the after-party started I realized these weren't "my people" attending this part of the festival. I've become completely spoiled at the Wetspot. I just don't go out to normal clubs and I forget what drunken otherwise overly-inhibited people do when they have an excuse to let go a little. All my alarm bells went off saying I would likely be spending more time whacking people away than dancing. My friend and I agreed that the dress dancing would have to wait for a Grind. Russell and I left very shortly there after (but not before seeing a truly talented pole dancer show her stuff).
Again, my own personal version of a SEAF after-party was my favorite part. I started typing this post before bed last night while sitting on the couch in my dress full of unused potential. When I noticed the post was going to be more than a few sentences to get my ideas out there, I set it aside and went to snuggle a very sleepy Russell. I didn't bother to take the dress off, and managed to get Russell to join me inside. I really like watching skeptical people try the dress and realize how much cozy fun it is. I'll spare you most of the details, but suffice it to say the body hose makes a nice bedtime companion as well.
Ok I'm off to a workshop. Then it'll be time to get ready for one more night of fun and craziness this weekend.
I got to see even more of the art with Russell taking a more methodical approach to the gallery. I also got to lurk around my x-ray and watch complete strangers react to it. That was fun.
I don't have any pictures of last night's outfit. I wound up wearing the body hose tonight rather than the dress I'd originally planned on. Friday was supposed to be about seduction and texture and the body hose has that in spades. It also gave me an excuse to wear my hair down because I fully planned to flirt and find people to join me in the dress, and there is no number of bobby-pins large enough to hold a hairstyle together climbing in and out of a tube multiple times. When I arrived it dawned on me that dress sharing wasn't going to happen when we were all strutting about the gallery seeing and being seen. So I waited patiently for the after-party to start and planned to have a little fun with a friend out on the dance floor.
Here's the thing though, when the lights went down and the after-party started I realized these weren't "my people" attending this part of the festival. I've become completely spoiled at the Wetspot. I just don't go out to normal clubs and I forget what drunken otherwise overly-inhibited people do when they have an excuse to let go a little. All my alarm bells went off saying I would likely be spending more time whacking people away than dancing. My friend and I agreed that the dress dancing would have to wait for a Grind. Russell and I left very shortly there after (but not before seeing a truly talented pole dancer show her stuff).
Again, my own personal version of a SEAF after-party was my favorite part. I started typing this post before bed last night while sitting on the couch in my dress full of unused potential. When I noticed the post was going to be more than a few sentences to get my ideas out there, I set it aside and went to snuggle a very sleepy Russell. I didn't bother to take the dress off, and managed to get Russell to join me inside. I really like watching skeptical people try the dress and realize how much cozy fun it is. I'll spare you most of the details, but suffice it to say the body hose makes a nice bedtime companion as well.
Ok I'm off to a workshop. Then it'll be time to get ready for one more night of fun and craziness this weekend.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
The 80/20 Rule
In my favorite class from grad-school ever ("Non-profit Management" of all things), I was introduced to the 80/20 rule. Essentially, when one embarks on a sizable task a vast majority (say 80%) of the progress is made during the initial piece (say 20%) of time and energy invested. This was used in the context of starting up non-profits and exercising. Part of the point of the discussion was to evaluate whether 80% was enough to meet the needs of the initial project thus freeing up a significant chunk of time and energy for other projects. It's hard for perfectionist, control-freaks like myself to grasp, but sometimes "good enough" is really truly "good enough" Other times though that 20% of change and improvement has a big enough over-all impact to merit the 80% energy investment.
At three months after surgery I feel like I'm 80% percent back. I can work full days, I can shake-it at Grind, and now Max can safely tie me up again. Basically, all systems are go.
So what might I spend the next 80% of my time and energy working to accomplish?
Growing a back bone (literally), regaining muscle, training my body to be flexible in different ways, increasing stamina, and other boring, slow-changing stuff. Also safely supporting my body while in full suspensions, picking on Kaylee until she wears out before me, wrestling with Russell, and swing dancing. Those are all things that fell solidly into the "not sure if I'll get them back" category when I started this journey, but I think well worth the effort.
And honestly, if I can get into this (NSFW) position just three months after being barely able to walk down the hallway, I don't see any reason not to keep going forward.
At three months after surgery I feel like I'm 80% percent back. I can work full days, I can shake-it at Grind, and now Max can safely tie me up again. Basically, all systems are go.
So what might I spend the next 80% of my time and energy working to accomplish?
Growing a back bone (literally), regaining muscle, training my body to be flexible in different ways, increasing stamina, and other boring, slow-changing stuff. Also safely supporting my body while in full suspensions, picking on Kaylee until she wears out before me, wrestling with Russell, and swing dancing. Those are all things that fell solidly into the "not sure if I'll get them back" category when I started this journey, but I think well worth the effort.
And honestly, if I can get into this (NSFW) position just three months after being barely able to walk down the hallway, I don't see any reason not to keep going forward.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
...One Step Back
I've been making lots and lots of forward motion the last week or so. It was time for me to have a small step back. That doesn't make it any easier.
The forward progress has been great. I'm down to one or two pain pills per day (compared to 8-10 when I first got home). I'm pretty darn mobile and surprisingly self-sufficient when I need to be. I still ask for help on things to save my stamina, but if I had to stay home alone for 24 hours, I think I could do it. I've been able to reclaim a few more of the playful and intimate things I like to do with my partners (no orgasms for me yet, but that's a different post). I'm even hoping to take a field-trip to a corn maze with Russell and Kaylee (who've never been to one) on Friday.
Tuesday I was feeling like I'd gotten complacent--less focused on actively improving my health--and wanted to get back on the focused track so I set a couple goals. They were pretty simple; prepare and eat a good breakfast, get showered and out for a walk before noon, spend more time writing thank you cards and less time idly web surfing.
I woke up Wednesday morning irritable and sore, but I went to bed with goals for the day so pushed ahead. Breakfast--check. Shower--clumsy and slower than usual, but check. Out for a walk--at the turtle's pace of two weeks ago and the pain in my back was a lot more acute (like someone had hit me with a bat or pipe right across the spine just below the ribcage--it hurt to exhale). The rest of the goals for the day went right out the window. New plan: be still, rest, try to get feeling better before company showed up at 6:00.
It more or less worked. I had a friend from work drop by with pizza and really enjoyed chatting with her. But when our game-night friends showed up and I was already starting to fade (not that I would admit that to anyone). As the night progressed I became less mobile and less vertical, but I was enjoying having people and something to do so much I wasn't about to give in. Sure, today was a backwards step when considered with the last week, but they didn't have to know that. I was still capable of fun conversation even if I wasn't hopping up to be the hostess with the mostess.
Only now it's 4AM and despite the pain pills that usually make me drowsy I'm wide awake and dreading trying to sleep. I'm afraid to move my body and tweak that spot again. But I know with some more quality rest and a little distance from the really bad pain I can start moving forward again tomorrow. So here goes...
The forward progress has been great. I'm down to one or two pain pills per day (compared to 8-10 when I first got home). I'm pretty darn mobile and surprisingly self-sufficient when I need to be. I still ask for help on things to save my stamina, but if I had to stay home alone for 24 hours, I think I could do it. I've been able to reclaim a few more of the playful and intimate things I like to do with my partners (no orgasms for me yet, but that's a different post). I'm even hoping to take a field-trip to a corn maze with Russell and Kaylee (who've never been to one) on Friday.
Tuesday I was feeling like I'd gotten complacent--less focused on actively improving my health--and wanted to get back on the focused track so I set a couple goals. They were pretty simple; prepare and eat a good breakfast, get showered and out for a walk before noon, spend more time writing thank you cards and less time idly web surfing.
I woke up Wednesday morning irritable and sore, but I went to bed with goals for the day so pushed ahead. Breakfast--check. Shower--clumsy and slower than usual, but check. Out for a walk--at the turtle's pace of two weeks ago and the pain in my back was a lot more acute (like someone had hit me with a bat or pipe right across the spine just below the ribcage--it hurt to exhale). The rest of the goals for the day went right out the window. New plan: be still, rest, try to get feeling better before company showed up at 6:00.
It more or less worked. I had a friend from work drop by with pizza and really enjoyed chatting with her. But when our game-night friends showed up and I was already starting to fade (not that I would admit that to anyone). As the night progressed I became less mobile and less vertical, but I was enjoying having people and something to do so much I wasn't about to give in. Sure, today was a backwards step when considered with the last week, but they didn't have to know that. I was still capable of fun conversation even if I wasn't hopping up to be the hostess with the mostess.
Only now it's 4AM and despite the pain pills that usually make me drowsy I'm wide awake and dreading trying to sleep. I'm afraid to move my body and tweak that spot again. But I know with some more quality rest and a little distance from the really bad pain I can start moving forward again tomorrow. So here goes...
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Memories of Surgery Day
In less than 12 hours I went from looking like this to looking like this. Here's what I remember about it:
The morning started (as most appointments on this journey have) with a bunch of hanging out in a waiting room. Other patients came in later and went back sooner, but it didn’t bother me all that much because it just meant more time with my family. I can’t say I was in a big hurry to get started honestly. The extra time also gave us all a chance to see that even if my “next of kin” consisted of a group of 4 very important people, the nurses were only going to let one of them come back to the next stage with me. This is a choice I would have liked to be a little more prepared to make, but when it came right down to it, it wasn’t so very difficult. Thankfully I knew there would be no resentment no matter whom I chose.
When the time came, I went back into a pre-op area with Russell where began the unending litany of monitoring my vitals. This is also where I got the hospital gown and was introduced to a nifty new contraption: the hot air blanket—think blanket-shaped paper balloon hooked up to a hairdryer. I met my anesthesiologist (a friendly, practical lady who obviously had horse history), saw my surgeon one last time, and briefly met the circulating nurse. There was, once again, some lag time here so we managed to cycle the rest of my family back one at a time to give me one last good-luck wish. The anesthesiologist poked the first of many IV holes in me and started some relaxation medication before they wheeled me back. Max was the last family member I saw as I went through the doors to the OR.
In the hallway, I was awake just long enough to confirm my suspicions about the anesthesiologist’s horse background. I don’t know why it was such an important observation to me at the time, but it went a long way to helping me feel a little more comfortable knowing we had some kind of shared background. It was REALLY cold in the OR. I was fading fast after the second dose of relaxant, but vaguely recall meeting the Neuromonitoring specialist and the extremely apologetic nature of the nurse as she stuck a bunch of cold electrodes to my torso. I was unconscious before they stuck any more probes in me or hooked me up to the catheter—Thank Heavens! I remember nothing about the surgery.
Waking up was not as smooth a process. I was face-up when I woke up. I remember having full-body chills and shivers. They quickly put a bunch of baked blankets on top of me that seemed to calm things down a little bit. Then I was out for a little while again only coming to when I heard people trying to figure out which room to put me in. My finely tuned “communication error!!” alarms woke me right up. The plan beforehand was that my family would know which room I was assigned and they’d be there waiting for me when I rolled in. When no one was there, my anxiety level went way up. I tried to be patient, figuring someone would go get them quickly, but either my sense of time was off or none of the staff understood my request the first time. I had to throw a first class fit go get someone on staff to go find my people who were waiting and worried about me. This is a part of the process I wish there had been more amnesia drugs to erase.
Speaking of wishing for more amnesia drugs; I wish I could forget how upset my mom was when she saw me. Parents of scoliosis surgery patients really truly should find someplace else to be that first night. Mom wound up staying that night and trading off watching over me with Russell. Do I wish she hadn’t been there? Absolutely not. She did what she’s always done my whole life. Cared for me the best way she could and more than anything else in the world. Do I wish she didn’t have to go through that? Absolutely. I don’t recall all of what I needed from Mom and Russell, but I’m still very glad they were there that night. I just wish it hadn’t been so hard for them.
The morning started (as most appointments on this journey have) with a bunch of hanging out in a waiting room. Other patients came in later and went back sooner, but it didn’t bother me all that much because it just meant more time with my family. I can’t say I was in a big hurry to get started honestly. The extra time also gave us all a chance to see that even if my “next of kin” consisted of a group of 4 very important people, the nurses were only going to let one of them come back to the next stage with me. This is a choice I would have liked to be a little more prepared to make, but when it came right down to it, it wasn’t so very difficult. Thankfully I knew there would be no resentment no matter whom I chose.
When the time came, I went back into a pre-op area with Russell where began the unending litany of monitoring my vitals. This is also where I got the hospital gown and was introduced to a nifty new contraption: the hot air blanket—think blanket-shaped paper balloon hooked up to a hairdryer. I met my anesthesiologist (a friendly, practical lady who obviously had horse history), saw my surgeon one last time, and briefly met the circulating nurse. There was, once again, some lag time here so we managed to cycle the rest of my family back one at a time to give me one last good-luck wish. The anesthesiologist poked the first of many IV holes in me and started some relaxation medication before they wheeled me back. Max was the last family member I saw as I went through the doors to the OR.
In the hallway, I was awake just long enough to confirm my suspicions about the anesthesiologist’s horse background. I don’t know why it was such an important observation to me at the time, but it went a long way to helping me feel a little more comfortable knowing we had some kind of shared background. It was REALLY cold in the OR. I was fading fast after the second dose of relaxant, but vaguely recall meeting the Neuromonitoring specialist and the extremely apologetic nature of the nurse as she stuck a bunch of cold electrodes to my torso. I was unconscious before they stuck any more probes in me or hooked me up to the catheter—Thank Heavens! I remember nothing about the surgery.
Waking up was not as smooth a process. I was face-up when I woke up. I remember having full-body chills and shivers. They quickly put a bunch of baked blankets on top of me that seemed to calm things down a little bit. Then I was out for a little while again only coming to when I heard people trying to figure out which room to put me in. My finely tuned “communication error!!” alarms woke me right up. The plan beforehand was that my family would know which room I was assigned and they’d be there waiting for me when I rolled in. When no one was there, my anxiety level went way up. I tried to be patient, figuring someone would go get them quickly, but either my sense of time was off or none of the staff understood my request the first time. I had to throw a first class fit go get someone on staff to go find my people who were waiting and worried about me. This is a part of the process I wish there had been more amnesia drugs to erase.
Speaking of wishing for more amnesia drugs; I wish I could forget how upset my mom was when she saw me. Parents of scoliosis surgery patients really truly should find someplace else to be that first night. Mom wound up staying that night and trading off watching over me with Russell. Do I wish she hadn’t been there? Absolutely not. She did what she’s always done my whole life. Cared for me the best way she could and more than anything else in the world. Do I wish she didn’t have to go through that? Absolutely. I don’t recall all of what I needed from Mom and Russell, but I’m still very glad they were there that night. I just wish it hadn’t been so hard for them.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Bleedin' Schedules
The first round of blood donation did not go as planned. On the up side, my hemoglobin
count was nice and high (15.3 on a scale where the acceptable range is 12-15.5). Unfortunately the phlebotomist did not stick the needle in quite right so I bled incredibly slowly. The nurse then came over and tried re-adjusting the needle (A LOT). Once again skills acquired while doing kinky stuff came in quite handy in a completely vanilla context--hooray for pain processing. After 20 minutes of having to stand by me and hold the needle in place to get any blood at all, she decided there was probably a clot in the needle and stopped the operation with less than half a unit gathered. The whole thing will go to waste now and rather than having 2 weeks between donations, I'll only have one.
In better news, my inner control freak is pleased to note I'm getting a bunch of my to-do list scheduled across the weekends in September.
count was nice and high (15.3 on a scale where the acceptable range is 12-15.5). Unfortunately the phlebotomist did not stick the needle in quite right so I bled incredibly slowly. The nurse then came over and tried re-adjusting the needle (A LOT). Once again skills acquired while doing kinky stuff came in quite handy in a completely vanilla context--hooray for pain processing. After 20 minutes of having to stand by me and hold the needle in place to get any blood at all, she decided there was probably a clot in the needle and stopped the operation with less than half a unit gathered. The whole thing will go to waste now and rather than having 2 weeks between donations, I'll only have one.
In better news, my inner control freak is pleased to note I'm getting a bunch of my to-do list scheduled across the weekends in September.
- This weekend I had a delightful date with Max yesterday, a good walk in the woods with Russell today, and a Mom-visit scheduled for tomorrow.
- Next weekend is all about the spinny rides: I'll be doin' the Puyallup with friends on Saturday and then a very pretty lady will be stringing me up by a pencil swivle at the club Sunday night.
- The weekend after, I'll get in a pile of woods time. I'll be "camping" with Kaylee and a couple girls from work.
- The weekend after that is the long-awaited getaway weekend with Max.
- The Thursday after that (the 25th) I've arranged to stay at my local club after hours with a few friends to get video and possibly stills of the way I dance before surgery. I'll be sharing some of those here on the blog. The rest of that weekend will be dedicated to unstructured surgery/recovery prep.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Control Freak Much?
Despite the fact that my life is going really well lately, my brain chemicals have been giving me troubles. This led to a strange thought process last night.
I started thinking about what would/should happen if I become one of the tiny statistics and don't make it out of surgery. Now I'm not tagging this post with "worrying" because I'm actually not worried about that happening at all. If I tag this post it will be with "control freak" instead. Here's a little picture of my brain:
First off, while listening to the Rent soundtrack, I actually sent an email to my mother asking her to request that one of her singing (former)monks return to town to sing at my service with the other two singing monks. (Yes, really, I sent that email to my mother. One of the things I love about my family--bio and chosen both--is that we're not afraid to talk about the awkward stuff.) I'm thinking this has two benefits: I love their voices together and find them soothing and compelling at the same time, and these are some of my mother's closest support network so getting them all together again would help her.
That led me to what kinds of things my chosen family might need to get through it. I decided there wasn't much for me to do around that since what they'll really need is each other. I have no doubt that they will find a way to come together even those who are scattered across the country.
Then my mind wandered to the ever-present difficulty with those of us in the kink community. Obviously there will need to be two gatherings, I just couldn't decide if the straight one should happen in my old home town or here in Seattle. Eventually I decided Seattle was a better option so that my Dad wouldn't have to travel as far and people from work could make it too. Precisely where to do the straight one in Seattle isn't all that important to me--maybe Discovery park to get some woods time . The kinky gathering could happen at the Wetspot or maybe out at Paradise. Honestly, I would just want my family to do what worked best and easiest for them. I would also want it to be CRYSTAL CLEAR to everyone that people of any persuasion are welcome to either gathering so long as they understood and respected the nature of the thing (eg. no reminiscing about that wild scene I did with so-and-so at the straight one and no wigging out about the weirdos/perverts at the kinky one).
The whole line of thought ended with me seeing one of my family members commenting on my control freak nature that compelled me to leave these kinds of thought in writing somewhere.
Oddly, one of the reasons I'm not afraid of dieing during surgery is that I have a really fantastic life and family right now. I'm very happy with what I've done and the people I've touched and the things I learned. I have plenty to live for.
I started thinking about what would/should happen if I become one of the tiny statistics and don't make it out of surgery. Now I'm not tagging this post with "worrying" because I'm actually not worried about that happening at all. If I tag this post it will be with "control freak" instead. Here's a little picture of my brain:
First off, while listening to the Rent soundtrack, I actually sent an email to my mother asking her to request that one of her singing (former)monks return to town to sing at my service with the other two singing monks. (Yes, really, I sent that email to my mother. One of the things I love about my family--bio and chosen both--is that we're not afraid to talk about the awkward stuff.) I'm thinking this has two benefits: I love their voices together and find them soothing and compelling at the same time, and these are some of my mother's closest support network so getting them all together again would help her.
That led me to what kinds of things my chosen family might need to get through it. I decided there wasn't much for me to do around that since what they'll really need is each other. I have no doubt that they will find a way to come together even those who are scattered across the country.
Then my mind wandered to the ever-present difficulty with those of us in the kink community. Obviously there will need to be two gatherings, I just couldn't decide if the straight one should happen in my old home town or here in Seattle. Eventually I decided Seattle was a better option so that my Dad wouldn't have to travel as far and people from work could make it too. Precisely where to do the straight one in Seattle isn't all that important to me--maybe Discovery park to get some woods time . The kinky gathering could happen at the Wetspot or maybe out at Paradise. Honestly, I would just want my family to do what worked best and easiest for them. I would also want it to be CRYSTAL CLEAR to everyone that people of any persuasion are welcome to either gathering so long as they understood and respected the nature of the thing (eg. no reminiscing about that wild scene I did with so-and-so at the straight one and no wigging out about the weirdos/perverts at the kinky one).
The whole line of thought ended with me seeing one of my family members commenting on my control freak nature that compelled me to leave these kinds of thought in writing somewhere.
Oddly, one of the reasons I'm not afraid of dieing during surgery is that I have a really fantastic life and family right now. I'm very happy with what I've done and the people I've touched and the things I learned. I have plenty to live for.
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