The Phases of the Moon

The day after I injured my back in August 2015, I somewhat reluctantly (and painstakingly) dragged myself out of bed in Whistler to participate in day 2 of my pre-paid festival events. I was nervous about how I would feel having to watch from the sidelines knowing myself as someone who feels absolutely deflated as a forced spectator (so much so that I couldn't even support my own ringette team this entire last season because every time I thought about watching them play I was overcome by sadness). I was in incredible pain and barely able to move, but I knew I would feel better outside in the sunshine and surrounding myself with the positive vibes of the community rather than being all alone in my hotel room watching terrible reality TV. As soon as I showed up at my first session, I was delighted to find out that it wasn't what I was expecting at all, but rather a discussion (woo hoo no moving!) about the Lunar Cycle and how it relates to our lives. Some might call this fate or merely a coincidence, but all I know is that is what exactly what I needed in my time of crisis - to be included.

We talked about the different phases of the moon and how in takes one month to move through all the all of them. Learning about the lunar cycle at that time also provided me a powerful metaphor for life that I would like to share with you here. This last year has been particularly difficult for me due to the challenges associated with my back injury. Outside of my personal stuff, I felt I needed to write this because I have been witness to so many of my friends who are also struggling in their lives right now. "Successful", talented, ambitious people, who have so much richness in their lives are being overcome with despair and hopelessness. The theme seems to be that we are realizing that the lives we imagined we would have when we were children aren't turning out as we had thought. Even though we know we should feel grateful and happy for all the blessings we have, we feel guilty because we can't shake feelings of inadequacy and sadness. Some of my friends even chose suicide recently to deal with their troubles. This is serious stuff and will certainly take more than keeping a Gratitude Journal (although I do recommend it) and some self-help books.

I have a confession to make - in January at my lowest, darkest point in my healing journey, I stared into the abyss and considered leaving this world as well. For those who have never been to that edge this may sound scary and troubling to you but I speak openly about it now so you know it's OK to think those thoughts. I'm OK now. My path this last year has also lead me to others who have experienced similar challenges and it was when we would talk freely about these moments of pure weakness to each other that made me feel the most united with them. One moment stands out for me: I was introduced to a stranger while I was score keeping at on of my old teams' ringette games. She had also had a herniated disc and went through all the same pains and fears (and eventually the surgery I'm still waiting for). But in between all the other facts and memories she so seamlessly mentioned "those days you think stepping out in front of a moving bus isn't such a bad idea" and it was the first time in my life I nodded in complete understanding just as I would have if someone had just told me how great they feel after going for a run. You're probably thinking something like "wow, that girl needs a counselor" or "she should be on anti-depressants". I know, because those are the reactions I received from the people I was closest to.  I certainly appreciated the concern from my family and friends... indeed, it was their love and support that saved me. I am forever grateful for my brother who showed up at just the right time, my boyfriend who stayed by my side through it all, and for my friends who reminded me I wasn't alone. But even then I knew what I really needed was patience, hugs (so many hugs!) and self-love... not drugs. For some of you, medication might be exactly what you need, but it's an individual decision you have to decide for yourself and not something that should be forced on you by others.

Now back to the discussion about the moon. In our little group, sitting on dew-covered grass, we talked about how in our present society we typically focus on the full moon - those times in our lives that we shine brightly, when we are at our peak of performance or our pinnacle of youth. These are the moments we celebrate and strive for. Media is full of young, healthy, vibrant people. So many of us spend a lot of time, money and effort searching for the fountain of youth, getting the next promotion at work or achieving our idea of "success" in life. And then when we accomplish our big goals we invite all our friends over to enjoy a meal with us under a "congrats" banner and colourful balloons. What we typically forget about is all the time spent practicing, learning and failing leading up to our full moon... or the "OK what next?" that happens afterwards.We can't be a full moon forever, and we're not meant to be, so why is it the only time we appreciate?

At my darkest time I felt no hope for my future and certainly saw no moon in my sky. But it was in this time when I did the most learning and growing. It was was when I needed to have the most courage and dig deeply for my inner strength. I had to be vulnerable to others and let them see me on my knees (and at times they literally had to pick me up off the floor). We need to acknowledge and honour these struggles because it is in these moments when we develop our self-awareness and our compassion. The moon at this phase is called a New moon. The think the name is fitting as it is like a re-birth. I certainly felt like I was starting from the beginning... learning how to move again, learning new daily routines to support my recovery, and learning how to think positively when faced with a situation I used to be able to do but couldn't do then.

If you are going through a difficult time right now... if you are feeling despair, hopelessness and helplessness... remember that this phase too shall pass. Your moon will wax once more and become full again, I promise you. I didn't think it would either, but somehow it did. Conversely, don't try to hold on to that full moon either because it will eventually wane one day as the cycle continues. Falling is part of getting better. Honour your struggles as much as your successes, and let go of your need to shine brightly all the time. And, if you need someone to celebrate that you are entering into your waning gibbous moon phase, you know where to find me (I think it would be fun to have a banner with the word gibbous on it).

The good, the bad and the ugly things about Answers

'The worst moments in life are heralded by small observations' (p. 225) The Martian by Andy Weir

Last night as I was about to head out to a Field Leader Course (or more accurately - a distraction I enrolled in to help me feel like I am moving forward in life), and got a text message from an unknown number, "Are u able to come in for your mri now?". I did have a moment of hesitation filled with frustration that the only productive 3 hours of my week were now in jeopardy... but of course finding answers to healing my body trumps all else in my life. (Side note: it is true what the Greats say... having clarity around your goal makes being able to say "no" to anything that deflects you from achieving it much easier). Getting the MRI so fast (a couple weeks after getting my doctor to refer me) is miraculous in itself... and the only answer I have to that is that I have angels watching over me. If you know me, you know I'm not religious in a traditional sense, so angels are what I'm going to call the infinite love that exists in the universe... I could have had to wait much, much longer, but somehow I am one of the lucky few who had the stars align. Being inside the MRI machine is an experience in itself, one that I can only describe as oddly relaxing, as you are forced to calm your mind and body for half and hour or more. Perhaps my previous mediation practices were meant to prepare me for that moment (I naturally find it incredibly challenging to be in stillness, however I now realize it is an important skill).

Of course, the MRI technician isn't allowed to make any formal observations... but together we looked at the images and could tell something was incredibly wrong... I could see my L5-S1 disc was oozing out into the rest of my body. Not really what anyone wants to see, but also what I had suspected from the beginning. The last half a year have been challenging to say the least, as I was pushed around by doctors and physios and chiros and laypeople into thinking it was a strained SI, tight muscles, a bulging disc (getting closer), pelvic rotation and muscle imbalance, arthritis causing nerve compression where nothing can be done and just "deal with the pain"... I now have an answer! The good news is the fear of uncertainty is no longer crippling, the bad news is surgery is the most likely option and also the one thing everyone said is "not an option at your age", "must be prevented at all cost", and "will only cause more damage and problems later in life". The ugly part is now I have to wait some more before the results get to my doctor, who happens to be the same one who told me nothing was wrong with my and just keep taking anti-inflammatories for the pain... forever (Ok, I might have added the 'forever' part). To say I'm angry, that I was showing many signs of a herniated disc (for 6 months on Feb 1) and I had to fight just to get an MRI referral, is an understatement. I guess it's true with everything in life though... some times people are just plain wrong, and no matter what anyone else says you have to listen to yourself, be persistent, and believe there is a way. And sometimes those angels help you out when you need it the most.

I'm reading The Martian by Andy Weir right now. When I first picked it up I had just finished reading Chris Hadfields' An Astronauts Guide to Life on Earth. I thought it was strange and a little silly I happened to pick up two space books at Chapters at the same time without realizing it. Chris Hadfield wrote an amazing book that I highly recommend. One part of his book that resonated with me was when he talked about having a medical scare that almost prevented him from going into space. He talked about how the "Canadian way" of just trusting that the system will work and that the best outcome will be realized isn't always the right mindset to have. Chris talked about how you sometimes have to take it into your own hands, educate yourself, keep digging and digging, and fighting for answers. It was his persistence and tenacity (along with the support and help of his family) to convince the powers above that he was fit for space. If he just sat back knowing that he would be fine and hoping NASA would see it the same way, he would have been turned away because people are afraid of risk and even the highest paid professionals are biased with the lens they see the world. It was in this moment I was inspired to fight back and make things happen rather than merely praying that my doctor will know best. Thank you, Chris.

Now back to The Martian... the first few sentences really spoke to me - "I'm pretty much fucked. That's my considered opinion. Fucked." I found it a little profound how Andy knew the thoughts in my head, word for word, when I first injured my back 6 months ago. It's been a long road getting to where I am now. I'm about 2/3 of the way through the book now, and it's interesting to note that in the book Whatney (the protagonist who is alone on Mars) and I are kind of paralleled in our own personal fights for survival. We've both had moments where we feel hopeless, but also are quick to get back to figuring out how to keep going. Set backs and new hope... then more set backs. His resourcefulness and positive attitude keep him alive. At this point in the book Whatney is getting ready to take his final trip, a big risk, a last ditch effort, all cards on the table kinda move. I feel like I have also been faced with a similar fate - that of the risk of surgery as my only option for survival. It will be a long road of patience and healing, and the fear of more uncertainty (of the surgery itself and of future complications). But I guess that's the beautiful thing about answers... once you have it, the only choices you need to make are to take that path, honour the struggle, and make the most of it.