Best-laid plans
On August 20, my friend Nancy and I got on a plane, fully expecting to spend two months walking across France on the 450-mile Chemin du Puy. The universe had other ideas.
During our flight to Chicago, I had a “coronary event” and was brought to a hospital once we landed. We returned home two days later, our pilgrimage canceled by the cardiologist.
As you can imagine, it was a tearful few days, but I found myself feeling thankful for a lot of things: that it wasn’t worse (I’m nearly fully recovered now), that it happened stateside, that I had a great friend with me, and that our AoCC team had prepared so well. (They. Are. Amazing.)
A wake-up call
It was a shock, though. I am in my forties and stumped the cardiologists with my healthy vitals. However, one perceptive doctor asked me, “How’s your stress level?” Yes, friends, for all I’ve encouraged self-care over the last three years, the whole painful event was a direct result of stress. (An arterial spasm, if you want to look it up.)
This wake-up call was a gift. I had been running on empty for too long, and it caught up with me. Despite the change of plans, I decided use this gift of a home-based sabbatical for long-term good. Instead of sauntering across France, I gradually implemented the self-care strategies that lead to physical, mental, and emotional health: a media fast, walking, spiritual reading, therapy, meditation, and deep talks with friends.
Along with pounds, I’ve shed the illusion that I personally spin the planet. In these last ten weeks, I’ve learned that while I can do my best, I must also ask for help, let others step up, and make peace with what’s undone. It’s just saner that way. Sustainable. My stress has plummeted, and I feel lighter than I have in years.
How’s your stress?
To be clear, I know that my situation isn’t as grave as most of what’s going on in the world. I share my story because I’m sure there are others (maybe you?) who carry more than their share of work and emotional labor. Like me, you may feel guilty for not doing more at times. Or perhaps you feel overwhelmed by all that’s on your plate, angry that others complain and check out.
Friends, I’m living proof that resentment, guilt, and perfectionism are a toxic stew that make the work exponentially harder. Let me be your cautionary tale. Don’t wait to have a coronary in the plane.
Doing the work with more ease
If you believe that your heart matters in this work, join me in finding ways to make engagement humane, kind, and sustainable. Perhaps, for you, this means prioritizing your well-being, setting clear boundaries, or resting before you’re spent. We can do good in the world while refusing to do violence to ourselves and others.
In fact, how we do the work of change matters as much as (maybe more than) what we do.
Gratitude, of course
I owe an enormous debt of gratitude to the entire AoCC team who kept liberty’s torch lit while I recovered. To our intrepid researchers, writers, team captains, production team, and social media goddesses: you are some of the smartest, kindest, and can-do souls and inspire me daily with your commitment to making a positive difference. Immense thanks to Jennifer Brunton, Marcia Bagnall, Marissa Bracke, Mary Blasko, Nancy Earl, and Wendy Cholbi for filling special shoes. I couldn’t have done it without you.
It’s good to be back and I’m—thankfully—here for the long haul. Onward, better than ever!
A request
If you’re inspired, share below ways you lighten your stress and care for yourself. We’re in this together, friends.
Warmly,
Jen Hofmann
P.S. After you comment, zip on over to the Acts of Gratitude section of this week’s AoC Checklist to get an extra boost of goodness!
Hope you continue to feel better Jen. Thank you for all that you do and for the lovely reminder to slow down and smell the roses ❤️
Jen,
Shocked to hear about your “event”, but very relieved to know you are almost fully recovered now. We only know each other through this email blog but we are kindred souls and for that I am truly grateful. We need you in the fight, but more importantly we just need you. Take care of yourself.
So glad to hear you’re recovering well.
Your message is an inspiration as well as a resounding reminder to pay attention tour stress levels.
Given the toxic environment that our country is being put through right now, it’s difficult to recognize how impacted by it we are. Your words help me not only recognize it but gives me permission to step back without guilt so I can recover.
Thank you for that.
I spend much less time reading Facebook than I used to. I’ve started reading more books again. I try to get a professional massage a couple of times a year.
Jen, I’m so sorry to hear that you went through this passage and am grateful for your recovery. You asked for ideas of how to keep your stress levels low in these parlous times. I get all of my news from reading. I don’t ever turn on television or any social media sites for my news… rarely for any reason. I rely on the written word be it from a newspaper I trust, magazines, podcasts and newsletters like yours. I never “check the news” just before bed. I often choose one of your gratitude letters to write as well as calls to my representatives. I make time for friends… we gather for breakfast, for knitting in a circle together, for writing postcards to voters. I exercise, meditate and make sleep a priority. I believe in the power of prayer and of community.
Thank you Jen….
The best way I’ve found to lighten my stress is present-moment living. The visual I use (credit to Norman Lear) is myself lying in a hammock anchored by the words Over and Next. I also periodically take inventory of my priorities and then check in to see how much time I spend on them. After all, what we spend our time on is what we make our priorities. If I’m not doing what I love, that usually accounts for increased stress.
I work with terminally ill people, and I hear their stories. I’ve learned the importance of respect. There is ALWAYS more to people than meets the eye.
My struggle is the great contempt I feel for our commander in chief, so much so that I can’t even bring myself to say his name. I don’t feel the same for those who voted for him-I know they have their reasons.
But he is a challenge. And yet, somewhere deep inside I have to remind myself that he must have a story, too.
Good news you are alive! Great news that you’re learning how to survive and take care of yourself to thrive in our world. It’s essential that people of conscience survive; if not, then what?
Best wishes for your rejuvenated self and always remember you’re not intended to do it all yourself. A friendly reminder we share with each other in healthcare: Don’t let work stress you out- your job will be posted on- line we’ll before your obituary “ 😄😄Keep going👍🏼
Read “Positive Mind, Healthy Heart” by Joe Piscatella…. daily readings and inspiration… helps with the de-stressing.
In May of 2017, I was diagnosed with a rather rare cancer that started in a very rare location: my appendix. At the time, from the symptoms I was having, I was convinced that I had ovarian cancer, which is what my mother died of when she was younger than I am now . (Mom was 72 when she died; I am now 76.)
I was so relieved to learn that I DIDN’T have ovarian cancer that anything would have been okay news. Had I received the news of my cancer under different circumstances, I might have been devastated, but instead I was relieved that it wasn’t worse. And truth, my “tumor load” was small and there was only one lymph node (out of 32 sent to Pathology) that had cancer cells in it, and that was the one closest to my appendix where the cancer had worked its way through. Nevertheless, I underwent chemo (now in my third course of treatments, each 6 months long), which has held it at bay pretty much, though every time I go off chemo it starts growing again.
So that was truly a piece of luck, that I received the news under these circumstances. Nevertheless, that changed a lot of things for me, changed them permanently. I was originally told that the survival rate five years after diagnosis for my kind of cancer was 5%. Later I heard 20-25% and even more recently I’ve heard 35%. But regardless of the percentage, I was determined to be in it. I just thought “I’ll be in that percentage of people who survive longer than five years, no matter what the percentage is.”
So I decided to live until I die. Really, it was that simple. I remember exactly where we were in the car on our way home from a bad-news consultation at OHSU. The doc we saw told us (wrongly, it turned out later) that I would certainly die from this cancer and there wasn’t much to be done for me. It would always come back. She didn’t give me an actual prognosis, but it was she who told me about the low survival rate. I was devastated… until we got to the intersection of about MLK with Weidler, eastbound on Weidler, and somehow something shifted for me, and I thought “Well, I’m just going to live until I die, whenever that will be, but I’m determined that it will be a long time.”
Somehow having a diagnosis like mine has been immensely freeing. None of us knows when we will die; I’ll bet a lot of us think “Sooner or later I’ll die,” but we always mean “Later, not sooner,” which if you think about it means “not now,” and that actually means “never.” Because it’s never “not now.” It’s always “now.” So “not now” means “never.”
Now that I know it’s not “never,” and in fact it probably will be “sooner,” at least sooner than I somehow thought whenever I thought about it, I have felt so much freer to speak my truth, think about what really matters to me and pay attention to that (my three grandsons in particular), and spend my time doing what I really want to do.
Today coming out of church (downtown Portland), I crossed the street against the light because there was no traffic for blocks, and what traffic there was was stopped at a light up the street. I crossed, then turned back to see if my husband had followed me. Eventually he crossed (with the pedestrian light, of course), but not before I had shouted to him “I don’t want whatever time is left for me to be spent waiting for the light to change.” I think that might be a good title for a blog.
I think that is my motto for keeping my blood pressure and my stress level down — I am doing what I really want to do, and doing a good job at it. What more could one ask?
So grateful to read your post here, Judy. You are a great example of living fully through it all. And yes, “Not waiting for the light to change” would make a witty and insightful blog that I, for one, would want to read. Best wishes from afar, Karen
First Jen, you are an inspiration! Taking care of ourselves is not easy especially in these days when we can be so easily overwhelmed with the craziness of our world. For me it’s a constant challenge. It seems I have a good cry every few weeks. But what helps me is yoga, meditation, classical music, hearing uplifting stories of the goodness that’s all around us, gratitude for family and friends, and finally my faith in God and the belief He will be by my side through thick and thin. One day at a time.
Dear Jenn, I am so glad to read that you are regaining your health. These have been hard years for many of us, myself included. Actually, your weekly checklists have been a big part of keeping me from pulling out my hair. I have found several things to help me cope with the stress:
I limit my news exposure. I find that reading a real, physical paper copy of my daily newspaper does not cause the stress that audio/visual news causes. The only news I watch is PBS News Hour.
I concentrate on what I can do. This is where your AoC weekly checklist has helped me. I can write letters and postcards, make phone calls, and send emails.
I am working with the campaign to elect a fantastic Democrat to the House of Representatives and turn my deeply red Congressional district blue. I can’t change the whole political situation but it is possible to change my district.
I attend a Unitarian congregation to be with people who share my values. It reminds me that I am not alone.
Best wishes for your continued recovery.
Wow, Jen! What a story and vivid reminder of the need for self care. It echoed my thoughts as I woke up to a snow storm inChicago and now have a day to be intentional in self care and to refresh. I, too, am limiting the media during this impeachment debacle and taking time each day for prayer, meditation, and recommitting to daily yoga and pt exercises my doctor suggested. We as a community of conscience are all connected and all need to take time to be calm and reflective, but never complacent. This week my positive action is to go to the community college in my community as a member of League of Women Voters to register young first time voters! It makes my heart soar to think of the impact this may make in 2020. Collectively we are making a difference.
Happy that your trip turned out to be good for you in the long run. I felt so unhealthy last year, mentally and physically that I made changes this year and feel like different person. In January I started writing a letter every day, writing a short journal entry and reading something spiritual. In February I gave up gluten (by far the best thing I’ve done health-wise). Then over the next months I started daily qigong, walking 2 miles, gave up sugar, wine and dairy (6 days a week). For someone who needed a drastic change this has done the trick. This checklist has helped me find ways I can make a difference and I can’t thank you enough for that.