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Posts Tagged ‘Cayman Islands’

 
 

Why So Stubborn?

Tuesday, May 26th, 2009

Today’s blog is going to be personal.  Let’s talk about stubbornness.  I know all of you are stubborn in your own way. 

Let me tell you about a stubborn choice I made, and how I’m still paying for it today. About a year ago, I decided to go surfing. I had never been surfing before, but really wanted to try it (even though I knew it wasn’t the greatest activity for someone with a history of lower back issues).

So I went out and surfed during a vacation. I got up on the board with no problem, but I kept jumping off of it into the shallow water. By my final day of the trip, I was getting really sore . . . but still decided to surf one more time. Since that day, my back has never felt the same. 

Now I’ve tried practically everything to fix it. I’ve done acupuncture.  I’ve gone to chiropractors. I’ve gone to massage therapists.  I’ve been to yoga. I’ve done everything exercise and stretching related. I’ve done it all . . . except gone to get an MRI.

It’s funny, but during all this time I’ve tried to heal myself I’ve never before sat around and just rested for a few days like I did during the Memorial Day weekend. I don’t like to do that because I get too into my own head.

When I sit around, I feel weak. I’m miserable. It borders on depression for me.

I’ve been sitting around my house the last several days doing nothing all day long. Some of you regularly just sit around and watch television all day long. I have no idea how you live that life.

To me, sitting and watching television all day long is just an emotional torture. I’m a doer.

I’ve also been an athlete my entire life.  I work out daily. If I don’t work out for a few days, I feel terrible and I have to do something active to feel better.

Let’s talk about emotional torture, though, because for me there is nothing worse than being forced to rest. I’m really stubborn. My girlfriend has told me plenty of times to get an MRI, but I just wouldn’t do it.

Finally, last week, I decided to make an appointment. I’m going today to get it.

I want to go even deeper into this. I can’t get out of my own head when it comes down to having to rest.  It really stems from the way I was brought up as a child.

My Mom has a bad back. My Mom has fought through it her whole life. My Mom also got depressed at times.

My Father died of MS. He got into his head so badly that he actually caused himself to get it. He didn’t want it so badly that he ended up getting it. Strange story. I’ll share that story another day.

So I’ve done nothing but practice mental toughness since I was a little kid.  My whole life I’ve had to practice mental toughness. You get hurt, and you go out and do it anyway. 

When I was in college, I separated my shoulder.  At the time, I played on a competitive intramural league and I was also weightlifting. Two days after separating my shoulder, I was playing football again with my friends. I always believed you fight through pain, because nothing is worse than the mental anguish. 

So as I layed around all Memorial Day weekend stiff as can be (and annoyed as can be), I realized what my lesson from this should be: If I had listened to my girlfriend months ago, I would have gotten an MRI and figured out what the problem is and what’s really wrong with me. Had I done that, I would have gotten the right treatment instead of doing 80% the wrong things.

I have never before sat around for a week to rest and just let my body heal. I don’t know how to let my body heal. When my back locks up or contracts, I will fight my way through it so I can start walking again.

Time seems to move so slowly when you’re resting. It’s ridiculous. This weekend was torture.

My girlfriend is in the Cayman Islands right now enjoying herself. She’s got a little vacation and a little business trip. Good for her.

I wouldn’t want to be around me anymore when I’m like this — stubborn, cantankerous and so in my own head. I would love for her to be here to help take care of me. I would never ask, even if I wanted her to stay.

There’s something about me that is so stubborn, telling myself that I can take care of myself and can make this go away on my own, that even if I really needed her I would never say a word. When I’m really hurting, I tend to push people away.

Admitting that fact, about that or anything else, is a big part of changing. I see the same issue in a lot of you when I read your posts.

A lot of you are still going through the same problems with the opposite sex over and over again. When are you going to reach out for help? When are you going to stop being so stubborn?

Did We Kill Her Mother?

Thursday, May 21st, 2009

So we finally have the house back to ourselves. My girlfriend and I had two weeks of houseguests. Now she gets to head to the Cayman Islands to relax and recover, while Daphne and I will hang out and reclaim the house.

We do now have a new name for the blog courtesy of my girlfriend’s mother (aka Mama). Yes, her southern mother Mama calls it “the blob.” She makes up words for just about everything. Sushi is “osaka,” and the list goes on and on from there. It actually was fun learning a whole new language the last couple weeks.

Although Mama has now returned home, something crazy did happen on her last night here: we thought we actually had killed her. Earlier that day, Sonja had to go work. Since that meant her mom was going to be left home basically sitting on the couch and watching television, Sonja thought it would be a cool idea to drop her off at The Promenade instead.

The Promenade is a place that you can walk around and check out lots of different stores, restaurants and vendors. The problem is that Mama is 77 years old, and doesn’t really like to walk around that much.

When older people turn 77, they act a lot like kids. They’re basically as needy and as painful as kids, but they’re just not as cute. They can’t really run around (actually sometimes they can’t even run at all because it hurts them).

Anyway, she dropped Mama off there around 2:30 pm and basically said “Mama, I’ll see you around 6:30 or 7:00 pm.” At around 6:15 pm, however, Mama started calling saying “Where are you darling? Where are you darling? I’m scared. I’m terrified!” She called about eighteen times.

Mama wasn’t feeling too well because she was standing outside in the cold. Apparently she didn’t want to go into a store because the store didn’t have what she wanted to drink. So instead of sitting in the store relaxing and drinking something good, she decided to stand outside.

By the time Sonja picked her up, Mama said her chest hurt because she’d been outside and that she didn’t feel well. When Mama got back to the house, Sonja banished her down to her bedroom and told her to go to sleep.

When Sonja and I went to go to sleep, we were laying there wondering “Did we kill her? Is Mama still alive in there?” I woke up at 7:00 in the morning and I was waiting for confirmation that Mama was alive – a door squeak or SOME indication that Mama was still alive in the next room.

I kept wondering “Did we kill her mother? Should we go and check on her?” So Sonja wakes up and starts getting up to go to the bathroom, and I say “Babe, should we check on her?” She says “No, she’s all right.” I said “I think I might have heard her snore…”

After two or three more silent minutes pass, I’m still laying there wondering if we killed Mama. Did banishing her to The Promenade do it? Did the extra walking in the 65 degree cold do her in for good? What exactly happened to her? Then right at 8:00 am on the button, I hear the door creak and a toilet flush and I realized that we didn’t kill Mama.

Did Mama kill us by hanging with us for two weeks? Absolutely not. Is it hard? Yes, at times.

When older people travel and visit you in your pond, they are like a fish out of water. They don’t travel well. Young people don’t travel well either for that matter. The only people who travel well are those people in the middle.