Wednesday, November 28, 2007
In Which I "Celebrate" Having Vertigo for One Full Year! Ahhh . . . who knew I would ever reach this moment, the day when I would be able to say that I have had vertigo for a full year? Not I, surely. A year ago I assumed I would wake up tomorrow and feel better. A year ago I still had hope that I would be cured tomorrow. Three hundred sixty and four tomorrows later it is hard to still have hope. I tried to write something spiritually deep in which I explore the many blessings I have experienced through having vertigo. A year later it is hard to still believe that any doctor will get to the bottom of why . . . Why I was unable to sit in meditation today and had to lie down. Why I have nights of "insomnia" because the bed feels like it is constantly moving. Why I still can't move my head or my body quickly because I will fall. One year of waiting and hope fades. That's a fact. And there are blessings in this. Truly. I am more aware, more conscious about what I choose to do each and every day. I move with more mindfulness. I fill my life with silence, not activity. C S Lewis says "You don't have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body." I have a body but it is not my body. My body was New York fast and loved to dance. My body bounced and bounded from point A to point B with a fury. My body was afraid of heights but loved to rock climb. My body defied gravity and age and reason. The body I have today doesn't make sense to me. It feels things that are not real. The floor is not swaying. The chair is not being pulled out from under me. The mattress on which I lie is not a magic carpet ride. No matter what my body feels it does not feel the truth. The body I have today is heavier than it was a year ago but my skin is still soft. The body I have today is not as flexible as before but still loves to do yoga. The body I have today can no longer balance but can be pushed as ever before. I get tired sometimes of people asking me how I am because I know they really mean, "How is your body today?" My body is the same. But my soul . . . My soul has taught my body to find the blessings. Live mindfully as we move through our day. Choose consciously what will best fulfill our intentions. Believe and hope but also accept that tomorrow truly may never come. Yes, I resent my loss of independence and I still hope that tomorrow will come. Until then I do the only thing I can do--live today as best I can. This is different from one day to the next. Today I cannot sit in meditation so I lie down to meditate instead. Tomorrow I may be able to sit at my computer and write for three hours. Today I spent most of my time in bed, reading. Tomorrow I may not even be able to focus on the page without feeling nauseous. I don't know what tomorrow will bring me. How am I? Today, I am fine. Today, I am learning. I am not my body; neither are you. And today I "celebrated" my first anniversary of having vertigo.