I don't know that I've ever gone this long without writing something non-work related. Moreover, I'm not sure that there's anyone who still checks this space. But sometimes one needs to talk, listeners notwithstanding.
In case you're wondering, I could not begin to outline the events of the past 3 months. Just on the topic of the reno alone, Scott's managing a spreadsheet with 180 deliverables BEFORE we move into the rental. (Note to potential readers: We have rented a house to live in for the duration of the reno. It's in the "real"end of a swanky 'hood. Once you are on the hook for 4K a month in rent whether you go to a good hood or a slum, you might as well live large. That's home rental in the big city... Alas, it's more like 9K to go furnished so we have the fun of moving twice and renovating!) That spreadsheet doesn't outline our work DURING the reno, which (it has somehow just occurred to me) includes a shit ton of interior (and landscape) design. When my mother asked me who my designer was, I told her she was part of my team. FWIW, Scott and I are the other members of that team.
She told me to send her the stamped plans.
I am not moving my sewing gear to the rental cuz, fuck, I'm designing a home and I've been too absorbed by the endless trivia of pre-design (contract negotiations - that fucking contract just got signed, engineering, moving and architectural plans) to even begin to think about things like tiles and fireplaces and floors and windows. Don't worry. I've got this. There are few things I like more than making decisions.
Anyway, this post is not about the reno. It's about the current watchword of my life: reconstruction.
To me, it feels like there is nothing that isn't being ripped back, excavated, exhumed. My office building has gone through 6 months of serious refacing - with all the noise and grime that goes along with it. My job is about reforming an entire sector of the health care system. I've given up almost every food I love for health reasons (that's about 10 posts-worth of info I'd just as soon not write down) and, truly, I am existentially transformed and grief-stricken by the loss of my favourite touch point, of self. One thing I'm sure to write 10 posts on, eventually, is my addiction to sugar which - do not be under any illusion - is hardcore. If we were talking about heroin, I'd be institutionalized. Instead, I just pick my ass up every morning and go to work.
I'm not going to tell you I'm tired. I was tired a year ago. Now I float by on my sleep-deprived wits (part of that overarching Kristin health item), or so I tell myself. My career is omnipresent. I'm working at 7 am, at 7pm. I do all kinds of things I'm unsuited to. But this post is not about my job.
I feel I need to provide the broadest health strokes before I can tell you what this post is about. In brief: I have osteoarthritis everywhere they've looked, namely hips, entire back, neck, jaw. It's fairly entrenched, which is to say it's been there for at least 20 years. Based on the genetic testing I've done, I personally believe this has to do with my propensity to have difficulties metabolizing vitamin D (which affects bones and joints as y'all know). To wit: I had my vit D levels tested after months of taking 6000 IUs a day and my levels are still only borderline normal to the low end. Note: The doctors have no opinion of my theory so take this as you will.
The most problematic zone for the OA is my jaw. You may recall I've referred to my most intolerable health concern, which I don't like to discuss, very bad TMJD. At this time, it seems there's no disc left on my left side so it's bone on bone and a joint that dislocates routinely. Explains my hideous headaches though! It also explains tinitis that started a few months ago. Alas, the problem is exacerbated by a structural issue from birth, as my jaw didn't form properly (numerous expensive scans have recently proven). This probably allowed the OA to take hold in a joint that is rarely implicated as it isn't weight-bearing. Just FYI, It's not a good joint to fuck up.
There's much more to this story like the fact that the structural issue interferes with my breathing when I sleep (I did a sleep test). I don't have apnea but my blood deoxygenates numerous times a night, which moves me from deep sleep to light sleep. They estimate (on the basis of test results) that I get very little REM sleep and likely haven't for a decade.
I just like to point out that I am a fully functional human being who doesn't get much REM sleep. I think, under the circumstances, I am fucking killing it, even if I haven't had a chance to interior design my new home three weeks before tear down.
The story is more involved than this, and rather concerning, but let's leave it at: knowledge is power.* Because, really, it is.
You can see where I'm going with this theme of reconstruction.
Yesterday I was doing some weird yoga pose, something I have rarely done in the last 2 months because a) I have no time to pee and b) changing my entire diet has left me with no time to do anything other than cook (unless it's work). While I was experiencing the pose, it suddenly hit me: my body was tireless in seeking what it knew. It was grasping, trying to find a space it had fallen into thousands of times before in the guise of "desirable structure". Those who do yoga know what I mean about how you find your pose with muscle memory and, occasionally, grit.
There's this bodywork construct wherein muscles are "locked long". The theory is that a muscle may get "locked", by tight fascia, in its lengthened position (recognizing that muscles don't lengthen from the centre like taffy). It's the very definition of how "doing what you always do" "brings what it always brings". And if that were biophysical closure, it wouldn't be a sensory trap. Add a little order-induced OCD (man, I sound like a fucking mess! :-)) and you can entrench some pretty deep kenisiological troughs.
Here's my point finally, thank god I'm sure you'll agree: I need to take my practice back to the studs. Every yogi is advised to bring the mind of the beginner to her practice but I've got to bring the movement too. I need to isolate the glitch spots so that I can retrain them. This ain't no small task.
I suspect it's easier to renovate a fucking house.
I have recently discovered my neuroplastic gifts, which we all have in miraculous reserve, though many will never exploit them. I'm exploiting them. And I urge you to do the same because encountering yourself at the meta-level is really all that. I mean, it's kind of everything (she says, floating in a vat of her own bourgeoisie).
Way to add another reconstruction to the mix. At some point I'm going to get good at this.
PS: If you're still there, please say hi! I have truly missed you.
*FYI, I'm working many medical and alternative angles which I can't possibly get into now, but know that I am managing the shit out of this thing.