Enjoying the Civic Holiday Weekend while Coping with Severe Stress Affects

What's in a name?  The first Monday in August in Canada is commonly called Civic Holiday, a chance to enjoy another three-day weekend in Canada.  It goes by several names according to what city or province you live in.  But the idea is the same:  celebrate; enjoy; live.

Three day weekends become problematic when you're coping on a daily basis with "altered abilities" caused by unrelenting, escalating, brutal stress over a period of years. When the energy tank in your body gets so deleted that there are no reserves left.  When at the best of times, you're running on fumes.

That is me.  My life.  What I deal with daily.

You've heard the saying that "the eyes are bigger than the stomach?"  Or the Biblical quote:  "the flesh is willing but the spirit is weak?"  In my case, it's the opposite:  my spirit is willing BUT my flesh is weak.  What I want to do, what my mind tells me I can do, I find I can't.

Learning to live with this - and live like this - has been a difficult change for me.  I once did.  I now be.

So we came to yet another long weekend, thinking of options.  What can I realistically do?  The key word being "realistically".

My mind fumbled through several options finally deciding on a visit to the Toronto Zoo - about an hour or so away from us.  A day trip.  Bringing, of course, two indispensable items:  hubby and my camera.

Before even leaving the house that morning knowing that (a) energy is severely limited and (b) unpredictable as in I can go from feeling physically and emotionally on top of the world one minute to having trouble breathing the next, we formed a "plan".

The panda exhibit is on.  Two pandas on loan from China.  Therefore, the plan was to see that exhibit first and then go from there, monitoring the energy levels constantly (almost sounds like I'm a car with an oil leak, doesn't it?)

It was a good plan.  Especially considering the wait for the interactive exhibit.  We became part of a long line snaking around lines formed by ropes before finally entering the building.  Following hoards of like-minded people, we snaked through the exhibit before finally funnelling through the bamboo tunnel.  Each step getting us closer to our intended goal:  the pandas.

Success at last!  The two pandas, one male and one female, are kept separated.  Above is the female who was enjoying the Toronto sun; while the male was kept inside with a separate (crowded) viewing area.

Leaving the panda exhibit, emotionally I felt good.  Physically was starting to get challenging.  We decided to "bite the bullet" and find the zoomobile and ride it around rather than walking.  A good choice EXCEPT that it took a lot of walking to get to the next zoomobile location.

By that time, I was thoroughly tired and ready for a rest.  Breathing coming in spurts.  I was starting to look longingly at those who were using mobility devices.  But I persevered - and had a riot taking pictures.  (So, what else is new?)

By the time we got to the zoomobile stop, I was barely able to function.  I broke out in a sweat all over trying to access the machine for tickets.  A feat only accomplished with the assistance of my long sufferin' spouse (and part-time sherpa).

The zoo has renovated its Eurasia exhibit and the only way to see it is on the zoomobile - so besides the practical consideration of not physically being able to walk any further, the zoomobile allowed us to see a part of the zoo we would not have otherwise been privy to.

The train actually goes through gates into the enclosure.  Taking pictures on a moving vehicle proved to be a challenge - but a fun one.

As we wove around the zoo on the train, it became more and more evident that walking around was not going to happen.

So we rode around - a couple of times.

It was actually more fun the second time around as we knew what we were going to see and could try to get the camera ready in advance.  It was also fun knowing that I was coping with the limitations imposed by my altered abilities - and coping well.

Pictures like this one.  Experiences like this are what keep me going.  Even when the body wants to lie down and say:  "I quit."  These good times spent with my best friend (who also happens to be my husband) are what give me hope for a better - which in my case translates to less challenging - tomorrow.

Accepting that I now have limitations which are not easily understood because they are not linked to an organic cause has not been easy.  Yet, it's a necessary part of the recovery process.

What will my world look like?  What will my "new normal" level out to be?  I'm not going to know unless I keep on keeping on.  Muddling through.  One day, one experience, at a time.

This day, it was the zoo.  Tomorrow, it might well be something else.

Going home through Toronto we came to a slow down - rather a bottleneck.  Bumper to bumper traffic creeping along.  We saw a cloud of smoke.  Not one but two fire trucks raced past us.  At one point, we saw flames.  By the time, we crept past, this was all that was left of the commotion.

Needless to say, someone was having a rougher go of it at that moment than I was.

For that I am thankful.

Workplace Abuse - Mentally and Emotionally Preparing for the End

Perched on top of a water tower on South Padre Island in South Texas, we had a hard time deciding if these men were crazy or just had a death wish.  Actually, they were up there doing some sort of work on the tower. What were their feelings, their thoughts as they sat atop the water tower?  Their employer would say that they weren't being paid to think or to feel, simply to do their work.  To get the job done. Whatever.  They not only had a spectacular view of the Laguna Madre to the East and the bird sanctuary right below them, but their perch gave them a completely different view point from those directly below them.  Those (like me) who had their feet planted firmly on tierra firma.

I find myself dragging my feet on this narrative as I approach (for the second time) the end of my final contract.

I say for the second time because that is how it feels as I relive this traumatic experience.

Only this time, I know how it ends.

And I'm not really looking forward to it.

As the end neared with my supervisor still refusing to tell me anything, I went through several stages emotionally.  Just as they say there are definite stages to grief or to learning that you have a terminal illness, I went through several stages as the end approached.  Looking back, I don't think I can remember or recall them all but I will try.

First, was a feeling of doom and dread.  Wanting to hang on to what I had.  Not wanting to let go.  Gradually, though as the pressures of the work grind coupled with the increasing stress continued, I began to think that I wouldn't mind leaving the job if it were not for the money issue.

I've mentioned in an earlier posting, how it was my faith that enabled me to stay somewhat vertical during this time.

At one point, I heard or read an example about a pastor who called up all the children in his congregation to sit near him at the front of the church while he told a story.  He gave each of this children a $1 bill.  Then he held up a $10 bill which he was willing to give away.  The catch?  The child had to let go of the $1 bill in his hand to get the $10 bill.

That story gave me a lot to think about.

Was my job the $1 bill in my hand which I had to let go of before I could receive the equivalent of the $10 bill?

For me, though, I would have to let go of the $1 bill in my hand by pure faith that something better, i.e. the $10 bill, was out there waiting.

Did I have enough faith to be able to do that?

Another story I heard during that time was about a woman of faith in a third world country (I don't remember her name or where - just the example because it was powerful).  They had just put a new roof on their church when disaster in the form of a storm struck and the roof was demolished.  This woman starting praising God.  People around her were astonished. Why was she praising God when they'd lost the roof of the church?  When asked, she answered to the effect:  she was praising God for taking away the roof because that meant he had a metal roof, i.e. a much better one than the previous one, for them.

In those last weeks before the contract ended, my mind came back again and again to those two examples.

Could I praise God even if the job ended because I had the faith to believe something better suited to me was down the line?

Concurrently, did I have the faith to mentally and emotionally let go of this job regardless of whether or not I could see something on the other side of it?

Because I was on contract, there would be no exit or severance package to tide me over.  When the job was over, so were the paycheques.  Period.

Towards the very end, though, I was ready to go.  It was time.  Past time.

I was exhausted.  I desperately needed a break from the unrelenting stress - both from the nature of the job itself and from the toxic atmosphere I was working in.

However, I still wanted a rescuer to appear on the scene.

I wanted someone to represent me.

I guess I had watched too many Lone Ranger episodes as a child, where the Lone Ranger always swept in at the last, crucial moment with his sidekick Tonto and saved the day.

Although this view of a bird sanctuary on South Padre Island in Texas is taken from the third story of a viewing centre, the water tower the workers were perched on top of was right beside.  They had a far greater, more comprehensive view from their perch than I did.  I wonder what they saw at that moment.  How did this scene look to them?  Admittedly, I'm looking at the view of my workplace experience from a very low level, i.e. ground level.  Being right on the scene.  How would the same view look from another perspective?  I've often wondered how it looked from God's perspective.