Playing for Time

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You know how life catches your eye and you can absolutely SEE yourself doing whatever it is, totally visualize it? So you DO the thing, and the moment you step out onto the high wire without a safety harness you wake up from the dream and there you are, naked as Godiva under the spotlights, balance pole missing, and no clue what to do. Working Without Annette is terrifying.

That, boys and girls, was day one at dance fitness class, and it was so much fun I went back for day two! After Tuesday’s initiation https://playingfortimeblog.com/2022/11/02/the-quest/ I flaked off all day Wednesday, didn’t go for a stroll Thursday morning, and cruised into class ready to get my dance on. Knowing how quickly the first day’s meltdown started, I slow-walked my way through the first half-hour, only to find myself in trouble again. Kim and I are still scoping out the various triggers for focal seizure but they include elevated heart rate and body temperature, both of which, as it turns out, that particular class is specifically designed to do, DUH. With fifteen minutes left on the clock, I decided to grab my things and head for the exit, knowing that once the cold wind hit me I could likely make it to the car. Focal seizures, for me at least, have a specific pattern… a head-to-toe sweat meltdown, shaking, dizziness, and hyperventilation, followed by confusion, disorientation, paranoia and crying. I’m sure it isn’t pretty to watch, so all I wanted was the safety of my car, and I knew Kim’s truck was close by and he couldn’t leave without seeing me there. It’s a huge facility, so I didn’t have time to look for him.

He, however, was hot on my trail, drove us home, and we arrived with a greater understanding of the situation than when we went out there. What we’ve learned so far:

1. I simply showed up too early to the party, lacking a real clue as to the toll extracted by eight years in my recliner. In terms of spinal healing and energy restoration, I need training wheels, even after all the miles I’ve walked in the past year.
2. A part of me is still the barefoot farm girl always running, the bicycle rider, the cheerleader, the girl who loved to dance even though she kinda stank at it, and although all of that was in the BEFORE time, when my body was still whole, I can SEE it, dammit, so I should still be able to make it happen… but I can’t necessarily still make it all happen.
3. Kim nailed the obvious… “You know, you don’t DO mornings! This was never gonna work!” That moment when a light goes on and you get an idea how to proceed from here…

DISCLAIMER: I’m usually up by 6:30 or earlier, but I’m semi-comatose until about lunchtime. Parts of my brain are awake, but they’re occupied with writing words on the screen, and coffee-management. Those brain-parts apparently prefer peace and quiet until fully saturated, and are mos def not in favor of bouncing the molecules around in taxing ways before their time; therefore, I’ve made a large note to self:

YOU DO NOT DO MORNINGS

I’ll find what works as the energy reserves return and not worry about it… my body will tell me.

So what’s it REALLY like getting older, you ask?

ANSWER: It’s weird AF. You’re still the same person you always were, with life lessons blended into the mix, but whatever fires the engine eventually starts quiet-quitting. Grossly unfair, but what isn’t?

Here’s a thing to know, right off the top:

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Speaking of magic… this takes me home somewhere and I hope you love it too. Have a beautiful autumn Sunday.

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ADDENDUM: Just as I was finishing this blog post, my computer shut down without warning and I lost all but the opening line. I steamed for a bit, quietly enjoyed my always-healing Sunday omelet, and sat myself down to retrieve what I could from the still-sleepy brain matter. Not saying everything happens for a reason because I specifically do not believe that to be true, but this turned out to be a far better post, so sometimes good things do come from sucky ones. Never, never, never give up. It’s so cute how life’s always directly at hand to provide an object lesson.