Uncertainty

I took a walk in the woods next to my house today.  I found a nice spot where I might build a labyrinth actually. Because I'm kinda' obsessed with labyrinths but that is a different blog post.  I spent a lot of time playing in those woods as a kid.  As a angsty teenager, I wrote poetry and listened to music there.  I'm not even sure it can be called "woods" since you're never even out of sight of my house or the ladies who live on the other side.  But whatever.  It's a nice space and walking around there this morning made me feel both calm and nostalgic.

What I didn't like was how tentative and unsure my footing was.  I was being super careful.  I was worried about tripping or twisting an ankle.  I don't move like that when I walk in other places or when I teach yoga.  Granted, you have to be cognizant of roots and rocks when you walk in the woods but not as cautious as I was being.  When I was a kid, I wasn't afraid of falling.  I never worried if I was doing anything right.  I just did things.

I've been wrestling with uncertainty for a while now.  So many things in my life right now are completely out of my control.  I know I can control my attitude and I certainly try to.  Aside from that, I don't have much.  My monkey mind gets all riled up.  What about this? What about that?  What does the rest of my life even look like?  Hell, what does the next ten minutes even look like?  

I expected a dementia diagnosis for my husband last week.  It's a diagnosis I've been fighting for, so we can put a name to what's happening and maybe get support if support is available.  Dementia is the ultimate uncertainty thrill ride.  Except nobody is thrilled.  But moments of calm and steady give way to rapid deceleration, unexpected acceleration, abrupt stops and having everything turned upside down.  Sounds like the roller coaster to me.

My husband sort of got a diagnosis. Again, uncertainty.  The neurologist said that while he was definitely exhibiting signs of frontal temporal dementia, an exclusive diagnosis of FTD would be "misleading".  Apparently, my husband now has significantly weaker muscles than he had in January. This combined with other symptoms is problematic.  Now there will be more testing.  There are hints that something even more insidious than dementia may be brewing.  I've given up on seeing the finish line where we say, "this is the diagnosis and this is how we proceed."  There is no finish line or if there is, it is in the Amazon rainforest and I am currently wandering somewhere in the Sahara Desert.  

I don't know how any of this plays out.  Some days I feel like I don't know anything at all.  But my walk in the woods showed me this; being anxious about my uncertainty is miserable.  Spending lots of time and energy wondering what happens next is pointless.  Approaching in a nervous fashion is no good.I'm going to try something different.

That's what you should do, when you've been bashing your head against the wall...try something different.  So, from now on, the more uncertain I feel, the more I will act confidently.  When I worry about next steps or the end game, instead of retreating, I will show up.  I will keep showing up. Exhausted. Confused. Angry. Crying irrational tears.  Whatever it is I do, I will be all in. Instead of walking tentatively, afraid of terrible outcomes, I will walk in like I own the f*cking place. If I fall, either literally or metaphorically, then so be it.  

We think worrying is just planning for the future.  We think planning for the future will keep us and the people we love safe.  But worrying is just worrying.  The stuff we perseverate on seldom happens.  The stuff we actually have to deal with often blindsides us.  We can take precautions.  We can make good choices.  But I know that my anxiety never once actually protected anyone.  It just made me exhausted.