Lessons from the Tailgate Volume Two

As recovery stretches into the second year I am still (reluctantly) learning. Truth be told, I’m tired of learning from experience. I would much rather get the information reading a book. If only it worked that way.

Here are a few more lessons from the tailgate.

Lesson One: Never underestimate the power of adult coloring. It started when a friend and colleague gave me a swear word coloring book after the first accident. It was a perfect way to express my frustration. I also had friends who were going through difficult times. I tore out the better pages and put them in the mail with a note. There was something very satisfying about coloring what was on my mind without actually saying it.

Since then, a variety of coloring books have provided meditation, something to focus on besides my aches and pains as well as a way to quell the boredom. I am a voracious reader but reading lost its appeal when the pain meds caused me to read the same paragraph six times and still have no idea what it said.

Coloring also makes me think a lot about my mom. She was an amazing artist. As I choose the colors for my pictures, I like to think I am channeling some of her eye for color. Thinking about mom is always a good thing.

Lesson Two: Friendship is free. It’s a good thing because I never could afford the ones I have. Their love, support, prayers, funny cards and words of encouragement keep me off the pity pot. They help me laugh at my own klutziness.

Listening to those who know me, almost as well I know myself, helped me make the difficult decision to sell my beloved boat Genesis. As friends often do, they lovingly hold up a mirror so I can see myself more honestly.

Lesson Three: I can’t do what I did in my twenties. It really pisses me off. And yet, when I get through griping about it I can see the gifts of aging coming into clearer focus. There are things that are happening in my sixties that couldn’t happen in my twenties. Each season of life brings its own gifts and graces. Stay tuned on this one, I am still working it out.

Lesson Four: TV really is a vast wasteland. It’s amazing how much garbage there is on television. I find myself drawn to reruns of old shows that make me laugh. I spend entirely too much time on whodunit shows. There is something satisfying about having a complex problem solved in forty-six minutes. Still, so much of it is hokey, phony and boring. I guess it is its own wasteland. Netflix and Amazon Prime, however, keep me off prime time and that is a very good thing.

Lesson Five: Time is precious. I have lived far more of my life than I have remaining before me. It is at once humbling and compelling. Time is a gift to use wisely. Tomorrow is promised to no one. Years of working in hospice and palliative care taught me that aging is a privilege denied to many. I am learning to treasure my days and the people who are part of them.

Lesson Six: John Lennon said, “Life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans.” Sometimes it’s tempting to be disappointed in the life I have in comparison to the life I dreamed for myself. Learning to live the life I have and making it my best life is a daily decision. I have made loads of plans and end up living a very different life. And it is just fine. I’m no Pollyanna and sometimes I’m not even a glass half-full kind of person. I’m learning to be the kind of person, where, if the water doesn’t fit in the glass, I get a different glass. It keeps me from comparing what I don’t have in relation to what I expected. It’s a good daily discipline.

Lesson Seven: Dosing myself on the news is a survival strategy. I can only take so much. Some days I read the paper, other days I watch the news. I rarely do both. EB White said, “I rise each morning torn between a desire to save the world and a desire to savor the world. It makes it difficult to plan the day.” Moving back and forth between the shores of saving and savoring keeps me grounded while not allowing me to sink into despair. Too much news is a recipe for depression. Too little news and I risk becoming a clueless shell of a person who is too much concerned with the small purview of my own life.

Lesson Eight: I am reminded of the closing line of the Desiderata (as true now as it was when first written in 1927) “With all its sham drudgery and broken dreams it is still a beautiful world.” I can see it, even while lying on my back staring at the ceiling.