Blankies

Blankies

I have a sick little girl at home. We have spent the afternoon watching Little Bear and I now officially feel like a completely inadequate mom - who can measure up to Mother Bear? Little Bear offers so much comfort to both my kids though, and they are such cute shows. I always end up saying to myself that I must be more tolerant like Mother Bear (and then blow up at something completely random).

I took a break from watching to read my current book Yoga and the Quest for the True Self. It is written by Stephen Cope who is the Leader for Extraordinary Living at Kripalu and the author of The Great Work of Your Life which I read last year. He’s talking about the importance of having a “place” to undergo a major change in life and the ritual that goes along with that. One of the criteria for the space is that “they are organized around ‘transitional objects’ that are constant and reliable”

The classic transitional object of childhood is the favorite blanket or special stuffed animal. When I was four years old I had a soft blue-and-white checkered blanket which I slept with and cuddled. I desperately needed to cling to this tattered flannel friend - to hold it and suck it at difficult moments when I needed to feel soothed. The blanket was helping me bear the age-appropriate but terrifying discovery that I was a seperate human being, and that others in my enviornment were not just emotional extensions of me, but were seperate too. Up until that time, everyone and everything else in the world had been, emotionally speaking, “me”. The blanket partook of this magical world of emotional fusion, because it was also, at times, just an extension of me. 

The blanket became, for me, a transitional object par excellence because it sometimes could be “not me”. At times I could experiment with letting it be just a blanket, utterly seperate. It therefore occupied the intermediate realm between emotional fusion and emotional separateness. It was both “me” and “not me”. That little blanket to which I clung - and from which I eventually parted - was an integral part of my process of growing up. (29)

I see this played out with Jacob. It makes me grieve for my blankie which was gone too soon (wahhhhhh!!!) But I really see with Jacob how Blankie is both a part of him and not him at the same time. Blankie has to smell like him, but he also has his own Blankie smell. It is his safeguard an the one “person” in life who is always there for him.

I am Jenna’s blankie which is both an honor (a huge, huge one) and very overwhelming. I am nowhere as perfect as a Blankie, but all those things she does with me.

Quack, Quack, Quack, Chiropractor?

I remember when I was a teenager and I used to joke with a friend of mine that we were so hard on our bodies that we would be in wheelchairs by the time we were 30. We rode horses and had no fear, the combination often leading to some pretty intense wrecks.

I wasn't in a wheelchair by 30 (thank the good Lord), but I had my son at 30 and the combination of some hard falls in youth and a difficult delivery lead to some serious health issues. Among other things my coccyx was a wreck. I didn't sit down for 3 years. I had a stupid pillow that I took everywhere with me that helped ease the pain if I *did* have to sit anywhere, but even that was not sitting - it was more hovering over the seat with my legs taking the majority of the weight. It took away a lot of the joy of what was the best thing I ever did. I had/have the best kid ever and I often wonder how I got so lucky.

I was raised to believe that when there was a health issue that I went to the doctor and they made me better. Except the doctors could not make me better. They poked and prodded at me (usually causing a lot of pain). They medicated me with everything imaginable. Years later a lot of the medications I took turned up on ads from law firms saying that if you or a loved one had suffered serious illness or death that you could sue the drug manufacturers for compensation. Fortunately I had none of those serious side effects, but that was just by the grace of God.

My coccyx issue repaired itself enough that I had another child (healthy and by c-section) but that was more out of stubbornness than anything else. Probably for my health it was not the smartest thing, but I wanted that second child. She, along with her brother, are the brightest stars in my sky so it was again a choice I never regret. I managed to control the tailbone pain after that through yoga, exercise and keeping to a healthy weight.

A couple of years ago I got into a funk and stopped working out, gained a bit of weight and started having low back issues. Which led to an even bigger funk which led to even bigger low back issues. Throw in my husband taking a new job and us making our third major move in 6 years (along with two minor ones) and things definitely took a turn for the worse.

Last summer I went for a massage. A massage I quite enjoyed until the end when she popped all my toes. I'm not a big joint popper at the best of times - I've ended relationships because of people popping their knuckles. <barf>. But, this popping seemed to go a little over the top. Afterwards I noticed my feet were a bit sore and within a day I was in serious pain every time I put weight on my feet.

After listening to me whine for a week or so my husband arranged an appointment with the chiropractor that works for his company.

Much as I had been raised to believe that the doctor had a magic pill that would cure all that ails me, I had also been taught that chiropractors were quacks that could cause a lot more harm than good. Needless to say I was a little anxious about going to see one of these quacks, but during the years that I searched for healing for my coccyx issue the only places where I actually found some sort of relief was non-western healing methods. So I gritted my already tense jaw and went for my appointment.

I had to fill out a form describing my medical history and current and past ailments. Then they took me into the office and did xrays of my spine. Apparently my feet should have been the least of my concern. They gave me a one year plan at three times a week and thus my life started to change.

I am now 6 months into treatments and it has been a life changing experience. I honestly didn't even realize how crappy I felt until I started to feel better. I'm not where I want to be yet, but at least I'm not where I was a few months ago. And hopefully will never be again. I feel taller, I feel stronger and I feel happier. As an added bonus, I have made some really good friends at the clinic whose friendships I truly cherish.

Quack Quack? Yes please!