Stephanie Swanson Coaching

By Stephanie Swanson, February 2023

The sun shines through the trees as I sit with my new companion.

Long ago (or just last week?) I planted allium bulbs and the seeds of future aspirations, plans to feed our family from this soil and laugh with friends on this new patio, laying brick by brick with anticipation of the friendships that would bloom here too. Louise Penny, Parker Palmer, and Tonya from down the street spoke to my soul here on this patio.

I sit with him now, quiet now with my thoughts. Are they thoughts? Ideas, feelings, sensations of being here, now. That elusive “be here now” that last year’s me never understood. How does one “be here now” when the here and now is an enticing landscape of future possibilities? The whole world is out there, begging to be seen, known, explored! Anticipation and restless excitement of transforming this house into a space made for gathering, friendship, and connection. So many restaurants to try, festivals to experience, bike trails to ride!

When he arrived, a heaviness descended with him, increasing gravity tenfold. The endless horizon of opportunities darkened by the weighty effort to get out of bed, to eat, to discern why yesterday’s me needed Velcro straps from Amazon with 1-day delivery? Is today a band day, mom? What’s for lunch? Do you have a plan for dinner? Are you driving to dance? Mama, can we play a game? Why are you on the couch? Have you seen my dance shoes? Where is my toothbrush? Can you read me a story? Mama, are you sad?

Pull it together, this is not the childhood memories you want them to carry. Smile, close your eyes, breathe. How to describe that the letters I see get lost in translation, somewhere between optical nerve and temporal lobe, the words elude me? Mama has a headache. Can you read to me tonight?

4 weeks. I’m not worried. You’ll get there.

2 months. Let’s run tests. Looks clear. Drink more water. This will pass.

4 months. The PASC clinic closed. We don’t have answers. Pulse 114, that is high. Is it just anxiety maybe? See you in 2 months.

6 months. Possible brain stem inflammation? MRI. These meds might help. We’ll see you in two months.

Shaking, heart racing, fear of the unknown. “Most recover in 6-18 months”? But I have a job, a life, kids, plans, goals, hopes, dreams! Wringing hands over the sink piled with yesterday’s dishes. Why am I standing here? Breathe, think. Oh right. Plate. Wait, what comes next? Breathe, soap. Breathe, rinse.

How are you feeling? Exhausted, but you’d never know. Sunglasses, noise cancelling headphones. Smile. Lay down. Get up. Fake it till you make it. Life is what you make of it.

Have you tried this [diet, treatment, medication, test, class, doctor, yogi, shaman]? My sister’s friend had something like this and it worked for her! I saw it on TikTok, you should try it.

Pill sorters, 20 a day. Just one more supplement, this one is great for brain health. $40 for 30 day supply. $75 for an appointment. $60 for the month. $22 per class. $150 per session. $400 for the labs. $2500 deductible. Out-of-network. Off-label. Will it work? Not sure, but what is your health worth?

Yes, I can answer that email, I think. Last year’s me could have done it in her sleep. Today’s me is spent, but I think tomorrow’s me can. No, I definitely want to be here. But also, can we take a break? Conversations make my arms and legs ache. Wait, my email said what? That’s not right. Maybe I should’ve gone home.

Sick time. Disability. FMLA. Forms, calls, questions, emails, budgets. Part-time or full time? Paid or unpaid? Career aspirations slipping away. But what is your health worth?

Sleep, work, sleep, eat, rest, dinner, sleep. Fatigue. Confusion. Fog. Depression. Anxiety.

Hide it all, be strong. Eat better. Shower more. Get dressed. Show up. Laugh.

Not enough water, not enough sleep, he whispers to me. Not enough as a mother. Not enough as a friend, coworker, boss. Not enough as a wife. Head throbbing, shaking, weak, sobbing, collapsing in a ball on the floor of the closet. Will life ever feel normal again??

And yet.

The sun shines through the trees as I sit with my new companion. Breathe deeply, sun warming, being here now.

Watching blonde hair flowing behind squealing girls on bikes as they soak in the unusually warm February sunshine.

Watching dogs bask in the sun as they chew lazily on sticks they found in the yard.

The gentle breeze teases my hair as my mind lays empty and open to whatever this afternoon holds. No planning. No anticipation. Just rest.

My new companion brought me a gift. The gift of now.

And after all, what is “6-18 months” other than a gift? Now is all we have. And perhaps, now is all we need.