Growing Pains

I feel like this past week I've been waking up from a weird rut I've been in for who knows how long.  This blog is called the Meandering Thoughts of Jan, so come meander with me, because I feel like I need to sort out some thoughts as I’ve been trying to sort out my life.  I've been contemplating the (sometimes not-so-lovely) art of getting older.  Lately I've been feeling much older than my actual age.  This kind of dawned on me a couple of weeks ago when I was buying some new tunes.  My tastes have chilled out quite a bit, which isn't a bad thing.  In fact, quite a few musicians that I’ve enjoyed for years now seem to be chilling out right along with me.  It reminded me of a conversation I had with my mom back when I was about 23.  I was telling her about a concert that I had either been to or was coming up.  She smiled and listened and once I had completed my raving about whatever band at the time, she said, "You know, when you are young, you crave the loud, flashy, excitement, but as you grow older you long for more peace and quiet."  I have found myself going down the road of wanting peace and quiet more and more.

Which brings me to my latest theory about aging.  I think I've always viewed getting older or maturing as a fluid state; however, I have changed my mind.  I decided it is more bursts of growth spurts.  Much like being stuck in traffic. You stay the same for a bit, get a break in your lane, speed forward only to find you have to  slam on your breaks again and wait some more for the next break.  Sometimes I view the break as exciting and exhilarating with the idea of moving forward, other times it feels like going too fast, on the verge of running out of fuel.  My example of this comes as I think about my high school years and early college years.  Yes, I matured a bit, but relatively had the same mentality about life.  Then I went on a mission (which is really like a mini-lifetime in a lifetime) and I was stretched to the core.  It caused me to view the world, people and myself in a new light.  I was in situations that were beyond my years of knowing what to do, but thank goodness as a missionary you have the Lord's help.  I came home and, let's be honest, regressed a bit, but I feel I stayed generally the same for most of my 20-something life.  Yet, as I ponder the past couple of years, I see them as another intense growth spurt of being stretched to the core.  Wisdom comes with periods of growth, but so does weariness.  I feel tired.

Last week I went to another doctor’s visit. I have so many of those these days.  I've been seeing doctors concerning trying to have a baby for over a year now.  It has been a roller coaster of an experience, one I haven't really talked about on the blog.  I found out at this visit that for the 2nd month in a row my body has mysteriously stopped responding to the fertility drugs.  My doctor was perplexed.  I was discouraged.  My doctor asked me if I had been stressed lately.  Along with all the fertility treatments, work has been increasingly busy and there is always church callings and other aspects of life.  I kind of laughed at her question and nodded.  She explained seriously that I needed to figure out how to slow down, because stress can affect the body in responding to the shots I had been taking.  You know what is the worst, when you are stressed and someone tells you not to be.  I’m not blaming my doctor for this at all.  However, now whenever I start stressing, I get all panicky that I’m feeling stressed.  It’s a vicious cycle.

After this conversation I had with my doctor, I had a couple low days.  I’m particularly grateful for Talena who dropped everything and came to my house that night for the very reason to have a pity party, where somehow the letter P became the theme of night.  We watched “Pitch Perfect”, worked on a puzzle (because we are cool like that) and had dinner at Paradise Bakery.  Having her there definitely helped.

After a few days of wallowing, I was sitting in my dusty house (no seriously you guys, I am horrible at dusting so I mean that) and just kind of came to.  I accepted the realization that the reins of my life had slipped through my grip for awhile now and I have been chasing after it for laps and laps.  I was semi-keeping up with tasks, but not really life, if that makes any sense.  They say you are only as old as you feel. Perhaps this all leads back to me feeling much older than I really am, both physically and mentally. (Part of this can be contributed to the fact that fertility drugs sure have some mean side effects.)  I couldn’t come to a conclusion of how to get back on the wagon, if you will.  All I wanted to do was retreat.  As I surveyed my home, the only thing I could think to do was to clean. It felt like the only thing I could do.  Just like everything else, I have also been behind on every chore.  So for the past two days Danny and I have scrubbed this house.  With drippy cleaning gloves, a soaking sponge and the strong fumes of bleach, I’ve scrubbed ceilings, walls and floors.  In hopes that if I clean out the literal around me, perhaps the rest of life will follow in suit and fall into order.  Perhaps it sounds a bit OCD of me, but honestly, it is my own way of reclaiming what is within my control, which doesn’t feel like much. I’m trying to learn to let go of all else in my life. I can’t change work.  I can’t change the outcome of all these treatments. I can’t change what others do or think.  But I can work on my own surroundings and what things I allow into those surroundings; if those things will uplift or detract. Cleaning and organizing was the only starting point I could think of. I’m not sure if it will work, but in some ways, I feel better.