Back to Basic Basics
Monday: the first weekday on the new project. I haven’t started the real digging yet, but I know a few basics I can restart on day one of the rest of my life. The most basic thing you can do, even with no plan at all, is to just start moving your body. I’ve lived this out many times. I know it works, but it’s also the advice Jonah Hill’s shrink gives in that movie on Netflix.
I’m super fortunate to have found my trainer, Uzor. He runs group workouts in an open gym format. Having a person there to tell me what to do makes all the difference. It means as long as I can drag my ass there by 9 a.m., Uz is there to get it moving. I always walk out feeling and moving better than I did walking in.
Having a physical disability with wacky neuropathy, hyper muscle tone, chronic pain, and a tendency to fail to meet internal expectations, it’s really easy for me to come up with a convincing story to tell myself for skipping the gym on the “hard days.”
And who is going to say anything if I claim, “Sorry, can’t do it, I’m having a hard day”? Everyone just sends me one of these 🙏🏼. It’s an ace up my sleeve to get out of anything. I know it’s a self-defeating strategy, but you’ve got to use what you’ve got.
The strategy, while effective, is pure silliness. I feel the worst on the days I move the least. If I spend a day babying my pain, I feel worse, physically and mentally. If it’s just too much today, then I’m going to feel that way all day long.
I’ve found that if I want to feel better inside my body, I have to get it moving and warmed up. My body is hypersensitive to temperature. In the winter, if I don’t make an effort to get moving and warmed up, I never will. When it’s summer in AZ, I wake up warmed up. I love the heat.
Monday morning, I did my part—I showed up. Uz is always ready to laugh. Some days, we laugh a lot. On busy days, Ryan the quiet introvert shows up for workouts. There were only three of us this morning, and we got laughing. That has to be the best way to get your mind and body going—a good workout and a good laugh.
I showed up to Mom’s house around 2 o’clock. I was so happy to find her sitting in the sun on the front patio. Dad came out with a round of Modelo Especials—gold foil, no limes. We sat around and talked like old friends. I know technically they are my oldest friends; it just hasn’t always felt that way.
Last week’s episode of Hidden Brain (my favorite podcast) was about the positive impact storytelling has on resilience. With everything we’re going through, I’m feeling nostalgic. I’ve made it a point to ask my parents and Grandma to tell me about their childhoods and newlywed years.
I feel so fortunate to have this time with them. Mom almost died over Christmas 2022. I was there, but I wasn’t worried because it was “just an infection,” not the cancer. Recently, she told me she thought she was dying back then.
This project reminded me that curiosity is one of my values. To make the most of this time, I’m leaning into being curious. I’m asking lots of questions and trying to soak it all up while I can.
My Uncle Gregg passed away a few years ago. He was the storyteller for that whole side of my family. I used to love sitting with him while he spun hilarious and vibrant stories about the alcohol-fueled shenanigans my relatives from the Mad Men generation got up to.
It’s an important role to play for your family. Now that he’s gone, so are all those stories. Dad will tell me details and things he remembers about growing up. I love hearing him share, but it’s not the same as hearing one of Gregg’s stories.
When I had my accident, Gregg showed up at my bedside more than anyone else. My family kept a vigil for the first month; things were touch and go. With all the tubes and paralysis, I could only blink my eyes to communicate.
Gregg took on the lion’s share of sitting by my bed for countless hours, just to give me a little reassurance in the brief moments I was awake. I came back to AZ after surviving two weeks in the ICU in CA. I was more with it once I got to St. Joe’s in Phoenix. Gregg would come every day with stories to tell about his day and the past.
Actively trying to make the most of my time with Mom is making me reflect on all you lose when the people in your family die. I’m only just beginning to realize the depth of what I lost when Uncle Gregg passed away.
Storytelling is something I’ve made an effort to be better at. I’m only just realizing it’s the perfect way for me to honor Gregg’s legacy.
Porch time with my parents wrapped up when Dad returned with Mom’s pain meds and announced he was heading to the dispensary for more of Mom’s gummies.
Mom asked if I wanted anything. I realized some things will never change. She will never stop trying to get me what I need. I also thought, wow, we have made some real progress as a society if my dad is down to buy me weed.
When I said, “Sure!” I watched him get overwhelmed. When I continued, “Just get me a half-ounce of the dankest hybrid they’ve got in flower,” he took half a beat before sitting down to make a note in his phone.
He came back with a Cookies strain testing over 33%. I congratulated him, “Well done, Dad! Super dank! How’d it go?” He said, “Great. I handed my phone to the guy. He read what you wanted, laughed, and said, ‘I’ve got you, my dude.’”
Mom’s brother, Corwin, and sister, Jenny are coming to town at the end of this week. Mom’s house cleaner got both guest rooms set up for them. This meant I needed a new place in the house to set up camp.
They have this antique chair we’ve had since before I was born. It’s set up in the hallway outside Mom’s room. I’ve been sitting in this chair my whole life. It’s a perfect spot to write and watch Mom sleep.
Back to basics, I cracked my “to-do notebook” for the first time in what felt like a long time.
Years ago, I adopted the Mead Five Star 3”x5” spiral notebook as my default to-do list. They typically last 6–8 months. Completed notebooks serve a couple of purposes, but primarily they serve as a visual reminder to myself that I have, and can, get things done if I write them down.