Epic Fail

I could say yesterday was a hard POTS day, because it WAS. This week has seen some ugly POTSholes. But in truth it’s always something, is it not?

So making excuses for my roadblock moments doesn’t turn a bad situation into a reasonable outcome … Or acceptable, or appropriate, or logical or graceful. All things my conditioned mind still holds in high regard.

Long not so shaggy dog story short … My escrow company was super kind to set up a mobile notary for my deed signature last night. Disabled and house bound provides significant challenges even in this expanding technology millennium.

I explained that I would need them to call before they left, in the event my body was pitching a fit and I would need to reschedule. Because saying someone will be there in three hours is a wide time frame for my narrow windows of opportunity.

When I received the call, the notary said she was in her car and 40 minutes out. So I lay down and rested best I could. I gave my daughter my phone when she texted “I’m here” and asked that she get her set up and ready for me to sign before I attempted to stand and deliver.

Minutes later, not hearing my daughter beckon … I got up and started looking around the house. It’s a big house. I called for Trish, loudly several times … Inside and out. For able bodied people this would have been a non issue … But speaking and standing is hard for me under easy circumstances.

Turns out the driver was at my old property .. the vacant one for sale. She offered to drive up to our new place … But by then my shaking was uncontrollable, my heart was pounding and catching my breath was a challenge. All of it .. more than I could muster in the orthostatic intolerance of the moment. And I gave Trish the call to cancel. Much to the dismay of the dear woman who had driven all that way.

As it was, it took me the better part of an hour to collect my POTS pieces. Was I also reptilian brain … Yes most definitely. It was a complete package, all tips and perks included cruise.

Fact is, for decades now my batting average for making a meeting is at best 50%. I do what I can to stack the odds … But it seems my oddities get the best of me at the most inconvenient times.

And in truth, I had left the dinner table the night before with an odd mast cell reaction. I’ve posted woes-me-BP memes just yesterday WHILE I was flat out having a bad flare. Cause my body shuts down on a no-moments-notice all the time.

But it’s THESE times, when people depended on me to get something done at a set time and date … When I feel so bitter and full of self loathing that I couldda shouldda handled it better.

My POTS peeps will empathize others may wonder why, my father will forgive me because I’ve been lucky in life to have one parent who loves me unconditionally. But at the end of a hard days night this is just what Life looks like. A person asked me recently … Is it panic or POTS that makes things hard to handle? It reminds me of that time my assistant director came into my office late one afternoon and said … People were talking and wanted to know if my illness was physical or mental. I remember feeling my heart skip a beat and a flash of heat shot thru my arms … But I turned slowly in my special order reclining lounge office chair with the built in elevated foot rest and responded with a calm smile “Is there a difference?” 

I spent decades believing I could “do more” if I focused my work on my anxiety response. CBT, EMDR, SE, EFT and the rest of alphabet soup with the finest MDs, PhDs, LCMFT, RNs there are. And I do believe my persistence allowed me to see clearly what things in my life were not within the locus of my control.  Ast I never did make a dent in the do-better part of the picture. Because for me it isn’t a chicken or the egg dilemma. It’s an omelet that is comprised of all the flavors, all the textures all the aromas of a five star kitchen.

For me this is what Life looks like having it all. It means, my schedule is unreliable, my actions inconvenient, I am certainly a burden to be accommodated or ignored as best my inner circle of support can muster in the moment. It’s hard on me, on my family, my friends, my doctors and all of the shoppers, delivery people, service persons and strangers who cross my path … if not also my orthostatic anger. I am THAT.

In my younger days, I may have created a chart with tasks and goals of trying again, doing more, pushing myself further into an ablebody’s mold of how someone is suppose to think, act, accomplish. I would have held on to hope that I’d do better if I worked harder at it, my family would love me if I stepped up my game, my mother would speak to me … It’s a long web of painful patterns.

But now .. as I look back on years of “failure” and my statistical brain says its just doesn’t look probable. A new tact is not what is needed. Doing “more” won’t lead to a larger life. And I suspect that crushes some hopes and dreams … if not also my own, but those close to me who hold out hope that I won’t always be so broken.

But the odds are that I will still miss about 50% of targeted goals … even the big, can’t miss, really important, if you love me you would, agendas. Because for whatever reason, this is the best that this total package can do. There’s simply not much more to do with it. Other than apologize to those I have impinged upon. Thank those who supported me. And collect my bearings as best I can and take the next step forward or backward because Life continues to move. For today, it will be finding another notary … who is closer by and I can explain the type of flexible schedule that I need to get this deed done.

Exhale. Was it a fail last night? Yep. On many categories of culpability. Do I need to look good and make excuses for myself? Oh sure, my habit brain still likes to try and paint a pretty picture, but I’m also open enough to see and say that I get my whackadoo cattywonkus crazy and own that as much as I wear my POTS heart on my sleeve. I am ALL THAT. There’s not string to pull upon that unravels the intertwined fabric of my limiting life that still feels as full and blessed as possible.  And though things may never change, anything is still possible in an Epic Tale.