Diffusing Stress -- Another Name for Escaping Reality? Part One

My husband is a really hard worker.  When I first knew him, he was a professional bicycle racer, away for four days in a row at races all over the country for two weeks every month, frequently accepting sudden offers to race as a substitute, or act as a pacemaker (leading the nine racers around the track for the initial four laps, breaking the wind for them) in addition to his usual race load. He never complained. He was a very strong athlete, with great endurance.

After marriage, he continued to race full-time, while planning and preparing a bicycle shop he would then run simultaneously while still racing, for many years. He never took a day off. You think I'm kidding, right? No, he NEVER took a regular day off. Sometimes he would schedule a vacation and fly to France to visit close friends by himself, and occasionally our family would drive up to the mountains for a one-night stay just to take a fast break before diving back into a crazy schedule again. But if he was home, he was usually in the bike shop. So I got used to being married to a workaholic, and ended up taking my son with me to go to church, visit family in the states and Japan, and ended up playing with him (and raising him) the most between the two of us.

Even after retiring from racing, my husband worked nonstop in our shop, never taking a day off, for many years. I don't remember the exact time when he finally allowed himself to take a weekly holiday, but I'd guess it was in his late forties. My son was already in high school by then.

Our shop suffered along with all the other small businesses in Japan after the 'bubble economy' burst in the early 1990's. So my husband began juggling a variety of part-time jobs and has continued doing so ever since. He got his "large vehicles" driver's license and worked as a long-distance freight truck driver for a time. He also worked the night shift at a delivery company, loading and unloading heavy boxes from delivery trucks till he couldn't feel the tips of his fingers anymore. Fearing for his health, he'd search for something else and changed employers. He spent ten years coaching university bicycle racers while developing their club activities. Many jobs were thankless and even payless, as employers made big promises that fell through AFTER the hard work had been done. It was very frustrating watching my hard-working hubby suffer for our sake.

Currently, he does maintenance work at a retirement facility/nursing home part-time, while juggling another job in the bicycle department of a home center (is this expression used in the states these days? It means a really large hardware/housewares store mixed with a nursery/gardening department). He is their star salesman, and can fix absolutely ANYthing broken on a customer's bike! After joining the home center's staff, he got the nickname "Kami-sama" (God) because the bike dept. revenue increased 30% and his reputation had no rival. He's happiest working in that environment, needless to say!

Despite there being laws against such practice, he is often scheduled by the retirement facility to work a day shift, followed by a night shift, or a night shift followed by a day shift, or the absolute worst: a day shift--night shift--day shift combo that really saps him of all energy. Because he is working two different part-time jobs, he tends to over schedule himself anyway, leading to severe exhaustion, more and more common after he entered his sixties.

I've explained all that to lead in to the theme of this post, which is Stress Diffusion. Before coming to Japan in 1982, I hadn't heard much about stress or the need to diffuse it, either. But it's a big deal in Japan! And perhaps you can guess why, if my husband is any kind of representative example. People tend to overwork themselves here in this country. At least before the economy collapsed (as I referred to previously), working really hard for your employer was fairly standard practice; people in my husband's generation are all relatively stoic, hard workers. Thus, having more than your fair share of stress is also a given. I'll expound on that in Part Two.

Getting Back in the Saddle Again

Initially I began this blog as a therapeutic tool to process my turbulent feelings during my father's battle with Alzheimer's, and his death that followed. After the "need" for catharsis passed, I found a new hobby (watching Korean dramas) and haven't posted anything much in years.

My mom is 93 and we speak on the phone every other Saturday night. She is 'allergic' to the Internet, so she hasn't ever looked up this blog herself, but I've sent her printouts of my writings in the past and she is a very enthusiastic supporter. In fact, these days she keeps nagging me to write a book on all my experiences living in a foreign country. It feels a bit overwhelming at this point to revive many  memories that have fallen by the wayside, or have become buried too deeply to recall. Yet, I'd like to fulfil this wish of my mum's, knowing that her belief in my ability to articulate my experiences has largely motivated our extensive written correspondence through the years, as well as provided me the courage to keep journal entries during certain significant periods of my life. In fact, whenever I happen to find an old journal and read through it, I am transported to that event and period in my life as surely as if I rode in a time machine! The written word is indeed a powerful medium!

The concept of "writing a book" is daunting to begin with, so I thought I should just begin blogging again instead. I do have moments of thoughtful contemplation; I simply lost the habit of jotting them down. Because it has been ages since I even took a look at the Blogger Dashboard, I was quite surprised to see some people still check my blog from time to time. For all those kind souls, I apologise for my silence, and hope to get back in the saddle again here on out.

And a Year and a Half Later Still...

Just wanted to document a recent change in my journey through Menopause.

Ever since I fell to my knees on concrete (not once, but twice, and only six weeks apart), injuring my knees so badly that I have since learned to live with daily pain, I had been locked in a narrow, stifling box of hopelessness. I gave up aqua-walking, afraid to strain my knee joints further, and 'life without exercise' had paralyzed my motivation to change. I was simply trying to cope with physically feeling twenty years older than 55, trapped in an endless losing battle.

But an embarrassing event occurred recently at a restaurant that proved to become the catalyst for change within my heart and mind. When relaying the incident to a friend on Facebook, as I relived the humiliation and thought back with longing to more active days at the pool, our chat evolved into a mutual plea for a "silent partner" to help each of us lose weight and change our current physical situations. We made a pact to pray for each other, and report our progress whenever we could. Her interest in seeing me overcome my despair, and my desire to help her through some of her difficulties has given each of us the hope to change, and has been the encouragement we both needed to snap out of the funk each of us found herself in.

That was three weeks ago. I have been to the pool four times so far; I am starting off slowly, but I already feel a change within me. It's exciting to gradually take control over my situation again. I am not sure if menopause is officially over, but the end is in sight, anyway. I'll try to keep you posted.

Eight Months Later...

When things on the Internet change, it sometimes sets people back a bit. I get used to one way of doing something and when a shift happens to change that routine, I don't always realize how I've been affected.

A good example is this blog.

I joined Facebook and began connecting with old friends I thought I'd lost forever, or making new friends I spend a lot of energy and time talking with now, and what was lost was my need to have this place to express myself. I stopped having something to say here, because I'd said it all to someone in Facebook already!

And Google changed, too. The way I used to get into "Blogger" was by clicking on a certain symbol on the Google homepage interface that no longer exists. So without realizing it, I stopped dropping into the blogger dashboard to check on blogs I was following and nearly the entire year has sped by unnoticed. I'm still not sure how to get to "Dashboard" from the Google homepage.

Are there still people out there who check my blog to see if I wrote something new? I doubt it. I never developed much of a following to begin with. Only five people were ever willing to admit they followed it. I mostly used this blog to work through my feelings of loss while my dad went through Alzheimer's and then passed away, now three full years ago. I guess that truth be told, that was the main purpose of beginning the blog in the first place.

I don't want to close up the blog, because I like having this place in cyber space to call my own. But I also know I will not be coming back regularly to talk to all of you, so please accept my apology ahead of time. It will seem like I don't care anymore. I do, but I am busy caring elsewhere; that's all!

Thank you for checking in on me. May all of you flourish wherever you are planted!

Julie and Julia

I just finished watching the movie, Julie and Julia. I am a big fan of Meryl Streep's work, and I wanted to see her rendition of Julia's unique way of speaking, sort of slurred and throaty. I didn't know it was a Nora Ephron film till I saw the opening credits. This gave me a sense of "yes" in my choice of titles, because I've loved many of the films she has written or directed. My instincts were correct. It was a wonderful film, entwining two true stories: how Julia Child became a French chef and wrote her famous book, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and about a woman named Julie who decided to take a year to go through that book, cooking up the 524 recipes, and blogging about her experiences.

My exposure to Julia Child has been limited yet typical, I think. I grew up seeing her show on PBS once in a while and had the prejudiced impression she was a lush, like a kitchen drinker. She was the brunt of many a joke and comedic skit, and imitated (often cruelly) by a large number of professional comedians on TV. I didn't take her too seriously, as a result, and I certainly didn't feel much respect for her craft or lifework. I went into viewing this film with more respect for Meryl Streep than the character she was to embrace on screen, something I am ashamed to admit, now, after watching the story.

I loved the movie. I loved Meryl's performance; she made me love Julia. If this representation of Julia is accurate, I would have loved Julia (had I known her personally) and I would have tried cooking French cuisine when I was younger, hands down. (Although, I have to admit it baffles me she was a smoker. Aren't smokers supposed to have killed their taste buds or something? This is my only criticism of the woman.) Her enthusiasm for life, and loving food, people, Paris, and challenges must have influenced nearly everyone she met.

I am greatly tempted to go out and buy her book, at long last, even though I have nearly completely given up cooking myself at this point in my life. If menopause ever finishes, I might even want to start cooking again, to be able to enjoy all those really seemingly delicious recipes the actors got to eat in that movie. I really, truly hope their ecstasy wasn't acting but simply the reflection of really delicious dishes, I could also cook for my husband (a diehard fan of all things French) at home.

Further, the blogging part of the movie gave me a kick in the butt about expressing myself on this blog as well, which I haven't been very interested in doing for the past year or more. I would have to say the movie inspired me to speak up. Yes, it was an inspirational film, no question.

If you haven't seen it yet (although I doubt anyone else out there is as behind in their movie-viewing as I am), promise me you will. It really is worth it. Viva la France! Viva la Julia! Viva Nora Ephron films!

Handicraft Hobbies

I have always enjoyed creating things. I sewed my own clothes in my teens and twenties, did embroidery projects or wrote poems in calligraphy and framed them in colored matte frames to give as gifts from childhood on, studied jewelry-making in high school and college and was honored to make the wedding bands for friends & my brother and sister-in-law. In my late teens I crocheted afghans for my brothers and parents, after my grandma had taught me the basics.

Handicrafts have always been a pleasant hobby, and my perfectionistic nature has helped me maintain a high standard for the finished products. The crafts created give me a great sense of satisfaction and well being. I tend to have low self-esteem, but creating something beautiful makes me feel as though I am living up to my potential, and gives me peace.

That said, it is perhaps unexpected to hear that I gave up most of my handicraft hobbies mid-life when I had T.B. and a number of other physical afflictions hit me simultaneously. Worst affected was my eyesight, making those crafts taxing on the eyes impossible to continue. Even after having laser surgeries on my eyes and recovering, I didn't go back to my creative hobbies; I turned to the television and computer instead.

My mother always encouraged me to do something creative while I struggled through menopause; she knew it would make me feel better and give me a sense of self-worth despite the blues that come with hormonal imbalance. But it was difficult to muster the energy to pick up new supplies and my feet dragged.

Yet, it has been in the past year or so that I have found both the motivation and opportunity to try my hand at some handicrafts again. I made a small wall hanging for friends moving away (shown up at the top of this post), & began making counted cross-stitch ornaments before Christmas to give as gifts. That encouraged me to do more embroidery.

Then, when I was looking around for the embroidery floss I'd put away more than a decade ago, I came across a box of yarn in various colors. Within the box was the first few rows of three different afghans I'd started but soon abandoned. One was in a color I really liked, so I pulled it out. This past week I have enjoyed discovering that crocheting is just like riding a bike; regardless of how long it's been since you gave it a try, it all comes back to you. Crocheting is easy and can be done while watching TV, or when keeping my husband company during his late evening suppers after a long day's work. It soothes me.

I look forward to becoming reacquainted with all the handicrafts I have known and mastered in the past. With my son grown and now married, I have the free time to return to my creative roots and enjoy a new period of artistic productivity.

All I Needed Was Time

Mac usage update:

It is now about 12 weeks since I began using my new Mac laptop computer. I LOVE it, and have become a firm believer in my son's Gospel According to Apple. I have since downloaded Word into its memory and am happily doing just about everything I used to do on my PC, as well as a myriad of new things learned on the Mac.

I don't feel like an old dog anymore. I feel like a brand new dog!! It appears that all I needed was a bit of time to get used to the higher technology. Maybe my menopause is ending, too, 'cause I have a new lease on life!

Thanks, son! I'm so happy with my Macintosh computer! Woof!