Keeping it together … or NOT

I seem to write a lot of blogs about feeling overwhelmed; but the truth is, that’s how I feel much of the time. My friend, Bobette, who seems to get more done than anyone I know, pointed out that I am only one person and can only do so much. “You have too many things going on,” another friend said today. “OK. So, what should I get rid of?” I asked. “Not me,” was her reply, not that I would. That’s just the point. What do I eliminate?

Let’s start with clients. At the moment, I have several book clients, all in various stages of writing or producing their books. I am thrilled to have them and totally committed to their projects. But I never realized how many details there are to guiding authors through the gazillion steps in writing, publishing, and promoting their books. Every step seems to take forever, and if I drop a ball, such as a few e-mail responses, I fall behind and my clients become unhappy campers. I need lists upon lists to keep up with everything I’m supposed to be doing, and even list making takes time.

How about self-care and general health issues? This is massively time consuming, especially as one gets older. I was told by a neurosurgeon that if I want to avoid back surgery (and I do!), I will have to exercise an hour a day for the rest of my life. I am nowhere near that goal and doubt that I ever will be. On top of working out the three or four times a week I do manage, I am in physical therapy and taking a Pilates class, all in the interest of that pesky back. Doctor’s appointments show up in my planner by magic. Inexplicably, annual checkups for every inch of my body seem to occur much more often than once a year.

Marketing my business and my two latest books could become a full-time job if I didn’t already have a full-time job. Marketing is a catchall word for keeping up with Web sites, social networking, blogging, and correspondence from potential clients. Whoever invented social networking was one part genius and one part sadist. How people find time to get on Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter, and all the other possible places to meet and greet “friends” is beyond me. I am guilt ridden when I do because it takes so much time and guilt ridden when I don’t because I am failing in my market obligations.

Personal grooming for women is important, but once again, time consuming. Of course, it would take less time if I didn’t have standing appointments with a hairdresser and nail tech who are located 20 miles from my house. Speaking of house—which includes cleaning, doing laundry and dishes, grocery shopping and running errands—that little word eats of whole days.

I know I left out a bunch of activities, especially reading. I am a BIG reader. I don’t watch TV or go to movies, but I definitely read. I guess that’s expendable, but on a mental health level, it really isn’t. Besides, I am addicted to books. Then, of course, in the last-but-not-least category are family and friends. If anything has gotten short shift in my overcrowded life, it is these VIPs. The sentence, “Let’s get together” strikes fear in my heart. When can I do that? I have no idea.

So much for my latest I’m-too-busy-to-breathe rant. Thanks for putting up with yet another one.

A Little Help From My Friends

Most of us would rather be givers than takers. We prefer do a favor or buy a gift for someone else than accept one. We shudder at the idea that we might ever be dependent on our children for financial or physical assistance. We do not want to be a burden.

I was in a discussion group a while ago where this subject came up. One couple had lived in China and Africa for several years and described the tradition and, in fact, the law that mandates the care of aging parents by their children. “It’s accepted. In fact, it’s expected,” they said. “This is the only society we know of where this is not the case.”

Those of us over 60 were intrigued but not convinced. No way will that happen, we said, though not all of us really knew how we would make it to 90 in our present financial circumstances.

Sometimes, we just need help, and there is no way around it. We are sick or broke or have an accident or surgery and simply can’t get through this particular crisis alone. We either have to ask for help or accept it when it’s offered. I had such an experience today. I had to have a minor medical procedure, and the doctor insisted that I have someone drive me home when it was over. I considered taking a cab, but, in terms of getting home, this was not acceptable.

I mentioned this to my workout partner, who said, “No problem. I’ll drive you there,” settling the matter in five seconds. I thought I had the ride home taken care of when it fell through this morning. I didn’t want to do it, but I called another friend and said I needed a favor. “Of course,” she responded. “Do you have a ride there? I’ll be happy to pick you up, stay with you, and bring you home.” I was very touched but assured her I had the first one covered and would be fine alone. She and her husband picked me up in a dismal rain, walked me to my door, and kissed me goodbye.

I’m doing as the doctor ordered: taking it easy for the rest of the day. I’m also contemplating the value of good friends who graciously came through when I needed them. Sometimes, despite our stubbornness on this issue, it really is better to receive than to give.

B.F.F. (Best Friends Forever)

I talked to my oldest friend today—I don’t mean in age; I mean in years of friendship. We met in 1949 in seventh grade on the south side of Chicago. We were twelve. Being a mathematical wizard, I just figured out we have been friends for 60 years. No matter how you look at it, that’s pretty amazing.

If someone had told me then that we would be on the phone, in our seventies, living 2000 miles apart, but still sharing confidences and comparing notes, I’d have rolled my eyes in disbelief. Yeah, right. (Of course, in those days we neither rolled our eyes nor said, yeah, right.)

Seventh grade was before either of us had been out on a first date, put on lipstick, or understood the concept of being “popular.” We fought with her big brother, baby sat for my little sister, and lamented that our mothers didn’t understand us. She sang and danced; I drew and painted. We stormed through adolescence, doubled dated in high school, and lived different lives at college.

She got married and had a baby when we ourselves were still babies. She lived on a kibbutz, while I went to fraternity parties on campus. She was unconventional and free spirited; I moved through the stages of my life as if I were following an invisible plan. We both learned about divorce the hard way. She got a master’s degree and remarried. I built a life as a writer. Her life looked exciting to me; I’m not sure how mine seemed to her. Now, she is retired, and I have reinvented myself, yet again.

Years passed, always finding us in different cities but somehow keeping the ties of our friendship firmly knotted. We saw each other infrequently, always swearing we would celebrate our next milestone birthday or anniversary together but never quite pulling it off.

Now, suddenly, six decades have passed, and we realize we can’t always assume we’ll get together sometime soon. What if there is no sometime soon? What if there is only now, and we are blowing it by thinking we have forever? No one has forever. Few people have friendships that remain intact and intimate for so long. Life is unpredictable, uncertain.

That’s why we are making definite plans for Christmas 2009 to celebrate our extraordinary friendship.