Forever Hopeful, Forever Bold
it’s summer
Hello Friends!
I took a bit of a break to finish up a project I’ve been working on, and now that it’s done, I’m back to my regular routine. I hope to have more details later this year about my project, but in the meantime, on to my post for today.
There’s a bumblebee who tends the foxgloves in my garden. He arrives every morning before I wake: he’s out there when I come down for breakfast. I see him from my window, ducking into each flower as if bar-hopping. His tiny body just fits inside, silhouetted against the ghostly white petals. He stays just long enough, whispering secrets only he and the flower understand.
This year’s spring was a short one wedged between late winter winds and early heat. Summer arrived nine days ago—how quickly the calendar advances! But a week before the solstice summer exhaled his unseasonably hot breath and temperatures rose near 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Unfortunately, this heat, normally reserved for August, had burned some of my foxglove blooms.
Thankfully, the oven-like days were followed by a week and a half of rain, dropping the temperatures back down to light sweater weather. I was deeply grateful as was my garden.
But despite it all the bee returned, day after day, to whisper to the flowers so they would continue to grow. Nature is forever hopeful, forever bold in its resilience.
Reflecting On
resilience
A few years ago I started to notice dizziness whenever I lifted my head to grab a box from a high shelf or bend down to dig in my garden. A month or two later this condition morphed into a daily occurrence, eventually keeping me from driving and working for more than a few hours a day. I was diagnosed with vestibular migraines, an illness adjacent to “normal” migraines, but instead of headaches and ocular auras, I became dizzy. These kinds of migraines can also be accompanied by nausea, headaches, hearing abnormalities, and visual disturbances. Over the last two years I suffered daily from this condition, and it took quite a while for the many doctors I saw to diagnose me.
Finally, through a special diet and vestibular therapy, my condition improved. I can now drive and work normally. And even though there are still days when I need to work from home, (thankfully, I have a great boss), for the most part, I successfully navigated those terribly dark years and emerged on the other side more resilient than ever.
The Heart of It
It’s frightening to walk through life unbalanced. Showers and getting dressed become challenging. Shoes with different heel heights become a puzzle because any small variation can throw a body into a dizzy state when suffering from vestibular migraines.
But I’ve learned a lot.
A life out of balance in any way is trying to teach us something about ourselves. Eating too much, indulging in too much TV, ignoring exercise or getting too little sleep can create an unbalanced body, mind, and soul. Ignoring creativity or moments of quiet reflection can cause crankiness, irritation, and boredom.
The internet is full of self-care articles, especially now with all the political craziness and world-wide wars: our psyches need a break. We need to move back towards balance. In an effort to do that, some of the questions I ask myself are:
In what other ways is your life unbalanced? Name each area of imbalance.
What might help bring your life back in balance? Better diet or sleep? A day working on a special project?
Find areas of procrastination in your life and finish one project you’ve been putting aside. Do you feel more centered afterwards?
Name five particular ways you feel the most centered.
In Closing
Bringing myself back in balance took two years of work, physically and psychologically. Vestibular therapy treated my physical body, helping my nerves and muscles find their way back to center. Psychological therapy treated my mind, helping me accept my new illness, and giving me ways to cope with my new limitations. It’s not easy having to approach the world in a new, unfamiliar way. There were so many days I felt nauseated by the dizziness, felt like giving up on my exercises, my coping mechanisms, and my dreams of feeling better. But like the plants in my garden, there was a voice inside, helping me bloom. It whispered of nourishing rain and growth in the days of sunlight ahead.
This voice is inside all of us, always bringing us back to center, offering hope, and encouraging us to see our own resilience—if we will only listen.
How are you bringing yourself back to center these days? Let me know in the comments.
Until next time,
Jan
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*All writing on this Substack is original by Jan M. Alexander © 2025. All rights reserved.
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