344 // Rebuild Endurance

This morning is off to a nice, smooth start. I got up on time and made it through my routine easily. I’ve started thinking of each day as beginning the night before and sticking to a bedtime routine that helps me prepare that included going over my to do list, getting my bags and clothes ready, and spending some time cleaning. This week my stress levels are notably lower, and I’m spending less time laying awake at night with worry.

I think getting back into my daily meditation groove is helping too. I didn’t realize how much I had missed, or needed, those 10 to 15 minutes of focusing on body and breath every morning. It’s hard not to beat myself up over the months’ long lapse but I’m countering it with plenty of praise for taking up the practice again.

Symptom-wise, I only continue to improve. Some side effect of the new meds is joint pain and headaches, but even those discomforts are getting better with time. Every day my energy and drive increase and so does my ability to find purpose and joy.

The doctor mentioned that a big contributor to my fatigue may be a depletion serotonin levels. I had no idea that so much of the body’s supply of the “happy chemical” was made and utilized in and by the gut. I’ve been advised to manage my emotions and rebuild endurance through time, rest, and plenty of self-care and forgiveness. The journey so far is easier than expected. It helps to have so much to be grateful for.

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343 // Self-Care Is Medicine

I was meant to be at work today but instead was forced to stay home in bed by a nasty neck pain/tension headache combo that no cream, sleeping position, or pain reliever would touch. I worried I’d be incapacitated all day, but a few extra hours spent resting in dark and silence did the trick, and by mind morning I felt a lot more like a human being again.

I had hoped not to need to miss anymore work for a while since I’ve been feeling so much better, but medications, and coming off of medications, come with their own side effects. My body is only adjusting.

There was some good news, too. For the first time in many, many months I had an appointment with my doctor that was all positivity and hope.

One interesting things we talked about was the increasing effect my mental state is going to have on my symptoms from now on. It turns out that because of all the ongoing inflammation and scarring, my gut will never be the same. My system is going to be a little more sensitive than most, a little more at the mercy of outside influence.

I will have to get used to a new normal, and that means listening and acknowledging not just my body, but my feelings too.

Everyone’s gut is affected by emotion, but for someone like me who’s gut has sustained so much damage, every bad day and stressful situation is going to mean discomfort and distress. That means getting enough sleep, meditating, exercising, journaling, taking time for myself and doing the things I love are much more than necessities. They are now treatment.

They are medicine that must be taken daily as prescribed, as scheduled, as needed.

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Goals // Week 50: Start Small

This week will be another condensed one. The district I work for has decided to continue with 100% remote learning at least through the new year so though I’m still expected to work there is little to do and the hours are greatly reduced. I’m not complaining at all. I still get paid and there are many more hours I get to claim as my own.

So, this week I’m going to take some steps toward returning to my old life. My new medication and treatment plan are working wonders, and with the addition of a myriad of supplements, I hope to only go on improving more and more.

The sudden influx of energy makes me feel as if my mind has been rebooted, reformatted, and my whole perspective realigned. I am no longer forced to focus solely on the body. I now have the luxury of problem solving, planning, reflection, and abstract contemplation. I can think again.

This week I’d like to put that energy and focus to good use. This week I’d like to start small and write one thing, read one thing, and plan for one project in the future. I’m not expecting anything big. If that one thing is only a sentence, a chapter, or a line in the calendar, I’ll count the week as a success.

This week I will:

Meditate every morning. Some months ago, I embarked on a journey to cultivate a daily meditation habit. I’d been doing well, managing to wake up early every morning for weeks to fit in 10 minutes of breath and body, but as my illness got worse my mornings became too difficult to expect more than the bare minimum before work. Now that I am feeling better and waking up easily with the alarm again, it’s time to get back to the basics before I start the “Headspace 365” course in the new year.

Read before bed every night. I’ve been doing really well making time each day for a few pages, but this week I’d like to set some more specific goals. I’m on book ## of my Penguin Little Black Classics, and I’d like to finish the 50 pages before Friday. I’m also slowly working my way through Simone de Beauvoir’s tome, The Second Sex. I don’t expect to finish it anytime soon, but I’d like to find myself 100 pages ahead of where I am at today come the weekend.

Go for a walk. I’ve set reminders on my phone through the first part of the week to make sure I get outside and enjoy the weather. I’m sure the sun and that warmth will do wonders for my mood and go a long way toward helping me heal. The second part of the week won’t be as conducive to outside activities, but I’ve recently acquired a treadmill and though it will have to be indoors, the act of getting up and moving my body is a good idea no matter where I am.

Write one long form blog post. I have a writing schedule kind of mapped out, all I need now is a list of topics and I can start writing more regularly. I’d like to try this week to get 500 or 1000 words down toward a blog post. I miss the kind of blogging I used to do when I first started, and I’ve been trying for a long time to find my way back. This week I just have to spend a little time every day organizing some thoughts, then muster the courage to finish and hit publish.

Write for me. A few weeks ago, I dug out my old Moleskine journal. I hadn’t written in it since before the pandemic, and trying to find a way to begin again felt impossible. How can I wrap up the last 10 months of my life and then get on as if I have been documenting my thoughts this whole time? The reality is, I can’. I have to move on and begin again, no matter how ugly or strange it may look or feel.

This week I won’t let the pandemic, or worries about the future get me down. There is no particular anxiety or fear I can point to or solve, but instead a general cloud of uncertainty and frustration that leaves me despondent and evermore irritable. I’m no longer happy at home or work because hardly anything is in my control and what is doesn’t seem to matter much.

But I’ve realized more is in my control than I could see because I was stuck in an old way of thinking about the world and work. I’m angry and a bit afraid when I have to work and that makes me give up on my projects and tasks before I’ve begun, but this week I will start by accepting this reality and instead of trying to do the same work I always have I’ll find new projects and ways to thrive and succeed.

And when I’m not at work, which has been a lot more time than in the pre-pandemic days, I won’t wallow in what could be and isn’t, what I want and can’t have, or where I wish I was and can’t be. I’m going to keep this list and my priorities close and hand and heart and spend the hours doing what I know will make me proud comes the week’s end.

Photo by Bailey Zindel on Unsplash

Hit Em Where It Hurts

Sunshine, bathe me, lately life’s been crazy
Your Eyes, tell all, we outside with it, your call
Move me, Need Me, care about it, breath deep
You see, what I miss, holdin on to ya with a tight grip
Light Lit, no cap, heart spilled all over the Floor mat
Tongue out, I don’t know how to hold that
Nowadays I don’t really want to hold back

So I hit em where it hurts
So I hit em where it hurts, (Set sail, lighthouse, Search)

339 // I Don’t Want to Go Back

This morning is adhering a lot closer to plan than the last few have. I’m up before the sun, my favorite time of day as long as I get to spend it sipping coffee and reading in bed next to a sunny window rather than stumbling through the beginning of the workday routine, and from here things are only looking up. I have nowhere to be and nothing much at all I have to do.

These days, these not quite work days but not quite weekends, are quickly becoming a large source of peace and fulfillment for me. I’m concerned about how hard it’s going to be to return to a full-time work schedule after the turn of the new year, and even more so after the corona virus vaccine becomes widely available and distributed.

The pandemic has really put into focus what matters, and at the top of that list is time. It’s become clear how much of it I have been giving up, how much we’ve all been giving up. Forty hours—and often more!—a week spent doing what? I love my job, but it isn’t for me. I don’t do it because I love it; I do it to survive.

I have to give up my life in order to live? It’s all so contradictory, depressing, and, the longer the pandemic wears on, infuriating.

I want the pandemic to end, but I do hope life doesn’t just go back to normal after it’s safe to leave our homes and be within six feet of each other again. I don’t want to go back to working so many hours a week. I don’t want to go back to feeling guilty for staying home when I’m sick. I don’t want to go back to long meetings, and crowded offices, and impossible expectations.

Sadly, I suspect everything in the workplace will go back to the way it was and faster than I can adjust physically or emotionally. People are just too happy with what is familiar even if a little change, uncomfortable adjustment, and imagination is all it takes to give a world with a little more balance, peace, and, most importantly, time.

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Sever the Sightlines

[S]haming has social meaning. It characteristically results in a desire to sever the sightlines between the self and the other. We talk about wanting to hide our faces and the characteristic look of shame—the head bowed, the eyes lowered. But that’s not the only way of achieving such separation. Rather than hide, one can instead do away with the onlooker. ‘He who is ashamed would like to force the world not to look at him, not to notice his exposure. He would like to destroy the eyes of the world,’ as Erik Erikson famously put it (1963, 227).

— Kate Manne, Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny

Civilization Is Relative

The Invention of Race // Throughline Podcast

“[Franz] Boaz introduced ideas into American life that shape how we think about the world to this day. Race is a construct, culture is relative, Western civilization is not inherently greater. History is not linear, and neither is human progress.”

338 // A Minor Mistake

Yesterday I was grateful for modern medicine, today I loath the entire American health care industry.

Long story short, I made a minor mistake that resulted in needing my medication replaced, not refilled, but my insurance provider refused. They admitted that the mistake was both understandable and commonplace, but instead of having a simple and compassionate solution ready; I was directed back and forth from department to department and between them and the drug company again and again and again.

The process was stressful and disappointing at every level. I was left feeling incompetent, completely alone, and terrified of what a missed dose might mean.

The worst part of any illness isn’t the illness itself but dealing with pharmacies, drug companies, insurance providers, and all their bureaucratic roadblocks and the problem is infinitely worse that illness and consequently the bureaucratic roadblocks are chronic.

The good news is that within this cruel and capitalist system there are a few good people and between my doctor and the nurse ambassador with the drug company I’ve been reassured I will probably be okay and that I am not, in fact, the world’s number one failure.

So, so much for a day that belonged to me. I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening trying to destress and salvage some self-esteem. Ordering a pizza with my favorite toppings, watching old episodes of Veep, and knowing I still have tomorrow to myself helps a lot. Today wasn’t a good one, but it’s already in the past and soon it will join every other bad day I’ve ever had as a distant and dim memory, something to laugh about or repress forever.

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