It’s Been Awhile…

It’s good to sit down to write a blog post. It’s been awhile.

I’m gonna keep it short, and kinda reflective, since it’s New Year’s Eve after all.

Right now it’s raining, and I’m writing to the rhythm of the rain falling on my windows. It’s wonderful.

I don’t write resolutions. I’m a type #1 on the Enneagram, and I never need extra encouragement to work harder and reach for a goal! Ha. I do this enough every day as it is.

Instead, I sink into longings, into dreams, into rest. This year over Thanksgiving break, I wrote out my longings for 2019; these become my prayers and an ordinary piece of paper I return to as a reminder if I am choosing what I truly desire, or if I am hiding out of fear.

2019 looks like a lot of creativity! Of sinking even deeper roots, and to operate out of a foundation of gratitude.

Photo by Leonard von Bibra on Unsplash

2018 was a lot of letting go, and making room for new. It was a year about expression and asking questions about home. I came out as asexual, I got confirmed (what!?) in the Episcopal church, I learned qigong, I went back to Michigan, I did EMDR, I built my business to full-capacity, started my second year of spiritual direction training, & wrote my first draft of my . healing journey.

I made new friends, and I laughed a lot. My natural smile came back. I took myself more seriously. And more lightly. I came home to myself.

And I also spent more time alone & outside. And I loved it! And I learned that it’s not just about being an introvert, but about being serious about what I want and need. And that I can give myself permission to that time, while not neglecting community.

In 2018, I asked myself these questions, and they are ones I will keep asking.

What do I need?

What do I want?

What do I crave?

I often find myself needing and wanting rest so badly, and there are ways that I sabotage the rest that is right in front of me. This awareness is painful and yet I’ve done deep work to discover my right-sized capacity and also coming back to the question, “What is mine to do?”

2018 has been joy and grief. Loss and newness. Risk-taking and slowing down. Making mistakes and getting back up. Finding my power in the quiet places. Being a witness to my own life. Being a witness to the lives of others.

And as fatigue seemed to be all encompassing and overwhelming this December, I’m ending the year slowing down, coming back to simple eating, energy practices, spending lots of time in my sauna, sleeping. Spending less time asking the question, “What went wrong?” and instead trusting that my body knows how to heal itself.

May 2019 be a year of risk-taking, truth-telling, and joy. You deserve it.

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Health Update-Summer 2018

 

Twice a year or so, I write an update about my health.  This post is largely for me, to look back at later, and see the progress, remember that each decision I made for my health and putting myself first was worth it.  And it’s also for many of you, who have been following my story for awhile now.

So far, this summer is going very well.  I had some pretty severe symptoms when the weather changed, due to hay fever, however, using some Chinese medicine principles, I’m able to address the sneezing, itching eyes, eye pain, and fatigue.

At this point last year, I was having severe reactions to mold both at my workplace, apartment, & church.  And each reaction just made the next reaction worse.  I was unable to detox and the brain fog that I felt was horrible.

So this year, I am glad that I’m not moving, that I’m not switching jobs and starting a business–that in general, my body is able to detox so much better and the environments that I am in are pretty clean.

And the few days where I’ve had a reaction, and I know that I’ve had a mold exposure or my allergies are bad–I have the option to hop in the sauna or take an epsom salt bath–even sometimes both.

When I met with my doctor on Friday, there wasn’t much to say except, “I’m doing really well.”  We tweaked a few things on my treatment plan, and yet the main question that remained is, “What percentage are you at–from absolute worst to feeling as good as you can?”

85%.  We talked about how I desire even greater stamina, even greater focus and mental cognition.  But I’m almost there.

It’s been quite the journey.  And I’m very glad that I’m doing fairly well during my hardest season of the year.

Thanks to everyone for encouraging my journey in doing what I’ve needed to do to heal: from switching doctors, to IV’s, to supplements, to yoga, to acupuncture, to massage, to therapy, to meditation, to qigong, to diet and reintroducing foods back in, and the list could go on.

It’s been quite the journey.  And having a strong support system has been key in my healing.  Thank you.

Musings on Spring

 

Last fall I felt guilty moving to Westfield, Indiana.

My health was deteriorating quickly, and a friend looked me in the eyes, about to give really good advice to someone like me who struggles with environmental illness.

“You need to move north.”

North meant the suburbs.  Moving north because the buildings are newer and have less mold meant that I have the privilege to do so.  And so I moved.

For several months, I asked the question, “Why Westfield?”

The answers did not come quickly.  In fact, the glimpses are still coming, more and more every day.

It took moving to the suburbs after 10 years of living in various cities (Chicago, Memphis & Indy), to realize how much of my identity was wrapped up in a negation.  I was a white person who didn’t live in the suburbs.

How our identities form is so extremely nuanced and complex.  It’s crazy how many beliefs take hold without even realizing it.

Well, now I live in the suburbs.  And after living here for 8 months, I’ve experienced culture shock, and also a love of the quiet, of parks that surround me.  It’s been a place of rest in the midst of starting my life over in terms of work, home, and faith community.

It’s been a place where re-imagining has taken place.

It’s been a place to take deep breaths.

It’s been a place to become a pedestrian again.

It’s been a place to dig into intentionality.

It’s been a place that has brought back beautiful place memories of my childhood.

It’s been a place to lean into the history of the land.  I live on the land taken from the Miami people, and “founded” by Quaker abolitionists.  I’m learning to feel that deep complexity in my body, and not run from the pain that surfaces.

I’ve been asking deep questions about my work.  About sustainability in a healing profession.  And I’m discovering that working with majority white students gives me a unique opportunity.  Together, we are developing a language and a conversation around limitations, which to me, seems more and more central to our liberation.

I’m learning how to provide a safe space for my students to come into contact with their own resistance with reading, with writing, with their learning difference.  Being a dyslexia and autism tutor is just a container for students to fail in a safe way, and together we build this stamina that failure does not define them, that it’s okay to take risks, that they don’t have to lean into their perfectionism.  That what makes my students so amazing is that they are learning to hold their weaknesses lightly.  They can mess up & laugh about it.

And as a recovering perfectionist, I learn from them every day!

In order for me to hold that space, I’ve needed to dig into my own healing, even deeper.  My work is lovely, and it can wear me out.

I’ve leaned into my qigong practice, my breathwork practice, my writing, finishing out EMDR with my therapist.  I’ve leaned into new friendships and old ones.  I fall away from my practices, and then need to come back to them.

As summer arrived suddenly in Indiana, I found myself reacting viscerally to all kinds of allergies.  I quickly felt very overcommitted and ungrounded.

Spring was a season of deep growth & transformation–and I entered into early summer enthusiastically, yet in doing a lot of outward work, and neglecting my spiritual practices.  I needed to return to my breath & to the earth, where Spirit is so present, if I would just pay attention and bring intention.

Spring brought about some deep “yeses.”  As I spent time at my computer working almost the whole day Saturday, I also was able to reflect on the year, as I sent next year’s calendar to my families.

My business survived the first year!  And I made money!

I joined the Episcopal church, 8 minutes from my apartment.  It’s environmentally friendly to my allergies.  The sanctuary is all tile!  There’s other reasons for joining, that I’ve already written about.  And I’ve joined the anti-racism team.  I will soon be trained to be a Lay Eucharistic Minister, serving communion to those who cannot leave their home.  As someone who has been confined to my bed, there’s no greater gift, than to find a reciprocal way to give back to those who have visited me.

I committed to finishing up my second year of spiritual direction training.  Who knows where this will lead, but I’m excited and the timing is right!

As I’ve said yes to my spiritual practice of qigong, my energy reserve just continues to build in my body, to the point where my food allergies are starting to disappear.  I’m no longer needing most of my medication.  I’m healing in deep ways every single day.  I had no idea this was possible, even though several people told me it was–I was just too skeptical to believe it at the time.

I helped to create a resource list for chronic fatigue advocacy in Indiana, and am learning to dive into conversations about the need for awareness and funding around chronic illness AND also ground inward and know that true healing is always inward, that no one doctor is the “savior.”  Validation is important, and healing from the trauma around not being believed even more important.

Spring has brought a deep yes, to be in contact with the Westfield police department about the over-policing I have witnessed working at the library, as students of color would walk over from the middle school and high school.

Spring has brought a school shooting 13 minutes from my home.  It’s meant texting my families who live in Noblesville, and checking in to make sure they are okay.  It’s been watching middle school students in a very conservative county protest the gun shop that opened that day after a school shooting in their hometown, and say, “Yes, this!”

Spring means walking to the tiny farmer’s market, and smiling.  It means talking to local business owners and sensing a spirit of camaraderie, not competition.  It means talking to the local bee farmer about honey & allergies, and how bees raise the vibration of the planet.  It means to committing to visit the bee farm, to draw closer to the Earth in my own vicinity.

As we draw near to the Summer Solstice, may there be abundance.  May their be joy and rootedness and hope.  May nature teach us about patience.  For everything there is a time.

 

Five Years of Friendship

Five years ago, I met this dear friend of mine.  It just so happened that she was in my interview group, when she was interviewing for the Memphis Teacher Residency.

She got in, and was assigned to spend her residency year at my school.  Then I quit my position right before school started, and she ended up teaching in my classroom (and she wasn’t very happy with me!)

We watched Big 10 basketball together while living in the South, while everyone else was concerned with Ole Miss & Alabama.

When I got very sick, and left Memphis for Indy, I didn’t really think that we would stay in touch.  But we did–and oh, our friendship has been both the best & the hardest thing.

We’ve traveled a lot of hard ground together–more than most friends do in a lifetime.  At times, I’ve been overwhelmed with the grief of it all.  At other times, I rest in my gratitude for a loyal and committed friend who knows me so well.  Of course it’s both/and.

Last night was simply a “Thanks for being my friend” kinda night. At. Ted’s Montana Grill.  Taking occasional glimpses at March Madness scores here and there.

Yet, 2018 is a big year for both us–for different reasons.  Yet, we both still get to be a witness to it all-the good and the bad, our back-and-forth illnesses, new jobs, graduations, baptisms, a book being written, new friendships being made, my confirmation into the Episcopal Church (more on this later!)

It’s been a privilege to be a witness to healing-both mine & Chelsea’s over the last several years.  We are both better, for having been committed friends.

 

Congratulations!

Last week, I had a follow-up appointment with my doctor.  I have these appointments 3-4 times per year to gauge my progress and continue to tweak my treatment plan to best serve me and my healing.

The nurse leads me into the room and asks me what my dominant symptoms are to tell the doctor, before he comes in to meet with me.  I smiled as I told her, “I don’t have any dominant symptoms.  I’m feeling really good.”

She smiled back at me, took her time to really look at me, and replied, “That’s so good to hear.”

The doctor and I talked about my most recent lab results, how I’ve responded the last several months to new medicines, new IV’s, and adding in new foods.  We talked about how this summer with the high humidity should be different than last year, and yet I told him that I feel like I can tell how much difference these medicines have made by the time summer hits.

The entire 1/2 hour conversation was mostly about how I’m feeling–not what my test results say.  And as we were talking, this calmness came over me.  I was having a collaborative conversation with my doctor, where we were talking about my “subjective” feelings and they were validated over a number on a lab.  We talked about how I can adjust some medicines based on how I feel, because I know how to honor and listen to my body.

As I was leaving the room to go wait for the doctor’s notes in the lobby, he said, “Congratulations!”

The images that flooded my mind as he said that were of the dozens, even hundreds of people who have been a part of this healing journey with me.  From friends & family, to healing professionals, to strangers–it truly does take a village.

And, I have worked really hard.  Sometimes I shy away from saying that because I’ve been conditioned to feel like that’s arrogant.  But it’s not.

And sometimes guilt sets in because I am a young privileged white woman with access to resources that many people cannot even fathom.

Yet, I’m learning to sit with those feelings and just observe them.  And still say, “I’m healing & I’m worth it.”  And I have persevered and persevered and persevered.  And I deserve to feel good.

Hearing “congratulations!” from my doctor at first felt a little out of place. But then I paused, took a deep breath, and let the impact of his words sink in.

When he first saw me, I was on the brink of quitting my job.  I had just been sexually assaulted by a doctor.  I was exhausted and barely making it.  He has seen me through unemployment and multiple moves and black mold exposure and starting my own business.

So “congratulations!” meant “You’re making it!” but not only that, “You’re beginning to thrive!”

And he’s right.  I’ve not only gone through a lot of external changes, but I’ve done a lot of inner work–and the combination of a lot of hard work over the last several years–is a greater level of health and wellness.

I’m grateful for how my inner and outer work has changed my life, for my people who have journeyed with me, for simple encouragements that stop me in my tracks, cause me to take a deep breath and smile.

 

Photo courtesy of Serge Estege on Unsplash

Winter 2018 Health Update & What’s Saving My Life Right Now

I haven’t shared a “formal” update of how I’ve been doing health-wise, so I thought I would update everyone.

The winter has been incredible for me.  There have been quite a number breakthroughs in my health in ways that I can’t entirely explain.  Winter has been a season of trying new things, diving into friendships, feeling more established in my business.  There has been both hard work & joy, challenging, yet simple decisions that needed to be made.

The season of winter has accelerated my healing in the last few years, and so I’ve learned to take intentional steps to slow down, and make sure that my body is responding appropriately to nature’s signals.  That meant that the Christmas season had a much slower pace, and I just said no to lots of things.  Joining Wayfinding’s conversations and practices around a simpler holiday season were life-giving and grounding for me.

I took a 4 week Christmas break because I could!  At the end of those 4 weeks, I attended the Mystic Soul Conference, where I was encouraged to breathe in community.  I was challenged and encouraged.

I’ve been meeting with an EMDR therapist since October, and our work together has been very fruitful.  She’s helped to guide me back to my body’s knowledge–that I hadn’t lost my voice, it was just buried under heaps of trauma.

I decided not to join a yoga studio, but instead to learn Qigong at the Indy Healing Center.  Qigong is an energy practice, and the movements, have not only helped me continue to connect with my own body, but my own energy, in a very deep way.  I’m excavating my own limiting beliefs through this practice and becoming more and more aware of how my mind has been affected by illness.  I’m learning about the organ systems, and what it means to be out of balance.  This practice has been a huge part of the transformational work I’m doing right now!

I’ve been breathing!  Deeply and in healing ways.  I start my morning with a breath work practice, reminding myself of my own powerful life force, and I transition from breathing into writing for 20 minutes before I start my day. I participated in several group breath work classes this winter as well.

I’m choosing to believe that my narrative is so much more important than my health stats & numbers.  My latest food allergy test revealed that I have healed a lot of my food allergies, although my candida still remains stubborn.  I’m starting to wonder/believe/hope that I can heal my candida through energy work, rather than loads of supplements & medicines.

My qigong teacher stated as a side comment in class, “Thyroid issues start to show up when a person is no longer able to express their purpose.” That statement was meant for me.  For I’m discovering that the more I speak my truth in public (not just in my journal!), the healthier I feel.  After years of processing and grief (and generally being stuck and too much in my head), I finally connected to the Energy needed to forgive.  And I will need this to keep on forgiving, myself included.

I’m working a full-time job, and I’m doing well.  I’m learning how to conserve my energy, how to guide my students daily, and yet how to regain that energy that I gave while teaching for several hours per day.   It’s amazing.  I had no idea if full-time was even possible or what it would look like–but it’s here and it’s good.  My smile is coming back.

I found my way to a new church, St. Christopher’s Episcopal.  There is this energetic draw to the Christian church that I’m trying to find words for.  And I’m a millennial, quite aware of the issues at hand, and that more and more people are leaving the church in droves.  I think I’m asking “Why am I here?” while I keep on attending.  More questions than answers, and that’s quite alright.

What is saving my life right now?

  • My own breath
  • Forgiveness
  • Writing on the question “Who am I & how do I know?”
  • Telling the truth
  • Becoming reacquainted with my strength
  • Gluten-free BBQ chicken pizza from Jan’s Village Pizza (Westfield shout-out!)
  • Laughter about trying to make Paleo frosting that tasted great but looked awful!
  • Playing a well-loved hand-made game of go-fish dyslexia-style, with several of my students.
  • Friday night pizza ritual coming back–can you tell I’ve been missing pizza?!
  • Falling asleep watching the Olympics
  • Brunch, and coffee, and dinner with friends.
  • A London fog at Noble Coffee & Tea, to make lesson planning more bearable.
  • Qigong, particularly the “Dragon Stands Between Heaven & Earth”
  • Impact statements from the Larry Nassar case-such bravery & honesty in the quest of healing.
  • An introduction into ancestral healing at the Mystic Soul Conference

Diagnosis Day!

On Saturday, I celebrated my diagnosis day.  3 years of having lived with the diagnosis of Hashimoto’s.  It’s been a crazy journey these three years, often very difficult and isolating.  In the midst of the pain and seeming unfairness of it all, there have been some beautiful moments: being attuned and witnessing my own healing journey, the friendships that have formed, starting my own business, and learning to sit with difficult emotions more fully.

I’ve discovered a love of cooking and I’ve honed my writing skills. I’ve found yoga and meditation, contemplative Christianity, and my own inner drive to persevere.  I’m learning to lean into my intuition, my emotions, and my spirituality.  I’m writing a book about the gifts that have been gained from my illness.  I’m gaining life and wisdom from stories, both in digging more deeply into my own and in listening to others.

I posted a few weeks ago about Sick Woman Theory.  After I read it, I wrote a poem, dedicated to Johanna Hevda, the originator of Sick Woman Theory.  This is for all those who are sick, and who feel like they have to fight to be seen and who have been dismissed way too many times.

To All Those Who Shouldn’t Have Made It, But Did, And Do

for Johanna Hevda

You’re here.  You’ve gotten out of bed in some miraculous way.  

 

You showed up.  Maybe that took all your spoons.

 

I’m honored that you chose to spend your limited energy here, with me.

 

But I realize that you didn’t have to; and that would not be wrong.  

 

Funny how we define right and wrong, isn’t it?

 

Funny how we place blame on the sick bodies, those lazy people lying in bed

 

And yet, we are too afraid of their power when in public?

 

 

In our society, sick bodies are queer; and in fact, many queer people are sick.

 

We feel the deviance in being a mystic; so many of the contemplative texts come from sick bodies.  

 

So white contemplatives:  next time we quote from Hildegard of Bingen or Catherine of Sienna or Joan of Arc or Theresa of Avila or Julian of Norwich: remember their female sick bodies.  

 

Do not steal from them their insights, while ignoring their bodies.  

 

Back then they were mystics; now we shut people up in psych wards, give them medicine to numb them, and cut them off from community.  Maybe we should be listening.

 

We are cut off from community, even as we long to find each other.  And find each other we will.  We must.  

 

Blessed are you when you get out of bed, but people feel you should stay in bed to prove you are sick.  

 

Blessed are you when you stay in bed, because you know what rest means more than anyone around you.

 

Blessed are you when you speak up in order to be visible, but people prefer your invisibility.

 

Blessed are you when you are silent, connecting with the Divine, but people prefer to call you crazy.

 

Blessed are you when you go to the doctor, but the doctor calls you hysterical.  

 

Blessed are you when you are your own best doctor, because this white hetero-normative patriarchal medical institution really isn’t for you.

 

Blessed are you when you smile at the cashier, the first person you’ve made eye contact with all day.  

 

Blessed are you when someone looks away from you, because you just parked in a handicapped spot, but don’t look handicapped.

 

Blessed are you when you take time to breathe, for sometimes the earth is your best friend.

 

Blessed are you when you take time to scream, for your rage is justified.

 

Blessed are you, lying in bed all day, still hoping, still yearning for community.  

Blessed are you, seen though invisible, beautiful, though sick, hopeful in your agony.

To Breathe More Deeply

There’s so much I could say about Mystic Soul, and yet I’m not ready to.

Above all, it was an experience.  A very different experience of spirituality and justice and healing, than I’d ever experienced before–and it was so good.

Maybe all I can do for now is talk about the shifts, speak to how my friends of color across the country are trying to decolonize Christianity.  There was a tangible feeling of healing in the body, for everyone involved.  We all breathed much more deeply together.

We faced each other in a circle, rather than sitting in rows.

We never sat for a full-hour lecture.  We talked to each other, engaged in spiritual practice together, got out of our seats and talked to people we didn’t know.

We told personal stories, rather than just quote highly-acclaimed authors.

We participated in healing silence and ritual in community.

We valued rhythm over time, not prioritizing order & efficiency over healing.

We engaged the reality that sometimes contemplation is quiet & sometimes it is loud.

We returned to the effects of trauma and how we all need to be in touch with our personal narratives in order to heal.

At times, the room of 400 people was silent and we all just breathed deeply together.

I don’t think any of these realities fit into the questions, “How was it?” or “How were you impacted?” or “What are you going to do now?”

I experienced wholeness in community.

I knew I was in a room filled with the leaders of contemplative spirituality for today & tomorrow.  And I want to listen and keep listening.

 

 

On Cutting Back and Simplifying

Last Wednesday I started a cleanse.  Most people set a New Year’s resolution to change their diet, but my birthday is in January and so I never do that.  February is a good month for me, and this year I waited until after Valentine’s Day!

Some people ask me, “Why do you do this when you cut so many foods out anyway?”

And my answer is, “I want my body to function as optimally as possible.”

Because I have a chronic illness, this takes a lot of work.  Throughout the year, I reintroduce new foods to see if my body can handle it.  Then some coconut milk ice cream, tortilla chips and popcorn slip in.  To many people these little changes are no big deal.  And yet for me, it’s helpful when these foods are purged for a complete month out of the year, for my body to reset.

Version 2

It’s helpful to eat very simply again: meats, vegetables, soups, healthy fats and minimal fruit.  No baking. Eating out less often.  Declining some people’s invitations.

I used to think these decisions felt like “missing out.”  Now my body’s wisdom just tells me that simplifying is what it really wants.  And the benefits of the cleanse can be felt within a few days: less brain fog, deeper, more restful sleep, greater concentration, and more energy.  And if I’m honest, these are the gifts I truly long for.

It’s scary to cut back at first.  I know that the first step is facing into how tired I actually am, even with all the improvements in my health.  There’s still fatigue there, and some days it’s still a lonely reality.  Yet healing does start with observing, noticing, and lingering with reality, in whatever form it chooses to be.

So for the next four weeks, I’m intentionally making room.  Making room to focus on myself, to be present in my fatigue, to celebrate healing and to say no.  I’m choosing to be more still, to move more slowly, to sink into yoga more deeply.

I thought that when I started this healing journey, that healing meant back to doing more.  It’s actually come to mean, making space for doing less.  Simplifying actually brings greater layers of wholeness into my life.

The Art of Receiving

As I wrote about on Monday, today is my Diagnosis Day.  I’m not really sentimental about this actual day, and yet this year, I wanted to set it aside, and celebrate.  This year, today deserves some attention.

Two years ago, I was so desperate to know what was wrong, and how I could help myself.  These longings were the beginning of self-compassion.  I knew that I would need to receive my illness, to work with my body, and learn how to live well, while being sick.

I knew my lifestyle was about to change, although I didn’t exactly know how.  It meant continuing to slow down, to see the miracle of my body’s healing capacity–when I had lost faith in my body altogether.  It seemed like my enemy and daily it worked against my wellbeing.  Little did I know, the pain, the fatigue, the inflammation, the brain fog, were all warning signs that my body was out of balance.  My body was fighting so hard to keep me alive.

And in this fight to stay alive, I’m learning to receive, rather than strive.  To give out of abundance, rather than emptiness.  To embrace my limitations, rather than run from them.  To be hopeful, that even greater things are down the road.

And so I pass along these lessons.  May you receive them, as I have learned to receive them, even if its with reluctance and cynicism (which was often the case with me!)

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I’ve learned to receive the nutrients my body needs.  I spend much more time cooking and savoring good food.

I’ve learned to receive the invitation to rest.  I don’t nap much anymore (I don’t need to!), but I do structure my time in a way that allows for self-care, whether in reading, watching a movie, talking a walk, going to yoga, spending time with a friend, playing with the dog.  I’m learning that rushing through life does violence to myself and others.

I’ve learned that my mind only registers thoughts from my heart and my body.  I’ve learned to receive the messages my body sends me, and place those messages as a higher priority than my thoughts.  I’m learning to strengthen the mind-body connection through centering prayer, meditation, and yoga.

I’ve learned that I don’t really miss out on much if I go to bed early.  While this lesson continues to be a difficult one, adequate sleep continues to be a key element in my healing process.  While I live counter-culturally in many ways, I’m learning that when I can be present in a social setting, I have much more to give in attention and presence, if I first take care of myself.

I’ve learned to receive the art of balance, both at work and home.  I know that working 40 hours per week will be too much for me.  And so I work 26-28 hours per week, in a job that I continue to grow to love.  I teach students how to thrive despite their own limitations.  On weekends, I need plenty of downtime to rest, enjoy time to be creative, and prepare for the week ahead.

I’ve learned to receive help and kindness.  It’s difficult to believe in abundance, in the worst seasons of an isolating chronic illness.  And yet, there were people right around me who helped with meals, moves, cleaning, doctor appointments, living situations.  Some people just listened.  Some have taken the risk of learning from me, especially at my worst moments, which gave me a sense of dignity, enough to keep fighting to heal.  Some have offered hospitality, and just said, “I’m here” and let me take them up on their offer when I was ready.

I’ve learned to receive my intuition and listen to it carefully.  I’m grateful for the healthcare team I have in place, and yet I typically know what’s best.  I’m learning not to doubt myself.

I’ve learned to receive my own strength.  My drive to live, to heal, and to thrive continues to grow. It’s one of my more beautiful traits.  And on those hard days, it’s perfectly okay for my mantra to be, “You’re a bad ass!”

I’ve learned to receive my illness as a gift.  I don’t say this lightly because I think suffering is horrific, both my own and others.  Yet, through illness my life has been completely deconstructed.  This has been a scary and unnerving experience, and yet I have gotten to start over.  I get the chance to receive who I truly am, rather what I was trying to make myself into.  Striving led to complete exhaustion, while rest and centeredness leads to contentment and peace.  I’m on a much better trajectory.

 

May you and I receive the love hidden in our own stories and right before our eyes.