Recently, a friend emailed and playfully chastised me for not updating my blog lately. “How am I supposed to know what you are up to?” she kiddingly asked. I laughed and we scheduled a coffee (aka soy milk) date, but it all struck me as odd. The blog posts have always flowed naturally — both when to write and the content to discuss, so it has never been something I have really “scheduled” in the past. I have learned through this journey that writing, for me, is cathartic. It is a way for me to sort out my emotions and plans, as well as a means of connection and communication with my family and friends. So the fact that I hadn’t been writing, and hadn’t even noticed, was a little odd.
It dawned on me later that I had been subconsciously avoiding this blog. I had been shying away because I didn’t have anything positive or exciting to share, and that made me feel like a fraud. When I started this blog, I committed to sharing my journey. All of my journey. Which means it would be hypocritical if I didn’t share my struggles along with my triumphs. You see, 99% of the time I am able to approach life in a positive and confident manner, knowing that I can take a deep breath and handle whatever comes my way. I laugh and I joke and I take comfort just knowing that this is how I cope. It’s who I am and who I’ve always been. I find being miserable…well…miserable and I want nothing to do with it.
But that doesn’t mean that there aren’t any exceptions. It doesn’t mean that I can forge ahead of every struggle without a little time in the 1%. Even as I’m writing this, I’m battling with the feeling of being ashamed of this moment, so this blog post tonight is also my attempt to overcome that feeling and let myself be human.
Truth be told, I’m tired.
Like I stand at the bottom of the stairs and question whether or not I have the strength to walk up kind of tired.
I’m tired of being tired.
This entire journey has been about slooooow progress. And while I recognize that adopting my inner sloth is what my body needs, it isn’t always easy to accept, especially the constant back and forth. Ya know, the dance where I take 8 (ridiculously slow) steps forward, followed by 7 (terrifyingly speedy) steps back. I know too much about my body to ever erase all of my progress and go back to the complete beginning, but sometimes it seems pretty darn close.
Before I left for Mayo in December, I was, all things considered, as healthy as I had been in nearly two years. I was eating more, doing more and feeling like things were really moving forward. Then I traveled, for medical excursions and holiday celebrations, for 6 weeks. From Virginia to Minnesota to Massachusetts to Pennsylvania to Virginia to Pennsylvania to Minnesota to Pennsylvania to Virginia to Pennsylvania to Virginia.
So it was no shock to me when I finally got home and collapsed in a heap. I slept for an insanely long time. Over and over again. I rested and juiced and took my plant-based vitamins and did everything I could to let my body heal. I had absolutely no interest in doing anything at all…which for a rather gregarious person, is usually the tell-tale sign that I need to rest. So I did.
But now I’m ready to be recovered. And I’m not. In fact, I think I may be the only person in America who dropped five pounds over the holidays and can’t get it back on.
It’s not like I haven’t been here before. I have. Many times. I know the signs — I lose weight, my hair falls out, my nails break, my muscles weaken, I’m exhausted, I feel full after 2 bites of anything, yadda yadda yadda.
I know the signs of a major relapse.
But it doesn’t make it any easier to accept.
I know I’ll be ok. I’ll continue to do everything in my power to get my body healthy. I’ll juice and I’ll exercise and I’ll rest and sloooowwly, I will regain the progress that was lost.
I know that someday soon I’ll go bounding up the stairs again.
But for now, for right this moment, I’m just going to be tired. And that’s ok.