Low batt.

In 2003, Christine Miserandino explained chronic illness to a friend in terms that are now widely referred to as The Spoon Theory, see it here.  Since that time, people like me, who have chronic illness, have been thankful to have a way to convey tangibly what it feels like to be totally depleted, or “out of spoons”.

We were away this past weekend at a basketball tournament in Chicago, and, having used all of my spoons, I shared the analogy with my husband.  I told the story, as best I could remember it, and he said, “Hm. I like the analogy.  I get how spoons can carry, or hold, energy.”  Yesterday I was talking with my daughter after almost two days of trying to replenish my store of spoons.  She was trying to understand how a whirlwind trip to Chicago took me out of commission for most of two days.  My husband prompted me to share the spoon theory with her.  I did.  She said, “so can you store up spoons in advance?” I replied, “No.  You can loan some out from the future, but you’ve got to pay them back.  That’s what I’m doing now.”

So, if you got this far  without clicking on the link above, you are probably scratching your head and trying to decide whether or not you are going to continue reading this cryptic post or if you are just going to close the window.  If you clicked and saw the page-long “spoon theory” you might have said, “Well, I’m not gonna read all that and this blog post.” I know.  That’s why in the past three or four years I have only shared the spoon theory a half a dozen times.  It’s an effective analogy, yes.  But it takes some explaining.

So, I was going through my motions this morning thinking to myself, “is there a more accessible way to convey how I am feeling?” I mean, people with chronic invisible illness find themselves in this position rather often.  People look at us and think, “She looks alright to me!” They don’t understand when we “can’t” stay to watch the second round of games in the tournament because we have to go sleep.  They don’t understand why we make plans always “tentatively” because we might feel like crap on that day. They wonder why we didn’t make it to Bible study in the morning, but we were able to teach a class in the afternoon.

Maybe we could think of it in terms of limited battery life. We all carry devices around with us wherever we go, don’t we?  They all rely on batteries.  To make sure that our devices are functional all day long, we plug them in every night at our bedside.  Some of us have chargers in our cars.  In many public places — airports, malls, libraries –we can now find charging stations.  We push our devices to their limits.  They get depleted; we have to plug them back in or they will be rendered useless.

Most people have internal “batteries” that can keep them running for twelve to fourteen hours with a minimal recharge sometime during the day.  They might be up and out the door before seven, sipping a cuppa joe on the way to work.  They might need a brief pause around 10 o’clock and some kind of a lunch break, but then they are good to go for the rest of the day.  They might even have enough battery life left to get dinner with friends or attend a play or a concert in the evening. In fact, they can keep up this pace day after day and even get away on the weekend occasionally without fully depleting their battery life.

Not me.  Not any of us with chronic illness.  Our batteries have been rendered less effective.  I might have up to eight hours of battery life per day.  If I start off at 7 am and don’t take a break, I will almost certainly be done and in my pajamas at 3 pm.  So, I don’t usually function that way.  I use 20% of my battery, then I sit down and try to ‘re-charge’.  I may get 5-10% back if I sit down, put my feet up, have a cup of tea, or close my eyes.  In that way, I s-t-r-e-t-c-h eight hours of battery life into twelve to fourteen hours of wakefulness, if not usefulness.

Occasionally, I throw all caution to the wind and decide that I am going to take a chance, push my battery to the limits, attend a basketball tournament out of state, and suffer the consequences.  That’s what I did this last weekend.  I had already had a pretty busy week — I had tutored twelve hours, taught the first two classes of the semester, arranged for doggy care, done laundry, tidied the house, purchased new jeans, and packed — before we woke at 5:30am to prepare for a journey to Chicago that would begin at 7am.  We arrived in Chicago around 11am CST, found the gym, got some lunch, then watched two basketball games.  Of course we “sat” at the top of the student section, so, because they stood for the whole two games, we stood for the whole two games.  All of this was a physical drain on my batteries.  And then there was the emotional drain.  All emotion drains battery life — positive and negative.  While at this tournament, I saw many former students and some former colleagues.  There was so much hugging and smiling!  I loved it, but it drained me.  By the time we headed back to the hotel at 5pm, I was done.  I put on my pajamas, crawled in bed, and began to read student papers.  (Yes, I realize that I said I was done and then I continued to do more — I’m telling you, I threw caution to the wind!) My husband and the others went out to get food.  When he got back, I had barely enough energy to chew.  I ate my dinner, then fell asleep before one episode of “Modern Family” could play out.

Then I slept for TWELVE HOURS.

We got up at 8:30am, grabbed a quick breakfast and headed back to the gym for more reunions, more hugging, more standing, more yelling, and more cheering — four games worth!  Then, at 9:30pm, we started the trek home. Since my husband was driving the van following two charter busses full of students, I wanted to stay awake to keep him awake and alert.  So, we drank caffeine at 10pm and chugged along.  It was like I had purchased an external battery pack. I was wide awake on purpose.  We blared music and sang.  We talked and laughed.  Finally, at 2:15am, we arrived home.  Of course I couldn’t go straight to sleep. I had to run out that external battery, which was, of course, disposable, not renewable.

I found that out halfway through my sleep, if you can call it that.  Having depleted all of my own battery, and the external battery, my body didn’t even have enough energy to sleep.  It started to scream from the inside out — a burning sensation filled my gut, my joints ached.  No position was comfortable.  I thought I would have to run to the bathroom to be sick.

Have you ever run your phone battery down so low that the phone actually shuts off? When you first plug it in, you get that image of a battery with a thin red line showing the depravity of life you have allowed your phone to deplete to? Guys, I had a screaming red line.

For all of Sunday I whimpered, whined, and convalesced while my husband, dear man that he is, carried my charge cord around and kept plugging it in — he brought me scrambled eggs and toast, which I at first couldn’t even eat; he ran me an epsom salt bath, which I gladly soaked in for an hour; he brought me tea, and water, and ice; he watched a movie with me; he endured an emotional meltdown; he encouraged me to go to bed at 7:30pm.

Then I slept for TWELVE HOURS. AGAIN.

It’s now Tuesday morning, and I’m pretty sure my battery is at about 70%.  I’m gonna go amble off to the gym, hobble onto the treadmill for a few minutes, then sit in the jacuzzi.  After that ‘workout’, I will meet with three students and prepare for tomorrow’s class.  I hope I still have 15-20% left at 7:30pm so that I can sit in on a board meeting conference call.

But if not, I’ll just have to crawl into bed and sleep some more.  That’s the price of throwing caution to the wind when you have limited battery life.

Isaiah 40:29

He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.

Just add this to the pot

So, do you know what simmering does?  It cooks slowly and gently so as not to damage.

Yesterday, a lot of ingredients were tossed into my brain.  I was thinking about pain and illness.  I was wondering about healing. I encountered the idea of spiritual warfare.  I read about pride, identity,  and temptation.  All of these ingredients were sitting there in my brain, and I didn’t know what to do with them.

Often, the recipe is clear — knead, bake, slice, serve. But yesterday, I had no idea what I was ‘making’.  Probably because I wasn’t intended to ‘make’ anything at all.  I felt the nudge to put the pot on simmer and walk away.

Sometimes I do this in our house.  I have a lovely crock pot that I fill with a pale chunk of pork or chicken, a couple tablespoons of slimy olive oil, some sea salt and other dry pungent spices.  I turn the dial to ‘simmer’, and I walk away.  It’s lazy cooking, yes, but’s it’s pretty effective.  Those ingredients, which look less than appetizing at the start, start to simmer, and as they do, they give off a pleasing aroma that fills my house and greets my husband when he walks into the house after a long day.

So, yesterday, as I was taking in some thoughts that were less than pleasing — pain, illness, temptation, spiritual warfare, pride, sin — instead of tossing them all into the trash, I decided to allow them to simmer for a while.  I mean, it couldn’t hurt.

While they were simmering, I went to the gym and walked on the treadmill for a half an hour or so.  Then, I submersed myself in the warm bubbling waters of the jacuzzi.  I showered, dressed, then drove to meet with two students in a neighboring town.

I drove home, ate some dinner, watched some television, crocheted, read, and went to bed.  And the ideas were still simmering.  I didn’t open the pot to stir.  I didn’t turn the heat up or down.  I just let them cook slowly and gently.

This morning, the battalion met to continue in our study of Hosea. I think I was hoping that I would be able to open the crock pot and see that all the ingredients were ‘done’ simmering.  That didn’t happen.

Instead, as they continued to simmer, I observed this sisterhood that I have been plunked down into.  I watched as they cared for one another — observing a swollen toe, praying for an ailing husband, applauding successful surgeries, and joining in to sing together.

Today’s topic was the idea that we often wander from God because we don’t truly know Him — really know His character and appreciate His love for us.  We acknowledged together that we are “prone to leave the God we love,” and learned together that this is because we know of God, but we don’t fully know Him.

Yet, in spite of our wandering ways, God continuously pursues us.  He puts obstacles in our self-destructive paths so that we will turn around and wander back toward Him.  Sometimes when we are redirected in this way, we get close enough to see His face beaming with love for usHis beloved.  And if we can get our eyes off the distracting shiny objects long enough, we can look into His eyes and see ourselves reflected there.  And that, my friends, is when we get a glimpse at our identity.  Not our estimation of ourselves in relationship to our peers, but our true identity as children loved by God.

I think I’ll let that simmer a little longer.

“I have loved you with an everlasting love;

therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you.”

Jeremiah 31: 3

Let it simmer

So today is a ‘let it simmer’ kind of day.  You know what I mean?

I rolled out of bed rather reluctantly, muttering under my breath something about, “I am so sick and tired of being sick and tired…” I made my smoothie and my tea.  I got in the car and drove to the physical therapist.  When she asked me how I was doing, I admitted that I was feeling frustrated, defeated, and maybe even hopeless.

In her gentle physical therapy whisperer way, she put her hands on me, played an audio recording that spoke directly to my need, and spoke directly to my body, soul, and spirit.

Her words, and the words on the recording, reminded me that I had just celebrated in this blog yesterday the fact that I have been blessed by this illness. Blessed to pause.  Blessed to process.  And, as I see in the first paragraph I wrote above, I have been blessed with a home,  a rather comfortable bed,  tea,  the luxury of a smoothie every morning,  a vehicle, and the privilege of going to physical therapy once a week.

And not just any physical therapy — a physical therapy session wherein my therapist speaks Biblical words of truth into my life.

And it’s not oppressive. Or preachy.  Or false.  It is true.

How do I know it’s true?  Because as I am lying on the table, feeling her hands on my head, hearing her utter simple words of truth, I feel tears — soft, quiet, tears — dripping down my face.

She’s known me for two months, yet God’s spirit inhabiting her could see the need in my spirit and speak directly to me.  I don’t even remember what she said to tell you the truth.  All I know is that in those moments on that table I was reminded that He loves me, He pursues me, and He will heal me.

Yeah, I’m just gonna let that simmer for a bit today.

Psalm 107:43

Let the one who is wise heed these things
    and ponder the loving deeds of the Lord.

Divine Intervention

After a weekend away, I started my morning slowly — putting some things away, thinking through the tasks of today, and generally shuffling around avoiding my Bible study time.  Why was I avoiding it?  No particular reason.  Just out of the flow.

You may have noticed that I haven’t posted in several days again.  A few things got in my way — an appointment here, a symptom flare-up there, a weekend trip to see the in-laws. And I find that when I get out of the routine, it is a little difficult for me to jump back in.  It’s like merging into traffic.  I’ve got to find an opening and just move in.

So, finally I did.  As I mentioned last week, I am studying the book of Hosea with my Bible study battalion.  The book is all about God choosing us, even though we are bent on pursuing other ‘gods’.  He didn’t choose us once, but He chooses us continuously.  It’s not over and over again, but perpetual choosing.  Even though we are perpetually wandering, perpetually looking around at all the shiny objects, perpetually taking our focus off of Him.

He is The. Faithful. Love. of our lives.  Period.

So, small example — He loves me and is faithful to me even though I was inconsistent in my Bible study and daydreamed during church yesterday.  (I’m telling you, this pastor’s wife is far less than ideal.) He’s so faithful that today when I picked up my Bible study, He had the page turned to a huge example.

(I know I’ve written before about how, in some ways, I am thankful for the health issues that I have.  Although I am often uncomfortable, fatigued, and frustrated with running from one doctor to the next, I have been granted an opportunity to slow down, reflect, and enter this new chapter.  In fact, I’ve been slowed down so much that I can do nothing else but sit in amazement at His provision during this time.)

The Big Example — the very first words on my devotion today, I kid you not:

Therefore, this is what I will do:

I will block her way with thorns;

I will enclose her with a wall,

So that she cannot find her paths. Hosea 2:6

Now of course, this passage is talking about Gomer, the unfaithful wife who wandered off to other men.  It is also about Israel, who wandered off to worship other gods.  However, it is also about me.  That’s how the Bible works.  It is, as it says, “living and active, sharper than any double-edged sword.”  And those words this morning cut through my foggy stupor to say, “Hello, Kristin, are you ready to sit down and hear this story about how I loved you enough to block your way with thorns so that you couldn’t continue to follow your butt-kicking, name-taking paths? Are you ready to hear again how much I love you and that I am able to keep you in this pattern of life so that you will make time to fit me into your routine?”

I mean, yes. Yes, I am ready. If I didn’t get caught by that scripture, I would’ve gotten caught by the first question that the author posed,

Can you think of any ‘thorns’ that God may have put in your path to slow you down and make you think twice about something you were doing? 

Maybe some people can get slowed down by hearing a song on the radio, listening to a sermon, or having a good talk with a friend over coffee.  Me?  I need industrial strength slowing down.  I wasn’t about to turn around of my own volition.  I had to be stopped dead in my path by the thorns of chronic illness.  I had to be relocated to a different home, state, and lifestyle.  I needed a re-boot.  Or should I say a re-built hard drive.  I needed a next chapter. 

And because He loved me, He gave it to me. And just like Gomer, even though I have been pursued and claimed, even though I have been given a new identity, I still sometimes try to go back to my old soldiering ways.  I mean, I’m still human.  And He knows that.  So, he perpetually pursues me and reminds me that He has called me by name and that I am His.

Jeremiah 31:3

I have loved you with an everlasting love;
    I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.

Yes, yes you have.

Struggling Still

So, I’ve been sitting here with my laptop open for quite a while now.  I’ve finished my Bible study.  I’ve responded to several student emails.  I’ve looked at and managed my calendar for the week. But I’m not feeling inspired to write anything.

I have this problem.  I want to be authentic — to not sound cheesy, or preachy, or packaged in any way.  I want what comes out of my fingers to be a genuine reflection of where I’m at.  And, to be honest, ‘where I’m at’ is in my pajamas, sitting on a futon in my office, covered in warmed flaxseed pillows with my dog squished up next to me.  It’s a pretty good life, actually, but it’s not much to write about.

Yet, I’ve committed to writing more.  So, I’m going to write.  And then, for the most part, I’m going to spend my day being still.

I still struggle with this — with stillness, that is.  In my former life, I didn’t have very many times of stillness.  Days, weeks, months, and years, were full of activity — of doing, going, achieving, completing, accomplishing.  So, sitting here halfway through a Monday morning , still dressed in the same clothes I slept in with no intention of changing anytime soon, still seems odd.

I’m telling you, my Missouri friends would not recognize me.  I had a colleague who used to say, “I wish I understood how you get so much done.”  Me, too, friend, me, too.  I’ve said before on this blog how by this time of day in my former life I would’ve showered, put dinner in the crock pot, transported three or four kids to their various schools, tidied my classroom, reviewed my lesson plans, met with a family and their child to craft an educational contract, set up an appointment to observe a teacher, tracked down two delinquent students in the hallway, taught one section of composition, attended chapel, and managed any number of other administrative tasks.

Today? I’ve played my turn in about ten games of Words with Friends, started a load of laundry, finished last night’s dishes, drank some tea and a smoothie, heated some flaxseed pillows, sat down next to my dog, completed my Bible study, and sent some emails.

The rest of my day includes some lesson planning for the upcoming semester and editing a short paper for a student. Period. Ok, fine, I will try to do some Pilates. But seriously, I’m not doing anything else.  I’m not leaving the house.  At all.

And why am I struggling with this?  This is the new reality that was Hand-crafted for me.  This is the Next Chapter I’ve been blessed with.  It’s not boring. It’s not unsatisfying.  In fact, it is exactly what the Doctor ordered to put me back on the path to health.

Yet the do-er in my still sometimes feels like I should be accomplishing something, checking more off my list, making a difference, proving my worth. There it is. Something in me (and in you?) tells me that I don’t have worth unless I have accomplished something in my day. My value is in direct proportion to all the things I have managed to complete.  But ladies and gentlemen, that is a lie.  It’s a lie that I chose to believe for a long time.  And I believed it really well.  So well that I denied myself the opportunity to be still and recover from all the doing.  So, really, (wink, wink) I’m making up for lost time.

Do yourself a favor today.  Remind yourself that your worth is not based on what you do.  It is based on Whose you are. You have been purchased at a great price.  Your value is unfathomable.  Sit down for a minute and fathom that.  Drink it in for a moment while you are being still.

I Corinthians 6:19-20

 Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; 20 you were bought at a price.Therefore honor God with your bodies.

Confessions of a Job Searcher

Since we are talking threads, I should probably address my obsession with working.  Many times in this blog I have discussed my thoughts on working and searching for jobs.  I love to work.  When I’m not working, I like to search for jobs. Ok, I’ll admit it — even when I am working I like to search for jobs.

This is nothing new.  Before the internet, even when I was not in the market for a job, I would comb the classifieds every Sunday,  just to see what was out there.  Once the Internet showed up, I took up job hunting as a hobby.  It’s weird; I know.

Yes, I hunted for jobs even when I was fully and happily employed prior to my diagnosis.  Yes, I continued my search even when I was sick and working full-time.  I mean, you never know what’s out there, right?  I’ve mentioned on this page how hard it was for me the first few months of this next chapter not to apply for jobs while I was ‘being still’.

You may be under the impression, if you are a regular reader, that since I have found my niche through Wyzant tutoring and my adjunct teaching that I have ceased searching and that I am done applying to jobs. Ha-ha. No.  I’m still at it.  In fact, Wyzant was made for me — each day new ‘jobs’ are posted, and I can choose to apply to these jobs or not.  For instance, this morning I have ‘applied’ to work with three or four different students already.  One 10th grader in a nearby town needs an English tutor; I replied to the post, sharing my interest, availability, and qualifications so that the parent knows that I’m out here, willing to help.  A young professional whose first language is not English has posted that she would like online speaking practice; ok, I’ll give that a shot. Why not?

Additionally, I routinely check Indeed, an online job search site, for positions in my area.  And, yes, ok, I’ll admit it — I still check Craigslist job postings, too.  Why?  I have plenty of work!  Well, you never know what’s out there, unless you look!

I guess it’s a hobby? Or maybe it’s an indicator.  Maybe it’s some sign that I’m not yet settled.  I don’t know.  Analyze it if you want.  Meanwhile, I’ll be over here filling out an application to be a freelance editor or completing the requirements to renew my Michigan Teacher Certification. I mean, you never know, maybe I’ll head back to the classroom.

Nevermind that it’s  10:45 am and I’m still on the couch in my pajamas.  A girl can dream, can’t she?

Psalm 90:17

Let the favor of the Lord be upon us,

and establish the work of our hands.

Being Held

I’ve been putting a lot of things together over the past couple of weeks — connecting a lot of dots — writing things down in indelible marker — trying to nail these lessons home.  But, even as I type this, I know that these are lessons I am going to have to learn over and over again.

I’ve written so many sentences, paragraphs, and blog posts about my soldiering — how I’ve marched through battles, brandishing weapons, kicking butts and taking names.  I’ve confessed that my years in the battlefield of my own making have wreaked havoc on my body.  I’ve vowed to put down my weapons and rest in the palm of the hand of God.  Yet, I gaze longingly at my fatigues that are propped up over in the corner.  I long to get back in the game, to live the life of my former self.

I mean, wasn’t it great? The camaraderie with the troops — working side-by-side to tackle issues like failing students, families in crisis, and new programs for success? The daily soldiering — lesson planning, writing exams, reading essays, and teaching grammar? The little skirmishes — with students, with parents, with colleagues? The victory parades — parent/teacher conferences, faculty parties, graduation?

Yes, it was great.

So what went wrong?  Why couldn’t I hang in there like some who have been marching for forty years or more? Why did I have to take my honorable discharge so early?

Perhaps because there is work for me in the reserves? Could I be as effective as a reservist as I was while on active duty?  Could I use the same skill set? Could I meet with a different population this way?

I mean, let’s be honest, I’m certainly not ready to retire. I have ideas, opinions, and strategies formulating in my mind all day long. Yet, it’s obvious that I can no longer sustain active duty.  A few hours of interaction with students and I am ready to put my feet up.  Sometimes I sit down at 3:00pm and don’t get up again for the rest of the evening.

Last Thursday as I lie on the bed at the physical therapy office, I heard the therapist say, “Your body is kind of twisted in on itself, as though you were holding yourself together so that you could move forward.”  I was silent as I thought about that for a moment. Actually, I keep thinking about that one sentence.

Perhaps the reason I couldn’t sustain forty years of teaching is because I exhausted myself in just ten years by simultaneously attempting to hold myself together while kicking butts and taking names. And don’t I feel foolish for attempting to do what has already been done? I could never hold myself together anyway. Nor did I have to.  I am, after all, being held together in the palm of His hand.

Silly me.  Let me get out that Sharpie.

Colossians 1:16-17

all things have been created through him and for him.17 He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.

Integrative Medicine

About a year ago I saw a doctor who practices integrative medicine for the first time.  Although I had experienced some progress through acupuncture, massage, and nutritional counseling while we were still living in St. Louis, I didn’t really know what integrative medicine was.  However, after almost three years of symptoms — fatigue, joint pain, psoriasis, and multiple issues with my eyes — and little help from traditional medical practice, I figured I had nothing to lose.

When I arrived at the office on the west side of Ann Arbor, I found it to be understated; it didn’t have all the glitz and glamour of the powerful University of Michigan.  It was a small suite of rooms in a strip mall.  The receptionist called my name, weighed me, took my temperature, found my blood pressure, and asked me to fill out some forms. Some of the forms looked familiar — family history, insurance information, etc. — but mixed in with those were others that were asking me questions no doctor had ever asked me before — questions about diet, mood, temperament, lifestyle, and sleep that went beyond the quantitative I had experienced in the past.

The doctor, an unassuming middle-aged woman, talked to me for over an hour.  She took notes, asked questions, examined me, and then gave me a place to start. If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you might remember that last December I followed the Ultra Simple Diet on the recommendation of this doctor.  She ordered some blood work and also had me submit saliva samples — yes, saliva samples– to a lab to determine my level of adrenal functioning.

I followed her recommendations, and then — bam! — life got a little crazy at our house for a few months.  I kept eating wisely, but I worked too  much, lost track of my exercise plan, and stopped seeing this doctor.

By the end of summer, I had taken a few steps backward health-wise.  I had fallen into some of my old soldiering habits, ignoring my symptoms and pushing through for the sake of family, work, and, most honestly, selfishness.  My fall visit to my rheumatologist at the U was very disappointing.  I was told I had fibromyalgia and that I should find a doctor who would help me manage my symptoms.  Period.

Well, that was the impetus I needed to go back to the integrative medicine specialist.  I limped into the examination room complaining of pain, fatigue, and — a new one — hot flashes!  I was having up to eight extreme hot flashes during the day and that many again at night.  They stopped me in my tracks during the day and woke me out of a sound sleep at night. Furthermore, I was nearing hopelessness because of the verdict from rheumatology.

Step by step, Dr. Mary Greiner, addressed my concerns.  She used homeopathic medicines to address my symptoms. (Some other time I may write about how affordable these remedies are in comparison to pharmaceuticals.)  She also encouraged me to re-adopt my healthy practices of exercise and rest in addition to the dietary changes that I had been following — no gluten, no dairy, no soy.  And, she said I needed to get in to see a physical therapist in Chelsea, Michigan.  She said it would take me a while to get in to see her, maybe months.  However, I needed to see her because she is the one who could help me.   In fact, I’m pretty sure that Dr. Greiner recommended I see Marcy Boughton during that very first appointment almost a year ago.  I didn’t follow through initially, but finally around August, I called and made an appointment.  Last week I met Marcy for the first time.

Just like Dr. Greiner, Marcy listened to me for over an hour.  She wanted to know my physical history, yes, but she also wanted to know about major life events — my parents’ divorce, my experience with anorexia nervosa, the births of my children, our relocation to St. Louis, my reentry into the work force, and our relocation to Michigan. She wanted to hear how I had managed the stressors and, get this, she wanted to applaud my resilience.  Then, she wanted to affirm that this is a good time to allow my body some time to recover.

Yesterday, during our second visit, after having evaluated my personality type and some other socio-emotional factors, she had me listen to some audio teaching while she was gently applying pressure to assess my body’s needs and address some areas of concern.  Hers is a very gentle practice.  She felt my pulses as my acupuncturist had in the past.  She applied gentle pressure to my neck, my skull, my shoulders.  And, by touch, she found the most troubling area, my right hip.

As she applied gentle pressure to my femur, she played two audios.  The first spoke to my personality — my tendency to do, to achieve, to push, to take charge.  The audio celebrated the strengths of these traits — people like me get things done, they lead people, they have what seems to be unstoppable energy and enthusiasm.  However, the audio also identified the weakness — the tendency to overlook the interior, to neglect self-care, to lose touch with the personal.  The information I was hearing resonated.  On just the second meeting with this practitioner, the dots that I have seen clearly on the page, were being connected with an indelible black Sharpie. The second audio was the next step.  The speaker invited the listener to speak words of affirmation celebrating this driven personality — the strength, the vision, the ability to accomplish.  Then, it invited the speaker to heal, to acknowledge the areas that have been overlooked, to give myself permission to set down my weapons,  to slow down and be kind to myself.  As I listened, Marcy continued to apply pressure to that femur, gently attempting to release its torque.  When the audio was done, she said that during the second half of the second audio she was holding my femur when she felt a snap as though my femur broke and then repositioned itself. Interesting.

This is integrative medicine, folks.  I’m not going to tell you that my pain is gone today (although I will say I am no longer having hot flashes!). But, I’m feeling much better as a whole.  I feel like I am understanding myself — my whole self — a little more fully.  We are, after all, complex beings — we are body, soul, and spirit.  Addressing the needs of the body without attending to the soul and the spirit is, at best, a partial fix.

I’d like to tell you more of this story, but I’ve already used more than enough words for one day.  Perhaps tomorrow I will be able to tell you what I am learning about holding it all together.  For now, though, it’s enough to say that we are complex beings created by an even more complex Creator.

I Thessalonians 5:23

May God himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through. May your whole spirit, soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.

This is Now

I wonder how many times I am going to write the same content in this blog before I finally get it.

I’m knocked down again, because I was probably trying to do too much.

We had dinner with friends last week.  The couple asked me, “So how are you feeling?” I answered, “Well, I was doing great until I sat on the bleachers in the cold at the football game for three hours.” That was nine days ago.  Yes, it can be something that little.

I went on to explain the frustration I have with this because I used to be able to do so much.  So much.  But, as I’ve written so many times in this blog — that was then, this is now.

I knew I was in trouble last weekend when I had difficulty moving around the day after the football game.  We went to church then came home and rested.  I fussed and whined for a bit, then my husband suggested we go for a walk.  Movement always helps.  After we walked, we came home to make it an early night.

I didn’t adjust my schedule last week to allow myself time to recover, after all, I teach two hours three days a week and see a few students outside of that.  What would I need to pare down? I am already pared way down.   So, I was moving a little slowly, big deal.  Surely I could still teach and see a few students.

Well, a few students turned into ten hours of tutoring.  Add that to six hours in the classroom and five to six hours of prep and I still had a work week that was fewer than twenty-five hours.  However, we also went to dinner and a play on Thursday night. Then, we drove to a neighboring town on Saturday for a wedding.  Yesterday we spent the morning at church.  Finally, I uncharacteristically agreed to meet two students on Sunday evening.

And this morning? Well, I pried myself out of bed at 8:00am to take my meds and send messages to my doctors to see what I can do about the fact that I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.  My body aches– neck, hips, knees, back. My eyes are the worst — aching, irritated, sensitive to light. And fatigue?  Yeah.  I’ve made a promise to myself that I will shower at 11 this morning so that I am on time for my noon class. I will probably force myself to stay dressed long enough to drive out and refill my medication at the pharmacy, otherwise I won’t have pain meds tomorrow morning.  And, I will likely make an agreement with myself that I am only allowed to watch television and crochet if I do twenty minutes of Pilates first.

And, I know I’ve got to do some preparing because I have four students tomorrow — one who is new.  Wednesday I teach and then I will see four more students. And even that, folks, is sounding like a lot right now.

It sounds like a lot to a girl who used to arrive at school before 7am, prepare for students or attend meetings until 8, teach, observe other teachers, mentor students, run with the cross country team, and still go home to make dinner, do laundry, and attend events with the family.

That was then, this is now.

I have to remind myself of what I wrote just a few days ago.  This opportunity to slow down has afforded me the time to reflect and find meaning in the ways that I have lived my life for the past forty-nine years. This new pace, this pace of now, is a blessing and an opportunity.

But today I don’t like it. At all.

Psalm 55:17

Evening, morning and noon I cry out in distress, and he hears my voice.

Hope for Healing

About a month ago I read a book given to me by a pastor friend.  I mentioned it in the post, “Praying for Healing.” I was wrestling with the conflict between believing that God can heal me and being content with my current state.  I still am, but some shift has happened.

First, I have begun to pray more consistently for my healing.  In those prayers, I have imagined what it might look like if I were fully restored to the health that I had just over three years ago.  It would be amazing.

Second, I went to my rheumatologist who has declared that my malady is not psoriatic arthritis, but fibromyalgia.  She has been saying this for a year, but this time she was more insistent.  In fact, her recommendation is that I go to a primary care physician who can prescribe medication to manage my pain.  She doesn’t need to see me any more; I just need to accept this diagnosis. Period.

Third, I consulted with my primary care physician, who specializes in integrative medicine.  She believes that I can feel better than I do. She believes that I will one day have a regular schedule again.

So, as any rational person would do, I decided to ignore the rheumatologist. I am not going to see her any more. Instead, I am stepping up the treatments suggested by my PCP.  And, oh yeah, I’ve been praying.  For improved health.  For complete healing of my body, mind, and spirit.  For an understanding of the pace that will work for me.

For the past month or so, my integrative medicine doc has been prescribing some homeopathic interventions.  They are weird. Small tiny pellets that look like the interior of a vintage bean bag come in a small brown bottle.  You put 3-5 of these pellets under your tongue, as directed.  That’s all.  Oh, and you can’t drink coffee.  Tea is fine, but something in the coffee renders the homeopathic remedies ineffective.

And here’s the thing about homeopathic remedies — sometimes they cause a mild flare before they improve health.  And, guess what.  They did.  I was on one of the remedies for just a few days when I had a recurrence of the ocular herpes that I contracted about a year ago.  It was miserable.  I had to see my ophthalmologist and get an antiviral to get it under control. Also, I have had a slow simmer of psoriasis for most of the time that I have been on these treatments.

However, here’s the good news.  I am noticing an increase in energy.  Now, granted, I did just change jobs, so I might be flying on adrenaline.  I did just reduce my hours, so I might not be as exhausted.  But, I am pretty sure this is legit improvement.  I mean, anyone with chronic illness will tell you that the overwhelming fatigue you feel on a daily basis is not something that can just be disguised by excitement or adrenaline.  I have been so exhausted for the past three years that I have been barely able to see to drive home at night.  I have had difficulty forming complete thoughts or sentences after dinner.  I have hardly been able to walk into the house at the end of the day.  But guys, this week I have started a new position.  I have met new students and remembered their names.  I have helped my daughter load up all her belongings for a cross country move.  I have hosted dinner guests.  And, I have stayed up late at night to blog, to read, and to manage family details.

It’s something.  I’m hopeful.  And for even this small improvement, I am thankful.

Praise the Lord, my soul;
    all my inmost being, praise his holy name.
Praise the Lord, my soul,
    and forget not all his benefits—
who forgives all your sins
    and heals all your diseases,
who redeems your life from the pit
    and crowns you with love and compassion,

Psalm 108: 1-4