I wish that healing were a straight line — and maybe for some people it is…
But not for me.
My life lessons and healing seem to resemble more of a cinnamon roll approach:
The beginning is sort of the end
And the end is sort of the middle.
There’s the crusty edge
And the doughy center…
And that whole, mysterious bit that’s in between.
I wish healing tasted as good as a cinnamon roll, but it seems more to be a process that makes my life taste better by virtue of this:
My gratitude gets increased through the sticky mess of it all.
Anybody else looking for something that’s warm, gooey, and sweet — or is that just me…
For me, in this season, I’ve gone from my thyroid meds not working (again) and sending my body into severe hypothyroid (again) — to switching meds (again) and stabilizing
The again part can be the hardest part.
It’s when you’ve already done tons of work, made great progress and then,
Anything Else that Can Throw You Off
And now, you’re back to the drawing board.
Not exactly square one…
But there are those setbacks that happen because we let too much of life in
And too much of ourselves out –
Or our body shifted due to perimenopause (cough, cough)
And our meds got amnesia and didn’t know how to work anymore…
Either way or all of the above,
The point is:
We have to heal.
Lately, my days have been filled with me looking at
Messes in our home,
Papers for our homeschooling,
E-mails for my business
And details for our life and going,
“Meh…nope. I don’t think so.”
And going back to bed.
Where I laid, feeling restless and guilty about all the things that screamed for my attention
But I just didn’t have the bandwidth to do anything about.
I’m not sure if it was the brain fog, exhaustion or depression that was the biggest overwhelm
Or if it was just this fear,
Deep down in my being
That I wasn’t going to bounce back from this unless I took it seriously.
Even though it was tough to resist the urge to do it all,
My thyroid was telling me that if I didn’t bend,
Something would break.
Where to Start, Again
Because I have my kids in certain programs — like homeschooling classes, orchestra and basketball, I needed to prioritize my energy around those commitments. I had to think through what it would take for me to get them up and out the door on Mondays for class. It took back-tracking a few days to make sure art projects and essays were done since last-minute things can be stressful.
And trust me: There were last-minute things.
Many of them.
I just had to pull it together as best as I could and where I couldn’t: apologize.
And because I’m a co-provider for our family through my Hashimoto’s coaching and music instruction, I had to prioritize coaching my clients and teaching my vocal and piano students. I would have to look ahead and make sure that I didn’t put too much in the mornings of those days so that I would be there for my clients in all categories.
That was tricky.
Because I still had things to do and learned the lesson, over and over, that I tend to do too much when given the opportunity to do that.
Saying No, Again
In an effort to have my kiddos be in social groups and go on field trips, I found myself driving all across the globe to connect them to others. I’d leave in a state of exhaustion and dishevel and arrive feeling like someone just dragged me off the back hitch instead of driving in the front seat.
Note to self: That completely sucked because I felt awful most of the time.
So, at some point, I sent a round of apologies to the other homeschooling moms and said, “No can do. I’ll catch you when my TSH doesn’t resemble a golf score.”
It ached me to explain to the boys that mom feels like poop-on-a-cracker and they were going to be stuck, housebound (with yours truly) for a few weeks instead of being around fun kids their age — and you know what?
They said, “No problem, Mom. You just get well.”
Actually, Thing 1 said, “You’re a potato and you need to rest.”
I don’t know what one has to do with the other, but I definitely felt the love with both the “Potato” term of endearment and the “need to rest” comment.
They were okay. They weren’t crushed. And like Gloria Gaynor: They would survive.
And that made me feel like a less-awful-mom for being so tired, cranky, and slow.
This seems to be a life calling for me:
I’ve heard it through different seasons and here we are
There is stuff underneath why we try to control life and not let others help.
I think it has a lot to do with, “I don’t trust…”
I don’t trust things will get done.
I don’t trust something bad won’t happen.
I don’t trust that people will stay if I’m a mess.
I don’t trust that love will be able to handle this.
I don’t trust that I will still be valuable.
I don’t trust that (you) or I can handle the disappointment in me.
I don’t trust that you will still respect me.
I don’t trust that you won’t take advantage of me.
I don’t trust
That if I let go
Will catch me.
There are so many hard things about surrender, when you’re thinking about it
But there are so many good things that happen when you actually do it.
The relationships that are worthy, remain or get redefined.
The bullshit that doesn’t matter, goes away.
The things that do matter, get stronger.
The stuff that falls apart amuses you instead of stressing you.
And best of all? You get to experience miracles.
Of people being amazing
Of money appearing
And strangers encouraging
And an inner strength inside of you surfacing.
We never know how much The Universe is there to catch us
And support us
Until we let go
Hashimoto’s had me standing on the ledge, again.
The precipice was high and the valley was steep. It took up the better part of my year of 2016…but I’m coming back and I’m feeling stronger.
And best of all, I’m seeing that my family, friends, and fellow colleagues in the Hashimoto’s world are there for me — not just when life is grooving,
But when life is spiraling
and I’m struggling
to find my way back up
out of the dark of the night.
Just like when Maslow reminds us in his famous few words when he asks and answers,
“What is life here for? It’s here for you.”
And with that, I would add just one, tiny, magical, hope-filled word:
“What is life here for? It’s here for you…