This morning I woke up at a respectable time (7:30) and took my thyroid pill. It needs to be taken and digested on an empty stomach, so I put off tea or breakfast. By the time I got Nick dropped off at work, picked up dry cleaning, and started laundry, it was after 9. What I've been writing for the last few days was still on my mind. I've been dogged by the idea that I need to change my focus. I need to shift from being discontent with what I am to putting every effort into being something else. Negative (I don't want to be/I'm unhappy being) to positive (I want to be/I'm living like I am).
So in that vein, I decided it was time to do a WOD again. I still have a broken elbow, so there are a wide variety of things I can't do. But there are still things I CAN do. Starting on the ground floor of the apartment building, I ran up the stairs to the third floor, walked down the hallway running the length of the building, down the stairs to ground level, across through the parking lot, and back to the other set of stairs. I did that round 4 times, then went back up the stairs to our apartment. In the apartment I did 4 rounds of 10 air squats and 10 sit ups. The whole thing took me about 20 minutes, and then I took a shower and had a banana with almond butter and tea with milk for a mid-morning "breakfast". Then I picked up the book I'm working on right now, Deep Nutrition by Dr. Catherine Shanahan, MD. This book talks about the idea that the food you eat talks to your genes, and turns them off and on depending on what chemical messages are being sent. This is something that I've had a nagging feeling about, something that I've thought just has to be true but I've never really had words for. It's making me think a lot of things.
The first thing I'm thinking is that honestly, at the very core level, I got some good genes. The book talks about the idea that there really isn't a "genetically gifted" strain of humans. We all have the potential to become strong, athletic, and beautiful, but it's heavily influenced by the genes that are "on" at the time of our conception (and thusly, what our mothers are feeding themselves, and our fathers are eating).
I'm in a generation that was conceived before BigAg took over our food supply, before genetic manipulation of foods became so widespread, before our world became so automated and so sedentary. Essentially, I got un-messed-with genes to start with. My father comes from a long line of tall, strong, robust, workhorse bodies. My mom's genes are the more unknown, given her family history, but her father is still alive and well at 93 years old so there's gotta be something good there. The good stuff was turned on when I was conceived. I didn't start with "slowed down" genes.
I have known and acknowledged for a long time that I have good genes. My teeth are straight, my jaw is strong. I am tall, my muscles form quickly and grow easily. I have a strong heart (despite anomalous flaps of tissue). For a long time I was free of any persisting diseases, although Hashimoto's Disease and similar thyroid disorders do have a genetic component. My research into Hashi's has told me that there is *something* that is turning those genes on. They haven't narrowed it down to a specific factor, but they know there are components in the environment, in personality, and in our food consumption. Add in the idea from Dr. Shanahan's book, and it falls into place. Our food talks to our genes, and in that way our food becomes us. The food we eat forms us. Which I have always known, but never really believed on a gut level. (Sorry, bad pun, couldn't resist!)
So essentially, if food is a conversation you're having with your body, what conversation do you want to have? Do you want to be a bully? Do you want to throw crap at your body, useless oils and calories and unrecognizable chemicals from the food labs, and see what your body does with it? Do you want to treat your body like an experiment and see what happens when it gets a steady supply of nothing it's evolved to need? The current generation really is a demonstration of what happens when the body doesn't get what it needs to be optimally healthy. Incidents of heart disease, cancer, and diabetes type II are astronomical, and we know those diseases are acquired. We know those diseases are a result of lifestyle choices in the majority of suffers (as with any absolute, there are exceptions that prove the rule).
After my late breakfast, I finished the laundry and a couple of other tasks, then walked across the street to drop off the dry cleaning and get a salad from the deli. I was intent on the Apple Valley salad: apples (vitamins A, B, C, K, and fiber), dried cranberries (vitamins C, E, K, manganese, and fiber), salad greens (potassium, manganese, calcium, pantothenic acid, iron, and fiber), walnuts (vitamin E, folate, omega 3 fatty acids), goat cheese (calcium, protein, niacin, thiamin), and chicken (protein, vitamins B6 and B12, selenium) and balsamic dressing (iron, maganese). Basically I just had a really good conversation with my body. I gave it pieces that it needs to be healthy and to turn on the right genes.
I see good things coming from this shift in focus.
Thursday, July 2, 2015
Wednesday, July 1, 2015
What the brain perceives, the body achieves
Yesterday I had a chance to organize my thoughts, outline the challenges of the last 6 months, and whine it all out. Writing the list helped focus me and gave me the opportunity to let it all go. Now that it's not whirling around in my mind anymore, I can let it float off into the ether.
And that leaves plenty of room for looking forward.
I still have the same goals. I always have the same goals. Well, calling them goals isn't exactly right because I've never really put words to them. I've always had this sense that I want More. I want Different. I want to be, or do, Something Else. I've never been able really to doggedly pursue a goal because I've never had words for where I'm going. All I've ever had words for was Not Here. It's really hard to live a life based around being discontent, never satisfied, with where you are and what you are achieving. The most disheartening part of it is the sense that your energies are being spent on the wrong things, that instead of moving forward you're just desperately trying to not slide backward.
My entire life I've had the sense that where I am, what I do, what I achieve, is Not Good Enough. I've never done something and sat back to rest on my laurels. My brain immediately thinks up ways that I could have been better, the achievement could have been more stellar, I could have been more remarkable. If I can't come up with a way that my achievement could be more of a success, then I fall back on "but I'm still fat and that is NOT acceptable". I've always blamed myself, labelled myself, torn myself up for not being thinner, but I've never systematically attacked the issue. I've tried all sorts of diets! I skipped the cabbage soup diet, and I missed the Master Cleanse, but I've had experiences with all the others. Always with the sense that where I am is not acceptable, not with the perspective that I am moving forward to something better.
I guess it's all about perspective. But if the body follows the brain, then this body is an example of trying not to be what it is, instead of trying to be something better. Hmmm. I don't know if I'm expressing this quite right. My focus is always on the fact that I'm overweight, I'm awkward, I'm graceless, I'm injured, and that is what I'm perpetuating. For my body to change, my focus needs to change.
Which brings me to the "goals" I have always had. Never in sentences, but always there in fleeting images and big black Xs. As an example, yesterday I took the train to Irvine. At the Irvine station you have to climb 4 flights of steps, walk across a bridge over the train tracks, and go back down 4 flights to the train station. When I finished going up the steps I noticed that my thighs were burning. Huh, weird. Since when do my thighs burn this much after 60 steps? I immediately started with the excuses: I have a broken arm and that makes moving awkward, I'm carrying my laptop and a bag of books and that's heavy, my load is awkward. I did everything I could to not focus on the fact that I'm not as in shape as I would like to be. By giving myself excuses I give myself permission to stay right here. My brain will perpetuate what I focus on, and I'm not focused on being better. I'm just focusing on accepting that I'm not happy where I am.
I don't want to accept that. I don't want to stay as that. I don't want to spend my life being unhappy with what I am, but making constant excuses that allow me to remain here forever.
So. I need some goals. More than goals, I need an entirely new approach. I need to change EVERYTHING about how I approach this challenge.
And that leaves plenty of room for looking forward.
I still have the same goals. I always have the same goals. Well, calling them goals isn't exactly right because I've never really put words to them. I've always had this sense that I want More. I want Different. I want to be, or do, Something Else. I've never been able really to doggedly pursue a goal because I've never had words for where I'm going. All I've ever had words for was Not Here. It's really hard to live a life based around being discontent, never satisfied, with where you are and what you are achieving. The most disheartening part of it is the sense that your energies are being spent on the wrong things, that instead of moving forward you're just desperately trying to not slide backward.
My entire life I've had the sense that where I am, what I do, what I achieve, is Not Good Enough. I've never done something and sat back to rest on my laurels. My brain immediately thinks up ways that I could have been better, the achievement could have been more stellar, I could have been more remarkable. If I can't come up with a way that my achievement could be more of a success, then I fall back on "but I'm still fat and that is NOT acceptable". I've always blamed myself, labelled myself, torn myself up for not being thinner, but I've never systematically attacked the issue. I've tried all sorts of diets! I skipped the cabbage soup diet, and I missed the Master Cleanse, but I've had experiences with all the others. Always with the sense that where I am is not acceptable, not with the perspective that I am moving forward to something better.
I guess it's all about perspective. But if the body follows the brain, then this body is an example of trying not to be what it is, instead of trying to be something better. Hmmm. I don't know if I'm expressing this quite right. My focus is always on the fact that I'm overweight, I'm awkward, I'm graceless, I'm injured, and that is what I'm perpetuating. For my body to change, my focus needs to change.
Which brings me to the "goals" I have always had. Never in sentences, but always there in fleeting images and big black Xs. As an example, yesterday I took the train to Irvine. At the Irvine station you have to climb 4 flights of steps, walk across a bridge over the train tracks, and go back down 4 flights to the train station. When I finished going up the steps I noticed that my thighs were burning. Huh, weird. Since when do my thighs burn this much after 60 steps? I immediately started with the excuses: I have a broken arm and that makes moving awkward, I'm carrying my laptop and a bag of books and that's heavy, my load is awkward. I did everything I could to not focus on the fact that I'm not as in shape as I would like to be. By giving myself excuses I give myself permission to stay right here. My brain will perpetuate what I focus on, and I'm not focused on being better. I'm just focusing on accepting that I'm not happy where I am.
I don't want to accept that. I don't want to stay as that. I don't want to spend my life being unhappy with what I am, but making constant excuses that allow me to remain here forever.
So. I need some goals. More than goals, I need an entirely new approach. I need to change EVERYTHING about how I approach this challenge.
Monday, June 29, 2015
Down but not out
I would like to know what deity I angered by making it to 2015. How did I tempt fate? What challenge did I unknowingly issue to the powers that be? Was I getting too confident? Did the burst of pride I got from completing Badger on Christmas Eve just make the energy of the world wrong? 2015 has been...well. I'm trying not to use defeatist self talk, I'm trying to stay positive and always look forward. But if I were honest, 2015 has been a challenge and I'm a little intimidated by the idea of finishing out the year.
January: I got the flu. I caught the honest to goodness influenza virus on vacation over New Years, and when I got back from that vacation I was down for the count. Unfortunately I realized what I had only after I gave it to my husband and HE was diagnosed with it, so I couldn't take any of the take-within-the-first-72-hours medication and had to ride it out. Thank goodness I was reasonably healthy, but I was still knocked down for the month. I didn't feel like I was anywhere near my usual self until February.
February: Trying to maintain a work schedule, a workout schedule, work toward goals, and do everything on a depleted immune system, I caught another cold mid-month. Thankfully it was just a garden-variety cold (and trust me, there is a VAST difference between a bad cold and the flu) and I got better faster. But given that I was only running at about 75% strength anyway, it was a hit.
March: Struggling with my rapidly depleting health, in desperation I Went outside of my health insurance coverage to a naturopath. Essentially I felt like we weren't treating the problem, we were only addressing symptoms. Headaches, fatigue, weight gain, and various other systemic issues were getting so bad that my performance at work was suffering and I was beginning to feel really threatened. With a series of blood tests, I was diagnosed with Hashimoto's Thyroiditis and started on thyroid. I was also given progesterone, both because I was showing signs of being perimenopausal (common with thyroid disorders) and because of a strong family history of female cancers.
April: Breathing/asthma was bad, and I went to Urgent Care for a breathing treatment. This is something I have had to do with increasing regularity, and the doctor on call that day wanted an X-ray of my lungs to make sure I didn't have any residual pneumonia from being sick at the beginning of the year. That X-ray revealed that I had an "anomalous flap of tissue" on the right atrium of my heart. I am instructed not to work out hard enough to push either my breathing or my heartrate, until we can get an EKG and check things out. Greeeeeaaaaattt.
May: I'm twiddling my thumbs. I go to the box but I can't push. It's really hard to go to a Crossfit box and not get your heartrate up! It's difficult to not challenge breathing that is already challenged. Around the middle of the month I had the EKG, and then a week later I got the response that all was clear and I could work out to my heart's desire again. Brilliant!
June: In the first week I got to the box three times. I stumbled upon my motivating word, my focus, my motto. My word is FIERI (yes, like the actor). It's the latin word for DONE, as in finished, completed, achieved. I sketched it out as if it were a template for a tattoo, combining my long-standing love for the transformational power of the butterfly symbol and this powerful word. I was imagining it on my skin as an emblem of achieving goals and using it to focus my energy.
Then we went to England, yay! In the first few days I walked quite a bit, as you do in any European city. The first day there, struggling with jet lag, I covered 15,000 steps. Then the second day my count was around 12,000. Then the third day...
I BROKE MY ARM.
Yes. I broke my arm. I have a non-displaced (not separated) radial head fracture. Basically I cracked it. It's painful but getting better, still restricted range of motion (obviously). I'm off work for 6 weeks, until the very end of July, to allow it to heal. Until that time I'm restricted to no weight bearing, no pushing, no pulling, and no lifting greater than 2.5 pounds. It's my right arm and I'm right hand dominant, so it's difficult to not use it, especially given that my left arm is so damaged and restricted in the first place. I can't drive because I can't shift. With Nick in Irvine and everyone working, I'm basically sitting at home and talking to the cats.
I'm trying really hard to be positive. I'm trying to use this as motivation. I'm trying to set goals and amp up my determination. I get knocked down but I get up again, dammit. Ain't never gonna keep me down. I just have to figure out how to get up again. I'm getting really tired of having to get up in the first place. Haven't I gotten up enough??
January: I got the flu. I caught the honest to goodness influenza virus on vacation over New Years, and when I got back from that vacation I was down for the count. Unfortunately I realized what I had only after I gave it to my husband and HE was diagnosed with it, so I couldn't take any of the take-within-the-first-72-hours medication and had to ride it out. Thank goodness I was reasonably healthy, but I was still knocked down for the month. I didn't feel like I was anywhere near my usual self until February.
February: Trying to maintain a work schedule, a workout schedule, work toward goals, and do everything on a depleted immune system, I caught another cold mid-month. Thankfully it was just a garden-variety cold (and trust me, there is a VAST difference between a bad cold and the flu) and I got better faster. But given that I was only running at about 75% strength anyway, it was a hit.
March: Struggling with my rapidly depleting health, in desperation I Went outside of my health insurance coverage to a naturopath. Essentially I felt like we weren't treating the problem, we were only addressing symptoms. Headaches, fatigue, weight gain, and various other systemic issues were getting so bad that my performance at work was suffering and I was beginning to feel really threatened. With a series of blood tests, I was diagnosed with Hashimoto's Thyroiditis and started on thyroid. I was also given progesterone, both because I was showing signs of being perimenopausal (common with thyroid disorders) and because of a strong family history of female cancers.
April: Breathing/asthma was bad, and I went to Urgent Care for a breathing treatment. This is something I have had to do with increasing regularity, and the doctor on call that day wanted an X-ray of my lungs to make sure I didn't have any residual pneumonia from being sick at the beginning of the year. That X-ray revealed that I had an "anomalous flap of tissue" on the right atrium of my heart. I am instructed not to work out hard enough to push either my breathing or my heartrate, until we can get an EKG and check things out. Greeeeeaaaaattt.
May: I'm twiddling my thumbs. I go to the box but I can't push. It's really hard to go to a Crossfit box and not get your heartrate up! It's difficult to not challenge breathing that is already challenged. Around the middle of the month I had the EKG, and then a week later I got the response that all was clear and I could work out to my heart's desire again. Brilliant!
June: In the first week I got to the box three times. I stumbled upon my motivating word, my focus, my motto. My word is FIERI (yes, like the actor). It's the latin word for DONE, as in finished, completed, achieved. I sketched it out as if it were a template for a tattoo, combining my long-standing love for the transformational power of the butterfly symbol and this powerful word. I was imagining it on my skin as an emblem of achieving goals and using it to focus my energy.
Then we went to England, yay! In the first few days I walked quite a bit, as you do in any European city. The first day there, struggling with jet lag, I covered 15,000 steps. Then the second day my count was around 12,000. Then the third day...
I BROKE MY ARM.
Yes. I broke my arm. I have a non-displaced (not separated) radial head fracture. Basically I cracked it. It's painful but getting better, still restricted range of motion (obviously). I'm off work for 6 weeks, until the very end of July, to allow it to heal. Until that time I'm restricted to no weight bearing, no pushing, no pulling, and no lifting greater than 2.5 pounds. It's my right arm and I'm right hand dominant, so it's difficult to not use it, especially given that my left arm is so damaged and restricted in the first place. I can't drive because I can't shift. With Nick in Irvine and everyone working, I'm basically sitting at home and talking to the cats.
I'm trying really hard to be positive. I'm trying to use this as motivation. I'm trying to set goals and amp up my determination. I get knocked down but I get up again, dammit. Ain't never gonna keep me down. I just have to figure out how to get up again. I'm getting really tired of having to get up in the first place. Haven't I gotten up enough??
Sunday, May 3, 2015
Really healing
I started the elimination diet seriously on March 28th, at the same time I started taking half a grain of thyroid. Two days later, I started taking 100mg of progesterone at night. In that time, I've had improved sleep, increased my daily step counts, have managed to recover my energy levels enough to go to the box 1-2 times a week...and I've lost 18 pounds. Yes, in 5 weeks. Yes, it is astonishing.
When I first started the elimination diet I ate nothing but salads and meat. About a week later when I was brave enough I added roasted carrots and parsnips. That's what I ate for a couple of weeks, and I was content. I wasn't starving, and I didn't feel like my body was trying to drive me toward more food. I would eat a salad and a portion of meat and be content. I didn't have cravings for sugar, even though I wasn't really eating any (just some fruit). My brain was quiet. I realized, startlingly, that I had been eating enormous portions of food--not because I was hungry and not because I was fighting disordered eating habits, but because my body was desperately trying to find energy somewhere. I've never had it so boldly illustrated to me that the body will seek what it needs, no matter what the conscious brain is trying to achieve. When I started my medication and my body could finally get energy out of my food, everything settled down and the clamor was quiet. I am not seeking energy anymore. I finally have energy.
Things I had not even realized were that bad have improved substantially. My brain has turned back on! I'm a reasonably intelligent human and slowing me down gets me to about average, so it wasn't obvious that I was struggling. I thought I was tired (I was), I was stressed (I was), and I needed a break (I did). But it never occurred to me that my thinking was just slowed down, that the brain requires 25% of your daily calories and if my body couldn't unlock and process them, then my brain would be suffering too. Once the medicine started to kick in, though, my brain turned back on. I've been more involved in my patient's care and more in tune with necessary tweaks to their programs, I've been noticing details and making appropriate changes, and I've been far more detail-oriented and aware. My co-workers say the change is like night and day, and it's very very obvious that my issues were medical and not my intelligence or personality. It is a great comfort to have it confirmed that I did not make a grave error when I chose my career path, that the choice I made to attempt to give back some of the healing I received after the accident was not short-sighted and misguided.
Going through this I have read repeatedly that I have to be gentle with myself. Every book I have read so far about Hashi's patients identifies us as perfectionists, those who are driven and successful until they hit a wall. I've had repeated moments when I've wondered if someone is spying on me, because everything I'm reading is exactly my experience. Ever since I was young I've been driven--I even have a waist chain that has a charm that is engraved with the word! I've always been a perfectionist. I've always held myself to the highest standard. Now, going through this, I'm repeatedly reading that this is the time to be gentle. This is the time to accept a 10-minute walk. This is the time to forgo that 5am workout in favor of more sleep. This is the time to accept that sitting on the couch and reading is the right choice, even when the house needs to be cleaned and you have a list of projects waiting for your attention. Now is the time to be gentle.
I feel like I am healing. There have been no moments when I've been so tired or busy that I've wanted to cry. There have been no moments when I've told myself that the best I can do isn't good enough. I have felt peaceful. I have been attentive to sleep and rest and what I'm eating, to my medications and my supplements, to taking real care of myself instead of just trying to patch it together so I can keep pushing.
I feel better.
When I first started the elimination diet I ate nothing but salads and meat. About a week later when I was brave enough I added roasted carrots and parsnips. That's what I ate for a couple of weeks, and I was content. I wasn't starving, and I didn't feel like my body was trying to drive me toward more food. I would eat a salad and a portion of meat and be content. I didn't have cravings for sugar, even though I wasn't really eating any (just some fruit). My brain was quiet. I realized, startlingly, that I had been eating enormous portions of food--not because I was hungry and not because I was fighting disordered eating habits, but because my body was desperately trying to find energy somewhere. I've never had it so boldly illustrated to me that the body will seek what it needs, no matter what the conscious brain is trying to achieve. When I started my medication and my body could finally get energy out of my food, everything settled down and the clamor was quiet. I am not seeking energy anymore. I finally have energy.
Things I had not even realized were that bad have improved substantially. My brain has turned back on! I'm a reasonably intelligent human and slowing me down gets me to about average, so it wasn't obvious that I was struggling. I thought I was tired (I was), I was stressed (I was), and I needed a break (I did). But it never occurred to me that my thinking was just slowed down, that the brain requires 25% of your daily calories and if my body couldn't unlock and process them, then my brain would be suffering too. Once the medicine started to kick in, though, my brain turned back on. I've been more involved in my patient's care and more in tune with necessary tweaks to their programs, I've been noticing details and making appropriate changes, and I've been far more detail-oriented and aware. My co-workers say the change is like night and day, and it's very very obvious that my issues were medical and not my intelligence or personality. It is a great comfort to have it confirmed that I did not make a grave error when I chose my career path, that the choice I made to attempt to give back some of the healing I received after the accident was not short-sighted and misguided.
Going through this I have read repeatedly that I have to be gentle with myself. Every book I have read so far about Hashi's patients identifies us as perfectionists, those who are driven and successful until they hit a wall. I've had repeated moments when I've wondered if someone is spying on me, because everything I'm reading is exactly my experience. Ever since I was young I've been driven--I even have a waist chain that has a charm that is engraved with the word! I've always been a perfectionist. I've always held myself to the highest standard. Now, going through this, I'm repeatedly reading that this is the time to be gentle. This is the time to accept a 10-minute walk. This is the time to forgo that 5am workout in favor of more sleep. This is the time to accept that sitting on the couch and reading is the right choice, even when the house needs to be cleaned and you have a list of projects waiting for your attention. Now is the time to be gentle.
I feel like I am healing. There have been no moments when I've been so tired or busy that I've wanted to cry. There have been no moments when I've told myself that the best I can do isn't good enough. I have felt peaceful. I have been attentive to sleep and rest and what I'm eating, to my medications and my supplements, to taking real care of myself instead of just trying to patch it together so I can keep pushing.
I feel better.
Friday, April 3, 2015
Missing variables
For as long as I can think, I have always "done the math". I have always run the numbers on my caloric need, my calorie burn, I know the different formulas off the top of my head. I've long known the calories in a gram of protein, carbohydrate, fat, or alcohol. I know the recommended percentages as well as the percentages of other diet programs--Atkins, Protein Power, high protein, low fat, whatever. The numbers have never helped me. They've never actually reflected what is happening in my body, but that doesn't mean I haven't tried.
I have always been an intellectual. Or a nerd. Whatever you want to call me, I've been an established devotee of things we know and can prove for my entire life. I am trained as a scientist, and I have two science-based degrees (AS in Physical Therapy Assisting and BS in Kinesiology, emphasis Physical Therapy). I'm even taking another science--Nutrition, ironically enough--just for fun right now, and I'm debating finishing up that degree also just for the hell of it. I believe in science. And it seemed like science had betrayed me.
Mel very quickly pointed out that science hadn't failed me at all. She astutely observed that I have a disease, and I was trying to work with an unknown variable. The idea struck me in the face. It was so bloody obvious. You're never going to get the right answer if you don't have all the parts of the equation. It felt like I was beating my head against a wall, and I was. It's astonishing I kept beating for so long, honestly, and is just a testament to how stubborn I am (ahem--I don't like not being able to understand something) and to how much I want this. Mel's observation, which I couldn't see, freed me to move forward. I was able to let go, in that instant, of all the anger and frustration and disappointment in myself at not being able to "do this" when apparently everyone around me could.
IT'S NOT MY FAULT.
I am not stupid. I'm actually very smart.
I am not inept. I'm very capable and I have many talents.
I am not a glutton. I need energy, and my body is struggling.
IT'S NOT MY FAULT.
I am free.
I have always been an intellectual. Or a nerd. Whatever you want to call me, I've been an established devotee of things we know and can prove for my entire life. I am trained as a scientist, and I have two science-based degrees (AS in Physical Therapy Assisting and BS in Kinesiology, emphasis Physical Therapy). I'm even taking another science--Nutrition, ironically enough--just for fun right now, and I'm debating finishing up that degree also just for the hell of it. I believe in science. And it seemed like science had betrayed me.
Mel very quickly pointed out that science hadn't failed me at all. She astutely observed that I have a disease, and I was trying to work with an unknown variable. The idea struck me in the face. It was so bloody obvious. You're never going to get the right answer if you don't have all the parts of the equation. It felt like I was beating my head against a wall, and I was. It's astonishing I kept beating for so long, honestly, and is just a testament to how stubborn I am (ahem--I don't like not being able to understand something) and to how much I want this. Mel's observation, which I couldn't see, freed me to move forward. I was able to let go, in that instant, of all the anger and frustration and disappointment in myself at not being able to "do this" when apparently everyone around me could.
IT'S NOT MY FAULT.
I am not stupid. I'm actually very smart.
I am not inept. I'm very capable and I have many talents.
I am not a glutton. I need energy, and my body is struggling.
IT'S NOT MY FAULT.
I am free.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Five days
It's been five days since I got my diagnosis. Not even a full week, and yet it feels like it's been forever. In some ways, that is.
I've been fighting these symptoms for years. I am in the process of looking back, cataloging, reliving. I am in the process of piecing together what turns out to be a very clear path to this diagnosis, including all the little off-shoots of doctor dismissal, distraction, and dissuasion. I am a bit mortified, really, and angry with myself for accepting for so long that I didn't know my body best. It's long been my tendency to turn my body over to others whom I thought knew better than I did about how my body responds. I accepted direction regarding what I should look like, what I should weigh, how I should wear makeup, how I should dress, how I should exercise, when I should rest. I accepted that whatever I was eating, even if I wasn't actually eating anything at that precise moment, was bad for me and something I should never consume again, and I should rightly follow the direction of other people because they knew better than I did.
I followed low fat. I followed low calorie. I followed manic cardio. I followed conventional wisdom, even when it was painfully obvious that my body responded well to precisely none of it. Even when, if I had been honest with myself and accepted what my body was trying desperately to communicate to me, it was very apparent that my body was actually deteriorating under what I was trying to force it to become. I labored under the delusion that other people knew best, and I was just not applying myself diligently enough. It's appalling to me, looking back, that I accepted so much outside interference in what should be our most deeply personal, private experience. And I've paid for that interference with years of self doubt and deteriorating health that have brought me here.
"Here" feels at once triumphant and overwhelming. I knew something was wrong. I knew the numbers didn't add up, and as diligently as I tried to apply all the advice and suggestions I should have been getting much more of a response out of my body. I knew, as a clinician trained in gathering and interpreting physical response data, that something wasn't adding up. And yet the amount of time I spent trying to "try harder" has dug me further into the hole, and I'm so deep in that I can barely see the light of the sky far above me. The task of unearthing myself seems huge, no pun intended. It seems like too much. Too many steps, too many change. Nothing one person can do.
I've been fighting these symptoms for years. I am in the process of looking back, cataloging, reliving. I am in the process of piecing together what turns out to be a very clear path to this diagnosis, including all the little off-shoots of doctor dismissal, distraction, and dissuasion. I am a bit mortified, really, and angry with myself for accepting for so long that I didn't know my body best. It's long been my tendency to turn my body over to others whom I thought knew better than I did about how my body responds. I accepted direction regarding what I should look like, what I should weigh, how I should wear makeup, how I should dress, how I should exercise, when I should rest. I accepted that whatever I was eating, even if I wasn't actually eating anything at that precise moment, was bad for me and something I should never consume again, and I should rightly follow the direction of other people because they knew better than I did.
I followed low fat. I followed low calorie. I followed manic cardio. I followed conventional wisdom, even when it was painfully obvious that my body responded well to precisely none of it. Even when, if I had been honest with myself and accepted what my body was trying desperately to communicate to me, it was very apparent that my body was actually deteriorating under what I was trying to force it to become. I labored under the delusion that other people knew best, and I was just not applying myself diligently enough. It's appalling to me, looking back, that I accepted so much outside interference in what should be our most deeply personal, private experience. And I've paid for that interference with years of self doubt and deteriorating health that have brought me here.
"Here" feels at once triumphant and overwhelming. I knew something was wrong. I knew the numbers didn't add up, and as diligently as I tried to apply all the advice and suggestions I should have been getting much more of a response out of my body. I knew, as a clinician trained in gathering and interpreting physical response data, that something wasn't adding up. And yet the amount of time I spent trying to "try harder" has dug me further into the hole, and I'm so deep in that I can barely see the light of the sky far above me. The task of unearthing myself seems huge, no pun intended. It seems like too much. Too many steps, too many change. Nothing one person can do.
Saturday, March 28, 2015
Good lord, it's almost April
It's been one hell of a year so far.
So January was essentially lost to the influenza virus. I've never had the flu before, and I tell you--the flu is no joke. Everyone who says they "have the flu" when they just have a bad cold doesn't realize how much they are tempting fate. I spent four weeks trying to recover, and all the way into mid February just trying to return to my regular schedule.
In February, I caught another cold. Well, damn. This one was a cold and not another bout of the flu, but since I hadn't fully recovered I was smacked down again.
This brings us to March. I've been trying repeatedly to get back to the box and get back to healthy eating, and I've been severely exhausted. I finally gave up on getting help from my regular doctors and went outside my health insurance to a holistic practitioner. I saw him on a friday night, and without even running tests he looked at me and said he was 90% certain I had a thyroid condition. But, in the interest of corroborating evidence, he ordered a whole slew of blood tests and gave me some supplements and directions to follow until we got the results back.
Supplements, I could do. I was already taking iron per my neurologist to help with headaches and migraines, prescribed because he discovered that my ferritin levels were....8 (range 12-150). I was already taking D3 per my endocrinologist, prescribed because my D3 was...12 (range 65-85). He added vitamin B12 and L-tryptophan to help with sleep, and L-theanine (green tea extract) to boost my metabolism. He also wanted me on a quarter grain (16.25 micrograms) of Nature Throid, a natural thyroid supplement. So I've got a nice little pile of pills to take right now along with my regular allergy and asthma medications and inhalers. Sigh. Getting old sucks.
But anyway.
The diet I gave up on before I tried it. I have to admit, I was just done. I was so frustrated and so burned out on putting energy into fighting an invisible foe that I just ate what I wanted. I try to be gluten free and I have for about 8 years now, well before it was a popular concept, because I have long known that gluten and wheat tear me up. But when I'm disheartened and frustrated and hopeless I don't care how bad my body feels. I just couldn't fight anymore.
So the last two and a half weeks have been careless. I own it, I admit it. I've been feeling really run down, and I felt hopeless.
Then I got a call from Dr. Joe.
He told me that he had numbers for me, and they were a good and bad thing.
TGAb, an anti-thyroid autoimmune marker, should be less than zero. Mine was 44.
TPO, another anti-thyroid autoimmune marker, should be less than 8. Mine was 52.
FreeT3 and T4 were both "low normal". TSH was high.
Estradiol was high.
Vitamin D, when I already take a 5000IU supplement every day, was 35. It should be above 65, and Dr. Joe would like to see mine closer to 85.
He told me that this all points to the autoimmune disease called Hashimoto's Thyroiditis. My own immune system is attacking my thyroid, and causing havoc throughout the metabolic systems in my body.
My headaches? Hashi's symptom.
Constantly cold? Hashi's symptom.
Dry skin? Hashi's.
Acid reflux no matter what food is eaten? Hashi's.
Thinning hair? Hashi's.
Brain fog? Hashi's.
Low body temperature? Hashi's.
Chronic respiratory issues? Hashi's.
Depression and bouts of mania? Hashi's.
Trouble sleeping? Hashi's.
Sudden rapid weight gain with no change in habits? Hashi's.
Difficulty losing weight in spite of good habits? Hashi's.
All the things I've noticed going wrong that I've just accepted and dealt with, or individual doctors have addressed without looking for an overarching cause...yeah. Hashi's symptoms. ALL OF THEM. Reading through the available information was like reading about my own life. Were they watching me? Was I being filmed? Was I being set up?
Dr. Joe was afraid he was giving me bad news and he repeatedly told me not to panic, that we'd get me set on a program to tackle this and get me feeling better at our next appointment. I didn't have a chance to explain to him that I'M NOT UPSET. I'm THRILLED. I have been fighting these little things, separately, for years. I have known, for years, that something is not right. The math does not work. Something in my body is going wrong, and I've tried repeatedly to get someone to help me diagnose what's going on. I'm thrilled to pieces to actually have an answer, and having such a well-known and well-studied answer (Hashi's was the first autoimmune disorder ever discovered) makes me feel fantastic. Now that I know what I'm fighting, and I'm not being blamed for eating too much or blindly told that I need to exercise more, I can fight. I can fell a known enemy.
I can do the diet. It's not much different from Whole30, honestly. I can do that. I can do exercise, once I get my energy back. I can stick with this because I know what I'm fighting and why I'm doing it. I also have the missing piece, the attention to the actual thyroid hormone and the other supplements I need, all being monitored as I progress. I can DO this.
I'm ready to get better.
So January was essentially lost to the influenza virus. I've never had the flu before, and I tell you--the flu is no joke. Everyone who says they "have the flu" when they just have a bad cold doesn't realize how much they are tempting fate. I spent four weeks trying to recover, and all the way into mid February just trying to return to my regular schedule.
In February, I caught another cold. Well, damn. This one was a cold and not another bout of the flu, but since I hadn't fully recovered I was smacked down again.
This brings us to March. I've been trying repeatedly to get back to the box and get back to healthy eating, and I've been severely exhausted. I finally gave up on getting help from my regular doctors and went outside my health insurance to a holistic practitioner. I saw him on a friday night, and without even running tests he looked at me and said he was 90% certain I had a thyroid condition. But, in the interest of corroborating evidence, he ordered a whole slew of blood tests and gave me some supplements and directions to follow until we got the results back.
Supplements, I could do. I was already taking iron per my neurologist to help with headaches and migraines, prescribed because he discovered that my ferritin levels were....8 (range 12-150). I was already taking D3 per my endocrinologist, prescribed because my D3 was...12 (range 65-85). He added vitamin B12 and L-tryptophan to help with sleep, and L-theanine (green tea extract) to boost my metabolism. He also wanted me on a quarter grain (16.25 micrograms) of Nature Throid, a natural thyroid supplement. So I've got a nice little pile of pills to take right now along with my regular allergy and asthma medications and inhalers. Sigh. Getting old sucks.
But anyway.
The diet I gave up on before I tried it. I have to admit, I was just done. I was so frustrated and so burned out on putting energy into fighting an invisible foe that I just ate what I wanted. I try to be gluten free and I have for about 8 years now, well before it was a popular concept, because I have long known that gluten and wheat tear me up. But when I'm disheartened and frustrated and hopeless I don't care how bad my body feels. I just couldn't fight anymore.
So the last two and a half weeks have been careless. I own it, I admit it. I've been feeling really run down, and I felt hopeless.
Then I got a call from Dr. Joe.
He told me that he had numbers for me, and they were a good and bad thing.
TGAb, an anti-thyroid autoimmune marker, should be less than zero. Mine was 44.
TPO, another anti-thyroid autoimmune marker, should be less than 8. Mine was 52.
FreeT3 and T4 were both "low normal". TSH was high.
Estradiol was high.
Vitamin D, when I already take a 5000IU supplement every day, was 35. It should be above 65, and Dr. Joe would like to see mine closer to 85.
He told me that this all points to the autoimmune disease called Hashimoto's Thyroiditis. My own immune system is attacking my thyroid, and causing havoc throughout the metabolic systems in my body.
My headaches? Hashi's symptom.
Constantly cold? Hashi's symptom.
Dry skin? Hashi's.
Acid reflux no matter what food is eaten? Hashi's.
Thinning hair? Hashi's.
Brain fog? Hashi's.
Low body temperature? Hashi's.
Chronic respiratory issues? Hashi's.
Depression and bouts of mania? Hashi's.
Trouble sleeping? Hashi's.
Sudden rapid weight gain with no change in habits? Hashi's.
Difficulty losing weight in spite of good habits? Hashi's.
All the things I've noticed going wrong that I've just accepted and dealt with, or individual doctors have addressed without looking for an overarching cause...yeah. Hashi's symptoms. ALL OF THEM. Reading through the available information was like reading about my own life. Were they watching me? Was I being filmed? Was I being set up?
Dr. Joe was afraid he was giving me bad news and he repeatedly told me not to panic, that we'd get me set on a program to tackle this and get me feeling better at our next appointment. I didn't have a chance to explain to him that I'M NOT UPSET. I'm THRILLED. I have been fighting these little things, separately, for years. I have known, for years, that something is not right. The math does not work. Something in my body is going wrong, and I've tried repeatedly to get someone to help me diagnose what's going on. I'm thrilled to pieces to actually have an answer, and having such a well-known and well-studied answer (Hashi's was the first autoimmune disorder ever discovered) makes me feel fantastic. Now that I know what I'm fighting, and I'm not being blamed for eating too much or blindly told that I need to exercise more, I can fight. I can fell a known enemy.
I can do the diet. It's not much different from Whole30, honestly. I can do that. I can do exercise, once I get my energy back. I can stick with this because I know what I'm fighting and why I'm doing it. I also have the missing piece, the attention to the actual thyroid hormone and the other supplements I need, all being monitored as I progress. I can DO this.
I'm ready to get better.
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