This Is What I Thought About Today

I am stuck in the middle.

Stuck in between a world that says I am too sick and a lifestyle that says I am too healthy. I am trapped between my “normie” friends and family, and my social media pages that continue to validate and authenticate the symptoms I am genuinely feeling.

This is a hard place to live, a hard place to be stuck.

Recently, about a week ago, I signed up for a new yoga studio; it’s what I need, the location is close to my home, it is small and welcoming. I haven’t gone yet. My week was busy so I was unable to make the Tuesday class I’ve been enjoying for the last month, so I planned to make up for it over the weekend. I planned to begin my renewed self-care journey and allow time for my health, physical and emotional. What a great lifestyle I planned to return to.

Saturday came, class was at 10  am, I was finally relaxing in my bed. I finally slept through the night after weeks of waking up, after days of feeling more tired than before I went to bed. And I decided, I feel good I have the day to relax so I am going to take advantage of that. I am going to trust that in this moment, I should stay home. I should stay in bed with my boyfriend that I rarely spend quality time with, I should stay home with my purring cats that believe they are lacking in attention. I should stay home for me because I am trying to listen to my body more. I told myself I will go Sunday morning.

And now, it’s Sunday morning and I return to the idea that I am too sick to live the lifestyle I want, at least to live it on my terms. Yesterday I did things right. I took time to rest, I ate somewhat healthy, worked to avoid trigger foods for the most part (but when your amazing chef of an uncle makes mac and cheese it is certainly hard to resist) and took time to decompress before bed. I did things right.  I woke up at about the same time I wake up normally despite having not slept well. I woke up because every muscle felt stiff and screamed in pain, every joint stuck in its place. I woke up because my head was spinning and my stomach was unsettled. I turned and pulled the blankets off (there’s many because it’s always so cold) and swung my feet over the edge of the bed and realized, yoga was not going to be a good idea today. I am trying to listen to my body more.

When I have days like this Sunday morning my mind races, my thoughts are on a loop and I feel defeated. I think of my doctor, I think of my many doctors and get so…apparently lost for words. It’s days like these that I wish my doctors were in my home. I wish my doctors who invalidated what I feel and often dismiss my questions could now see how my body responds to this disease despite doing things “right.”

However, I remind myself that this is my world, this is my reality and I am grateful that as my doctor says, “there is nothing wrong on the outside.” There is nothing functionally wrong with me, and it is mainly sensational; for lack of a better way to put it, it really is all in my head (silly leisons). As he put it the other day, my legs continue to show up for work each day, despite the effort it takes. My lungs continue to allow breath, regardless of the heaviness they feel.

So, while I continue to listen to my body I learn again what days to do yoga and what days to allow deep rest. The rest that requires I stay in bed, not the coveted savasana after an active practice. I have returned to listening to my emotions as well. I have given myself that privilege. When my body continues to cry out that it just cannot take any more, I pause. I am still and I feel. I am reminded that this is the most potent thing of all, to truly feel.

To truly feel with acceptance and without judgment. This week I shared with a close, close wonderful friend the science behind anxiety and we talked about how insanely powerful the hold of emotions can be on the physical and mental state of one’s being and I was reminded how important it is to honor that power. So this is what I am choosing to do.

I choose to live a life of honoring the sick and experiencing the power of my disease and of my own emotions.