I was Due for Something Bonkers.

I am on vacation.

I don't know if it's the break of it all and everything finally all coming to a head and needing some kind of a release, but it probably wasn't that.

It could have been that I tried to see over 20 clients in 3 days. I only had like three cancellations, and then I had people who I couldn't get in at first, but was able to fit them into said cancellations. The last three days have been...we'll say busy because it sounds nicer than "a total chaotic shitshow" at work.

It could be the stress of all of the medical stuff (the thyroid extended biopsy came back benign, so I had much relief-crying to do after that) or the impending medical procedures I'm going to be having over the next six months, starting with an endocolonoscopy in 4 weeks. Maybe it was my way of exerting some kind of control over what's happening to me medically.

It could just be that the last time I took a break it was because my dog died. I really needed a break at that point, but it got eaten by grieving. (I'm also not entirely sure that this break won't be eaten up by the same grief but more manageable, but I'm hopeful that it will be better.)

It could also be pandemic fatigue and having to have Christmas over FaceTime with both of my parents instead of just one because of COVID and feeling really sad about it. Or it could just be this COVID bullshit in general.

It really could be any number of things.

My point is this: Before I tell you what I'm about to tell you, I feel the need to preface with the fact that I've got a lot going on. A lot. Also there's some Stuff that I'm Still Not Ready To Put Out There Because I Have To Get Some Ducks In A Row First But Trust That It's Taking Up All Of My Free Time.

I feel that I also need to preface what I'm about to tell you with the fact that back in August, I got a Very Bad Haircut. The person had not the first clue how to cut curly hair, and she gave me choppy layers. Were my hair straight, these layers probably would have looked great. But they didn't at all. Also, I have a hair appointment today that I frantically made at 6am today to fix what I've done. You see where I'm going with this.

I never, to my knowledge, went through a phase when I was a small child where I cut my own hair. Maybe it was 6-year-old curious Ryan coming out. I could say that I was having some weird Freudian Regressive Temper Tantrum in response to the stress I've been under over the past 6 weeks, but really, I'm 90% sure that with my hair, I just Hit My Limit.

Generally, when I've hit my limit when it comes to my hair, I am patient. I either ride it out and know that this too shall pass, or I make a hair appointment. I had no such patience yesterday. I took one look at my hair, took my damn scissors and I chopped 4 inches off of my hair. I cut off that whole bottom layer. It was dead and gross and I just...couldn't take it for one more second. My biggest mistake, however, was in keeping my hair in a ponytail while I did it. Because then I undid it and had to cut off two more inches.

I laugh at myself for doing that, because it's just about the most impulsive thing I've ever done, ever. I try not to be super impulsive, but as we all know, it's hard to plan being impulsive. There was definitely a build-up, but I could have made a different choice and I didn't. I just went for it.

I suppose there are a couple of lessons here - the first being that I need to take better care of my hair and speak up when I've been given a disastrous haircut. And, that being super impulsive like this doesn't really serve me so great. That's not a lesson that I need to learn, necessarily, but it definitely is something I need to remember. I suppose this is not the worst way for my impulsiveness to show itself - it could have been much more destructive, but when I get that urge to do something impulsive, it would likely be more helpful to tune into it than act on it. I usually do - but I don't know what came over me this time.

Anyway, time for my well-deserved chiding from a hairdresser, which I'm also used to because I don't get my hair cut enough and I don't go in unless my hair is in terrible shape. Because I don't and have never had a regular hairdresser in my adult life (save for my first two years of college), any hairdresser that I go to gives me the reality of my hair unvarnished because they know that I'll never see them again anyway. There's something freeing about it for both of us, and maybe that's why I don't have one. However, in times like this, I kind of wish I did have a regular hairdresser, because I could have called them before I got to this point with my hair and they would have been able to get me in before I cut six inches off of it myself.

Or maybe I need to take my Professional Overthinker Hat off for about five seconds and just laugh at myself because it's ridiculous and that's the reaction that's warranted here and not make anything of it. I'm not, necessarily - it's pretty hilarious and my hair is a total and complete trainwreck - but it's unclear to me why I reached that point without doing anything about it first. I think once I can figure that out, I'll be able to laugh at it for the truly ridiculous act that it was.

But, one could argue that I was due. Not just for a haircut, but for a time to just let loose and do something ridiculous. Maybe this was just what I needed. Snort.

Sweet, Miraculous Ativan

“I had a hunch you’d call after we got the test results from your thyroid biopsy,” said my doctor. 

I never thought my anxiety would get to the point where I’d be panic-sobbing at my doctor’s office because it became so unmanageable that I wasn’t sleeping and I was barely eating, yet there I was.

I’ve had panic attacks before. I know what they feel like. I’ve been able to get through them without meds, understand them for what they were, and ride them out. It’s only happened once or twice, and there was usually a medical trigger.

Then Miles died. Then two days later I had a thyroid biopsy. Then the following Monday (this past week) I got the call from my doctor: Indeterminate. This means that the extra samples that she took during the biopsy get sent to a lab for further testing and there are only two possible results: benign or suspicious. If it’s benign, monitor the nodules every six months. If it’s suspicious, my thyroid is coming out and they’re doing pathology on it and hopefully (and pretty likely - the rate of metastatic thyroid cancer is less than 5% if the cancer originated from nodules - if you think I haven't been researching obsessively since she called with the initial test results, you are sorely mistaken) there will be no further steps from there. I’ll know around Christmas what the next steps are.

I’m seriously considering having it taken out anyway so that I never have to go through this again, ever. It’s an option that is available to me since I have thyroid nodules, and I think that discussion may be worth having. When she and I meet in 3 months, we are absolutely having that conversation if it doesn’t come up before that.

Then a couple of days later, I met with my Lynch person and waited in the most depressing place ever (let me tell you, an oncology office is just...I can’t find the words for the sadness there. The receptionists were overly cheery, I think to try to overcompensate for the general feeling of malaise - and the look that people give you when you look young and walk into an oncology office made me want to scream that I don’t have cancer, I don't think, and even if I do it's not reproductive cancer so STOP GIVING ME THAT LOOK PLEASE) to sit with her and have her tell me that the only reasonable treatment for Lynch is to have a full hysterectomy. She went over some alternatives, all of which were painful, invasive, would mean that I’d have to be put under, and would have to happen once a year, and recommended none of them except the hysterectomy. I told her about my thyroid issue and that I have to triage. She totally understood and remarked that that’s a lot of medical stuff to throw at a person all at once. She wasn’t quite prepared, I think, when I started crying.

Luckily I could anticipate this tipping point coming and was already scheduled with my doctor for 7am the next day!

“We really opened a can of worms here, but it was worth opening. If you’re going to have any kind of cancer, thyroid’s the one you want. It’s treatable by surgery, and the recovery and long-term remission rate is 99%," said my doctor. I'm not sure if she intended it to be, but I found it both reassuring and not. I expected "It's probably not cancer", but that's not what I got, and it took me a little time to process that. She also said that in order to stop the panic cycle, we have to reset my sleep schedule. I went drastically from 9-10 hours a night to about 4. I also went from eating two meals a day and some snacks to having to practically force one meal a day down my throat. She gave me a prescription for Ativan.

I was...not entirely wild about this idea. “Ativan is addictive!” I told myself. “Is my anxiety really that bad?” I asked myself as it sat on the shelf in my kitchen (which is a super fun game that people with anxiety play - they catastrophize and then when it gets really bad, they invalidate, lather, rinse, repeat.). If I was going to take it, I was going to wait until the weekend so that I wasn’t a total mess during the week more than I already was. Then Friday night came and I figured, what could it hurt? So I took a half a pill.

From a week and a half of struggling to sleep and getting an average of four or less hours a night (less than that even when I found out the biopsy results), I was out in minutes. I’m not sure if I was asleep or comatose, and I woke up sore because I didn’t move all night. I woke up refreshed in the morning and was productive! I was also awake pretty late, which was strange. I also found my appetite, which was both a blessing and a curse because Doritos. But, I was able to be present, I wasn’t anxious about anything, and I just...was able to get out of my own way for the first time in a while. I got stuff done around my house, I was able to focus, I hardly used my phone at all (it's my go-to coping mechanism when I'm feeling super anxious), and I definitely felt a difference.

I’m having such a strongly positive reaction to these meds that I find myself low-key wondering: have I been in a perpetual state of some kind of panic for a long time and it has just gone unacknowledged?

All signs point to yes. But, that's Later Ryan's problem. The most important part is that now that I have one week of waiting down, I feel like I can manage doing this two or three more times without unabashedly losing my shit, and that ain’t nothing.

Sweet, Sweet Relief.

I love teaching. I absolutely love it.

I also love closing the book on a good semester where all of the students are SUPER engaged and ready to learn and grow, and I get to bear witness to all of it. I just love it. It helps that I'm teaching at the graduate level because that's what happens every semester, and so I feel SO lucky to be doing what I'm doing.

I just closed the book on the fall semester (which is KIND OF an effing miracle with everything I have going on) and I'm off for the next seven weeks or so. Does that come with challenges? Yes. Do I also really need the break? YES. Because of COVID, my teaching schedule has been nothing short of frenzied since January. Breaks are a wonderful thing, and I've been ready for one since about August without the opportunity to get one. Now that it's here, I'm kind of in disbelief that I won't be teaching for seven weeks, and I don't know what to do with myself.

Of course, I know what I WILL be doing with myself.

I'll be going to doctor's appointments, having an endocolonoscopy, and possibly having a surgery (but hopefully not - I'll know more around Christmas). I have a lot going on that I'm not super ready to talk about yet, but after my second Lynch appointment today, I have more answers, and I'm feeling really good about this part of the plan going forward. There's more still to be figured out with other things, but I'll freak out for about four weeks and then I'll have more answers.

I've also decided that it's time. I've contacted my doctor and I have an appointment at 7am tomorrow to talk about getting back on anti-anxiety meds. I've tried to function for a long time without them and done fairly well with it, but with all of this health stuff that has come at me like a tsunami lately and some major changes that I'm going to be making in my life, I need some support. I'm going back to therapy too, but I know in my guts that it's not going to be enough. I feel pretty relieved about it, if I'm telling the truth, because I'm finally giving myself the support that I need and not trying to tough it out. Trying to tough out anxiety is like trying to tough out a sinus infection - it's really painful and annoying, and it will go away with time, but it would take a lot less if I just went on a damn antibiotic and got rid of it. I'm just...ready to feel better. It doesn't have to be perfect, just better.

I also know that my new doctor is a good one because I tried to make an appointment for tomorrow and she was like "I'm fully booked but willing to come in at 7 to see you." While 7 isn't my ideal time for an appointment, that she'd be willing to do that for me is pretty remarkable. She also can handle Real Talk about mental health stuff, of that I'm sure, so I'm going to just make the active choice to lay it out there and see where it goes. I know what I need, and I feel like she trusts that I know what I need, and so I'm hoping she'll meet me there.

But for now, I go crochet and toast with seltzer to the close of another successful semester and get ready to tuck into wintertime.

And probably decorate the Christmas tree. We bought it over the weekend and it's just sitting undecorated in our living room, making it nice and fragrant in here. Thank goodness the only thing our puppy is doing to it is sniffing it and drinking the water. We'll see how she does with ornaments and presents underneath it. (I actually kind of can't wait because I know it will be adorable even if it's a huge pain, and I have a hunch that I'll be re-wrapping some presents, but that's ok!)

Intentionality

Hello, Friends. 

I'm going to talk about something that I struggle with a lot, and that's being intentional about how I spend my time. Because I've spent so much of my life with the perception that things just happen to me instead of feeling like I have a say (and let me tell you, I've done some MAJOR work on this over the past 10 or so years, but I still definitely have a long way to go), intentionality ain't my strong suit. I was doing well for about a month recently by spending my time putting self-care at the forefront. Yoga was the way I did this, and it felt great, and I was able to generalize it to other areas of my life with some majorly positive results.

Then I found out about the genetic disorder and was totally overwhelmed by the amount of stuff I'd have to do in the beginning to manage it.

Then a family member had major surgery, which was related to this genetic disorder.

Then like 6 of my clients went into crisis and had to start being seen multiple times a week temporarily.

Then I made some Big Professional Decisions That I Can't Talk About Yet That Also Don't Feel Like They're Real Yet.

Then I realized that my income is going to be cut in more than half for the next two months because I won't be teaching and started unabashedly freaking out even though I know intellectually that we're going to be fine because we've been saving for this time knowing that it's coming.

Then my dog died and had to take the entire week off of work not just for the holiday, but also because I was in no mental place whatsoever to handle the grief AND having to be present with my clients.

Then I had a thyroid biopsy and I have a huge gross bruise on my neck. Thank goodness for scarves, let me tell you.

Yeah, November was a BITCH. Work-wise, every year it is. I'm not sure if it's the holidays, or if people are finally in a groove for the school year and that's when all of the difficulties rear their ugly heads, but regardless of the reason, I was in it. What that means when I'm in it is that I get knocked out of sync with my self-care. I stopped going to yoga. I stopped eating well. I just...stopped. The holidays are also hard for me for a multitude of reasons, and that's not a small piece of the puzzle, especially this year.

This happens from time to time and it costs me a great deal in terms of my mental health in particular. So, I realized what was happening and then I decided to do something different. I got in touch with my therapist to get back into therapy (I always tick up this time of year anyway because holidays), and made a few other intentional decisions, and then I sat down a few minutes ago and looked at the schedule of my yoga studio. I put myself in for five classes this week knowing that the excuses I was making not to go were no longer valid. Not going was keeping me from meeting myself where I was, and it didn't allow me any more space. It wasn't causing me any less stress not to go - if anything, it was making it worse. Regardless of all of that, I was coming up with excuse after excuse after excuse not to go. That all stopped today.

I don't know where it happened (I suspect it started happening before yesterday, but that's when I started noticing it), but something along the way just just...clicked. I was having a really hard time. Like, really hard. Our best friend invited us to go to the park with her son and Ruby and I just...couldn't do it. So I let Rob and Ruby go and sat by myself unraveling a blanket, making a giant yarn ball, and crying. Weird, maybe. But it was what I needed to do for myself at that point in time. I'm doing better today, but I know that things like this are going to happen over the next few weeks. There have been MAJOR ups and downs this week, which will get better with time, and I'm sure are not made any easier by the fact that my thyroid medication changed and it's wreaking all kinds of havoc, to the point where I might call my doctor. I want to ride it out and see if it gets any better and give it a little time and see if my body is able to even out, but we'll see.

Sigh. What I've come to realize (and this was a long time ago that the realization came, I just am not consistent about doing anything about it) is that the chaos in my life will be no less unless I make it so. Sometimes I just have to get out of my own way - if I want less chaos, that's what's got to happen. There's literally no other way than making the choice and realizing that not making the choice is also making a choice.

This post deserves a hashtag. Here it is.

#shitisaytomyclientsallthetimebutdonteverfollowmyself

An Ode to my Beloved Pet

Today, we had to put Miles, the first dog I've ever owned, to sleep. His decline started on Thursday - he was sluggish, lethargic, and struggled to eat. "Maybe he ate something bad while countersurfing", we thought, and felt affirmed on Friday when he appeared to rebound, waking up and immediately wanting to play with Ruby. He was eating, he was doing great. Then Saturday, same thing. I breathed a sigh of relief on Saturday, thinking we were out of the woods.

We very much weren't, I realized, on Saturday night. We went out to do some Christmas shopping and when we returned, he was again sluggish. He had to be coaxed to eat. He was Officially Not Himself. "Let's give it the night," I told myself. "He'll wake up in the morning better just like he did on Friday. This is a passing thing." I think we were both trying to convince ourselves that this was not him telling us that it was time.

He woke me up around 2am, pacing and whining quietly. He tried to lay down, but was up again after a little while, would pace and drink water, rinse and repeat for about 6 hours. Ruby had training class this morning, so Rob agreed to take him to the emergency vet and I would meet them there after class was done. Before he left, we had to have the conversation: If it was really bad or it was going to take something really invasive and drastic to make it ok, would we take those measures? For both of us, it was a resounding no - his quality of life forever being our North Star, we couldn't do that to him. To have tried to prolong his life at the expense of his quality of life would have only benefited us, and after all he has given us in his 9 and a half years, we just couldn't do that. If it was something small that could easily be fixed, absolutely. Fix it. Get him back to his old self. I think at this point we both knew in our hearts and our guts that this wasn't the case. I checked in after we finished and they still hadn't taken him in, but by the time I got there they had and they had an answer: Massive internal bleeding probably from cancer somewhere in his abdomen, or potentially a ruptured spleen. Either way, there was nothing we could do, so we had to let him go.

We got the news and I just...sobbed. And sobbed. I wondered how this could have happened because he got two pristine bloodworks - one in July and one before his dental surgery in September. And then we learned that only one of us could go in with him. I sobbed harder. Rob and I talked about it, and I offered for him to go in - he was Miles' Person, but Rob, ever the compassionate soul that he is, let me go in. We brought him for a cheeseburger, which I ordered through tears at the McDonald's drive through, and I wondered to myself how many people they had done this for. He he didn't eat it, which I expected. Then we brought him back to the vet, Rob said his final goodbyes, we brought him in, I petted him and whispered in his ear that he was the best boy, kissed him one last time between the eyes, which was my favorite place to kiss him, and then let him go.

I don't think I've ever been more anxious about an animal as I was Miles' entire life. I mean, literally from the moment I picked him up from work (I was working at the SPCA at the time) on that March 31 in 2011. We were kindred spirits, he and I, because he was so anxious that we had literally JUST had an appointment with our vet about putting him on drugs like a week ago. A week ago yesterday. The prozac is waiting at CVS right now to be picked up, even. He bonded with both of us right away, but because I was around him more (because I could bring him to work with me at the time), he bonded with me quickly. He bonded with Rob more slowly, but theirs was a love that was so deep and plentiful that I just loved watching them together. I often found myself envious of their bond.

I'm not sure if it was the stigma of owning a pit bull that I had unconsciously internalized (though he never had a single bite in his history ever - but he was a Big Dude, and I remember when he was younger but full-sized, there would be times that I would walk him and because he was so reactive, people would cross the street to the other side, and to top it off, he was a smiler - when he got excited, he'd show you his teeth, which tended to scare people until we explained), or if it was just First Dog Jitters, or a combination of the two. But I was constantly wracked with anxiety the entire nine and a half years that we had him in our lives. My worst nightmare, today, was on my mind all the time, especially in the last year or two. It was with me when he had kennel cough and then a secondary infection, during which he had a chronic cough for a year and a half and there were times I was sure we were going to lose him. It was with me whenever we passed another person or a dog and he got reactive. It was with me when he got into my Jolly Joes when he was six months old. It was with me whenever we had visitors. It was always with me. 100% of the time. There was no reason for it and if I had been able to let it go, the quality of relationship that I had with him may have been better, but the love we had and still have for this dog is a long-burning one. I can say with 100% certainty that we did the right thing today. I can say with 100% certainty that we did our best to make sure that we spoiled him rotten, as he deserved. And he responded in kind by making me feel more loved by a dog than I could have ever dreamed of. What could we do in that unconditional, unabashed, and constantly present love we were being shown? We did everything we could to do right by Miles and show him the love that he has so unconditionally shown us, and that included listening to him when he told us it was time.

Do I grieve? Of course I do. But I'm also filled with this overwhelming sense of relief that we did the right thing and that we gave him the best life possible. I don't know what to do now that he's gone, and there's this sadness and grief that has descended on our house that will dissipate eventually, but his absence is BIG. His absence is felt not only in the not barking at every passer by, or when my neighbors across the street deign to get in their car and drive away or at the mailman or the UPS guy, but also because that anxiety I felt was a huge weight that I now no longer carry, I don't know what to do with that not being present anymore. I'll miss his butt wiggles and him greeting me at the door. I'll miss him licking my feet when I do yoga. I'll miss him wrestling with Ruby and showing her how to dog. I'll miss him just coming and chilling out in my office when we're both in the middle of a work day and my clients cooing at him because he was just SO DAMN CUTE with that FACE. I'll miss his tap dancing whenever he sees us. I'll miss coming downstairs from a session or five in a row to him just chilling on the couch. I'll miss how excited he'd get when we brought out the toys or treats. There are about 15,000 other things that I will carry with me as a result of having him with us, and I have so much gratitude for each of those things that I might burst. But I also know that having those little things with me comes at a cost. Love this big comes with grief in equal measure, so I'm in for it over the next few days and weeks as I adjust to his absence. I've only sobbed randomly once, and so I have hope that this weight will get easier to carry, having no expectation that it's ever going to go away, nor do I want it to because it means that I loved him, and I wouldn't trade that for anything.

Miles, you're the best first dog a girl could ask for. Thank you, endlessly, for the lessons and the love.

01/31/2011-11/22/2020
(He's also pretending to sleep in this picture which he did VERY
often whenever I tried to take pictures of him.
He absolutely hated having his picture taken.)

This is a bonkers idea. Is this a bonkers idea? This is a bonkers idea.

 Let me tell you what happens when I go off of my thyroid meds because I am absolutely terrible at two things:

1. Taking my medications/supplements regularly

2. Refilling my medications when they run out

I ran out of thyroid meds a week and a half ago. If there is anything that I should take, it's this medication. I've had normal numbers until about a year and a half ago, but various doctors over the years have been like, "you should take it." and then, "Nah, you don't need it. You can stop." and then, "You should take it." and then my naturopath was like "You should definitely take it AND here's a higher dosage."

The difference that I felt after I started taking that higher dosage was nothing short of remarkable. I was less anxious (and that's fun, because depression and anxiety are symptoms of hypothyroid), I slept better, I woke up more refreshed, and I had a clearer head, literally overnight. I was rolling along, taking it (basically) consistently, but having hiccups here and there, and really struggling to take it whenever my routine got thrown off, like on the weekends. That's one that will be a perpetual struggle, I think.

But, running out of medications. Right. So, I ran out a week and a half ago. "No big deal," I thought. "I'll just pick it up in the next few days."

And then I didn't. And then I didn't again. And then I started to feel sluggish. And angry. And just...heated. The only way that I can describe it was that it felt like someone had turned up my internal stove (except I was cold all the time) and I was just...not great. I was foggy, I was anxious, and I just was a pretty hard person to be around. I had been feeling like I'd been fighting something for a few days, and lo and behold, it was my thyroid. AND YET, I sat there the WHOLE DAMN TIME wondering why I was feeling that way, and pinning it to my Election Week Diet, which was terrible. I ate macaroni and cheese four nights in a row, that kind of terrible. I figured if I could fix my diet and get myself back to a place of balance in what I was putting in my body, then I'd feel better.

And then I didn't. At that same time, I also realized that I hadn't taken my thyroid meds in a week and a half. I just hadn't made the connection. Unbelievable. (I ALSO TRIED AND FAILED YOGA TWICE THIS WEEK AND COULDN'T FRIGGING FIGURE OUT WHY.)

I hopped back on the thyroid medication train this morning and I feel a world of difference already. I'm clearer, I'm feeling better, and I have energy to move around and stuff instead of just shuffling myself from one thing to the next, hoping that I'd be able to go to bed soon, please, or maybe I'll just nap in my work chair because I'm so overwhelmed that I feel like that's all I can do.

Right. On to my bonkers idea.

I was feeling a lot of internal noise all of a sudden earlier today and thought, "Oh good, my body is finally awaking from this damn stupor." On a break I had been reading Ask A Manager, one of my favorite blogs. The advice she gives is spot on, and I just love reading it.

And then my brain just...barfed something out that totally stunned me. I literally felt like I had been jolted by something.

Write an advice column about ethics for counselors. Start a blog, advertise to my social media groups, have people write in with their hypothetical counseling ethical conundrums, and take it from there, with eventually monetizing it. I need to tease it out from a liability standpoint to make sure I don't get sued, and I need to make sure that I cover myself as entirely as possible, but I think I'm going to do it.

I have some other irons in the fire that I'm trying to work out in the coming weeks, but that's what happens when your thyroid counts normalize; you can actually think and plan and, you know, do things you like because you actually like them and not because you feel like you have to or that it's a chore because everything's a chore when you don't feel well for reasons you can't pinpoint.

And go to your thyroid doctor, even if you know that it will probably end in a biopsy because you're three years late for the one you have to get every 10 years. Oops.

Genetic Disorders and a Rant About Patriarchal Bullshit

A few weeks ago, I found out that I have a genetic disorder that puts me at markedly higher risk for reproductive and colon cancers. As a result, 10 years earlier than someone without this disorder, I have to start getting colonoscopies. I also have a hunch that really invasive pap smears are in my future. Instead of once every 5-10 years for colonoscopies, I have to get one every one to two years. Also, I may be a candidate for a hysterectomy. I'll know more when I go to the doctor about it in November, but that's the preview that the genetic counselor I've been seeing gave to me.

Except, probably not. If I'm given the option between keeping my baby box and not, I'd opt not if given the option. Except I probably won't be given the option because I'm still of childbearing age. It is of literally no consequence to me whatsoever whether or not I have a uterus, but if I say that to a doctor, that likely won't matter. Unless I see a childfree-friendly doctor, the decision about this isn't actually going to be mine about when I get to make this decision if I'm ever a candidate for it, which I will be one day.

Do you know the one thing, the one thing that fills me absolutely so full of rage that I am almost blinded by it? That if I want to have any kind of reproductive surgery - salpingectomy, hysterectomy, whatever it is, even if there's a health risk for me to not do it, I have to get my husband's permission, and even then, if the doctor doesn't feel comfortable doing it, then it won't happen.

My risk of uterine cancer is double what it would be if I didn't have this disorder. My risk of ovarian cancer is nearly doubled. My risk of colorectal cancer is more than doubled. But let's make sure that I can have those kids that I've never wanted, and that my husband gives me his permission first before my decision about my body for my own health and safety can be honored, and then only maybe.

This chafes my ass for two reasons: First, it's patriarchal bullshit, through and through. Absolutely. Second, what happened to the Hippocratic oath? First, do no harm? How does it benefit me to keep my baby box, especially if doing so could cause me a marked amount of suffering in the future? And, why does that decision about my body actually rest with my spouse and my doctor? Why isn't that decision mine?

I go back to patriarchal bullshit. I'm trying not to get preemptively mad about it, but I'm finding it difficult. Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe the doctor that I see will be more childfree-friendly. Maybe they won't see it as a huge worry right now and thrusting myself into menopause at 40 won't be the best idea (though it would not be entirely unwelcome, I'll tell you that) for reasons that I haven't thought of, and I'm sure there are several. Who knows. I'll continue to stew about it until mid-November, which is when my first appointment is.

I will say, though, thank goodness for finding this out early before anything happens. I'm surprisingly chill about it, but I think it's more about the fact that I literally can't do anything about it - it's written in my genes - so why panic? I'm sure the panic will set in when I have to have a colonoscopy for the first time (I've heard that it's a colossally unpleasant experience) or any other number of medical procedures that I may have to have as a result of this diagnosis.

You know what I keep thinking about that, though? It won't be chemo. There's certainly something to be said about that.

The Biggest Benefit of Online Yoga and Yelling

Let me tell you, friends. I am SO happy that I have started yoga again. I am also very happy that I'm doing half online and half in person every week, and let me tell you why: The in-person classes are a true exercise in impulse control. I make this more meaningful because in the online classes, my screen is off and I'm muted, so I swear at that teacher like a sailor. I yell at them sometimes and it is SO CATHARTIC I CAN'T EVEN. I can't do that in in-person classes (I'm not one for talking all that much while I'm trying to do yoga - it's hard enough without conversation), and so I have to really be mindful of what comes out of my mouth. I did let an f-word slip a week or so ago in an in-studio class and the instructor laughed pretty hard, but they were making me do a side plank and SIDE PLANK IS THE DEVIL.

This is side plank. I don't actually look anything like this when I'm doing it because I'm still so clumsy.

Today, I took a core yoga class. It's murderously hard, but I never fail to feel better afterward. (It also helps that I wasn't having a massive reaction to red meat this time, so I was actually able to participate without nearly barfing.) I really like the teacher, and unexpectedly, he had us go to side plank from down dog. Terrible. That was when I started swearing. Then, shockingly, I yelled - "YOU CAN'T JUST TELL US TO DO A SIDE PLANK WITH NO WARNING! WHO DOES THAT? WHAT ARE YOU - A F&#CKING SADIST? YOU ARE THE WORST. AND FROM DOWN DOG OF ALL POSITIONS. YOU SUCK."

Luckily I was muted and I didn't have video on. I still have yet to do a successful side plank, but I'm getting there. I was actually able to take my knees off of the floor for a couple of seconds each side, so that ain't nothing.

I'm getting stronger every time I do a class, and I'm finding that the more accepting of myself and present that I am in these classes, the more accepting I am of myself in general, which feels really nice. I desperately needed some time to just...put everything away, and now three to five times a week for an hour or so, I do just that. I'm more productive, I feel more effective, and I just...feel better.

I'm also more tolerant of my asshole dogs who decide, without fail, that while I'm in yoga is the perfect time to wrestle. I've learned to tune it out, so that's also nice. Also, I'm taking the good with the bad, because they've started cuddling and it's basically the cutest thing ever.

Also, Miles loves yoga mats and Ruby loves peeing on yoga mats, so I've found myself being more careful about things. She also loves chewing yoga blocks and does the best up dog I've ever seen in my whole life. I'm jealous of her form.

He's ready for yoga class to start now, please. He also uses certain positions when he takes the opportunity to unabashedly lick my face or the bottoms of my feet because he's super helpful and hilarious.

 

Another funny thing that has happened is that I changed my profile picture on Zoom to my bitmoji, and I forgot that I did that and now it's my picture for yoga class. I went to sign up for the 20% off deal that they have once the one-month membership is up, and the person that I emailed with about it was like "Your Zoom picture makes me smile every time!"

So, self-care is going great, currently. I've got some things coming down the pike that may make the wheels fall off the wagon, but I'm already seeing how temporary it is because the semester ends in four weeks, so I'll have every Thursday off starting in early December through the end of January, and no, I'm absolutely not filling that time, even in the short-term. I am STOKED.

Meeting Myself Where I Am

It's hard to meet yourself where you are, and it's a pretty consistent struggle for me. I always have this impulse (not instinct - I thought it was for a long time, but it's not) to just push through no matter what I'm feeling. Yes, it's hard, but this too shall pass, so I might as well just buckle down and do it now.

This may be a great strategy for some, but it turns out that it's a TERRIBLE strategy for me. I'm finding that more adaptive ways are creeping in, and it's feeling REALLY empowering. For instance, I don't wait more than 15 minutes for a client to come on to a Zoom call. That was where it started, actually. I found myself sitting here and waiting and how long do I wait and should I wait the whole hour? I had a REALLY resounding "no" happening and I paid full attention to it from minute one. I've had a few people push back, but what I say is that this is regular therapy, even if it's a different medium, and so the same rules apply as they would if we were meeting in-person, which either includes being on time for session or letting me know if you're going to be late.

It has also started to happen with yoga class. There were a few times the first week where I was just...not mentally there. So I didn't push it. I was going along great, and then today (right this minute, actually) happened.

I tried a new teacher today, and I was hopeful - all of the other teachers that I've taken classes with have been GREAT. They're gentle but they also push and it's just the balance I need. I signed on this morning fully expecting to take a class with one of those teachers, and someone else came in as a sub unexpectedly. "Ok," I told myself; "I'll have an open mind about this. This won't be bad."

Oh, friends. Today is where I learned the lesson that not every yoga teacher is a good fit. She talked for the first fifteen minutes of class. Ridiculous. I don't need to hear your internal narrative about life, lady. I do that for my day job, and I didn't come to yoga class to hear it all over again. NO THANKS. But then we started to get into the poses and SHE DIDN'T STOP TALKING. I have the video muted because I don't want to be totally rude and just sign off of the Zoom call, but I guarantee that if I unmuted it, she'd still be gabbing away.

What I'm also positive about, along with the fact that she's not a good fit for me, is that it's also partly me. I have to acknowledge that because I see 10 clients on Tuesdays, Wednesdays are probably not the best day for me to do yoga. I've tried the past two Wednesdays and struggled to the point of not being able to get through a class each time. There's a pattern here, and I have to acknowledge that where I am in my head is a large part of that.

But still. There's a time for talking and a time for not, Lady. 

Joyous Exertion

 Friends, starting yoga again was potentially the best thing I've done for myself in years.

The first week was hard. Like, really hard. I couldn't concentrate because of the dogs, and the in-person classes that I went to were really hard. I also found every possible reason to fail and blamed those things for my failure rather than trying my hardest and sticking it out. The dogs were playing too loud and I couldn't concentrate. Ruby had to constantly pee. Then she would whine when I put her in her pen with 15 different toys and a jar of peanut butter (not really, but that's what it felt like). Then the room was too cold. Then Ruby peed on my yoga mat and that was all I could smell even after I cleaned it thoroughly. Then the room was too hot. Then I had no clean yoga pants. Then the room was too cold again. The floor was too hard. My feet kept slipping when I got sweaty and now I have this thing going on with my big toes because I depend on them too much in the more common poses. Then Miles insisted on licking my face for the entirety of shavasana that one time. Then Rob didn't stop the dogs from playing and have a VERY energetic 9-year-old dog and a 5-month old puppy sit still for 90 minutes and that's a totally reasonable expectation so WHY CAN'T HE DO IT. 

The thing about it was that I was scared. Of what? I don't know. Having more mobility? having more physical ability? An opportunity to not just sit my ass in a chair all day every day? Having to buy cute workout pants? That nothing will change in spite of my efforts (which is patently untrue, even two weeks later as I'm typing this)? The most unfortunate part of this was I spent a week being mad at my dogs and my husband in ways that they certainly did not deserve. 

Then I did another week and it got a little easier. I found out the hard way that red meat is on the no no list for me and then in the middle of all of that and tried to do a Core yoga class while having a pretty bad reaction to it, which turned out to not be the most helpful decision ever.

Then Friday happened. I changed my scenery a little bit by doing yoga in my living room instead of my office, and I think that was one small change that made it instantly easier. I pushed myself to do all of the poses and move through the vinyasas, and it just felt...easier.

Then came my class that I went to in-person Saturday. I told myself that I was going to push myself this time. I wasn't going to automatically revert to child's pose if I thought I couldn't do it - I was going to do basically the yoga equivalent of a "no thank you" bite. You know what happened? I DID IT. ALL OF IT. It wasn't easy, and I sweat a lot and swore to myself a lot and I almost fell a couple of times, but I did it. To say I felt amazing was an understatement. I'd moved my body in ways it hasn't seen in years, and I felt so accomplished and amazing.

Then came yesterday. I was doing my class online and it was the same type of class as the in-person one from Saturday, a Flow class. I love flow classes! It was with a different teacher and I was doing it at home and I felt a little nervous because I'd never taken a class with this teacher before, but I was going to tough it out. This teacher was basically satan (not really, but I sure swore at her a lot.). My legs hurt so bad today, and I left that class mad that it was so hard. But I did it. Every bit of it. Even Lizard Pose, which is basically the worst pose in the history of yoga poses. Also, you can't see it in this picture, but that front leg comes down and away from the body. HOW DOES ONE EVEN CONTORT THEIR BODY THIS WAY AND HAVE IT STILL FEEL GOOD? I suspect I will never know the answer to this question. BONKERS. AND THEN THERE'S THE FLYING LIZARD POSE IN WHICH YOU COME UP ON YOUR ARMS. YOUR ARMS, PEOPLE! 

What I've discovered is that I totally have a mental block about exercise of any kind, even if it's fun and I like it, and yoga fits very much into this category. I start off with the assumption that I can't do it, so I shouldn't even try, and then the wheels fall off the wagon from there. What I love about yoga is that you can meet yourself exactly where you are - no assumptions, no judgment. If you're in a mental place to push yourself a little further, great! But it's not a requirement. There's no pressure whatsoever to do something you can't/shouldn't or be someone you're not. 

What I've realized is that my block around exercise is totally, totally mental. I used to think that the problem was that I had this mentality of "what does it matter?" and while that thinking is problematic in and of itself, the actual root of that problem weed was that I start with the assumption that I can't do it. I can't do it and I'm going to give it up in frustration at some point anyway, so what does it matter? I was quitting before I even started! And then, if it got hard, my assumption that I couldn't do it was confirmed - see? I can't do it! I have been trapped in total black-and-white thinking about my ability to exercise for probably my entire life. Hello, gray area, very nice to meet you in this area of my life finally. I see you like the word "yet" at the end of my problematic thought here and that's uncomfortable for me, but it's getting easier. I appreciate your arrival and hope that you stay.

The moment you realize you're trapped in a problematic cycle of thinking is the moment you become freer from it, to a point. The first step in solving any problem is recognizing there is one, is what I'm saying. The thing is, I've known for years that I was trapped in this cycle, but I couldn't dig into the "yeah, but what's really happening here" underneath the "what does it matter" thought. I knew there was something there underneath it, but for some reason, I wasn't able to access it. Yoga helped me access that assumption that I can't do it and start to challenge it.

I'm not to the generalizing part of it yet, and I'm hoping I'll get there. I want to start running again and I want to mentally be able to tolerate hiking (what I've discovered is that it's about the pressure of summiting that I hate about it, so that's a step, even if I don't know what I want to do with that information yet), but I'm not there for either of those things yet. It's a process, as all things are.

Yoga and Other Shenanigans

 Friends, to say that I live a sedentary lifestyle would be an understatment. I sit in the same chair every day for anywhere from 8-11 hours, then I go downstairs, park my butt on the couch, and don't move until it's time to go to bed.

Literally.

Then this thing happened with my schedule where I'm suddenly free every morning. My temptation was to fill it and when the referrals didn't pan out, I saw it for the sign that it was and decided to use this morning time to get my fitness in at least some semblance of order. Or at least have a little bit of it.

I also just wanted to add some movement back into my life, so I decided to sign back up with the yoga studio I used to be a part of the first time we lived in this city. I loved that place! I also hadn't done yoga in a startlingly long time but have historically found it to be very beneficial to my wellbeing. Things have changed there, as they have changed everywhere, and so they offer online versions of the classes - they Zoom them in real time or you can go to the class if it isn't full. I opted to go for the online classes first to see how I did.

This was a no good, terrible, very bad idea for two reasons:

The first day, Monday, I was stoked. I was ready, I had my yoga mat, and my blocks and strap were elsewhere but whatever I probably wouldn't need them (spoiler alert: I did, in fact, need them), and I was READY. The class ran for an hour and fifteen minutes. Because of the dogs and how loud and wrestly they are, I got maybe 30 minutes in and ended it so frustrated that I was like "nope. This isn't going to work." But silly me, I tried it again this morning. I planned to put Ruby in her pen, Miles is on drugs anyway from his surgery yesterday so he's pretty docile (and has been resting on my rug all morning), so I should be good.

Except I brought Ruby out for her morning outside time to poop, and she didn't. We stayed out there for 20 minutes. She didn't. The second I brought her in, she started doing the poop dance and started to squat on the living room rug. So I brought her out again. Still nothing even though we stayed out there, again, for a good long time. I was like "you know what? Whatever." I started class late, and then I went to work. About 15 minutes in, I steal a glance Ruby's way, and she's doing the poop dance and squat again. I rush her out of her pen and bring her outside for literally 30 minutes. Nothing.

What an asshole.

So I brought her back in, but by that point, I was toast mentally. There was no way I was going to re-engage.

So for those of you keeping count, of 2 and a half hours of yoga classes so far, I've fully attended and been present for 45 minutes. I have my doubts that I will get through a full class this week, and I'm signed up every day through Saturday. If I don't, that will tell me a lot about my ability to be present and to be able to problem-solve, both of which have not been my strong suit lately. What it also tells me is that I need more undisturbed alone time to do something just for myself, because as of right now I have none. It's nobody's fault, it's just how it is.

So, I'm going back through my reservations and I'm changing the ones I can to in-person and I'm going to physically go to the class and get myself out of this house. Also, fun fact: It will be like the second time I've left my house all week. That very much needs to change, so maybe this is also the way that will happen.

Time to go shake it off.

Resorting to Grad School Tactics

Friends, I got myself a Kitchenaid mixer this weekend. I had given my old one to my mom, and definitely not wanting to take it back (she needs to make her magical cupcakes even if I can't eat them!), I just decided to bite the bullet and get one, especially since I had gift cards and it'd be super cheap (like half the price) and exactly what I wanted. (This is related, I promise.)

Perhaps also, it's no surprise that I've been feeling overwhelmed lately. Like, verge of tears all yesterday and giving myself some time to eventually just cry it all out for a little while kind of overwhelmed. It's a new semester, Rob is about to go back to school, my caseload has ramped up again, we have a new puppy, and Miles is really starting to show his age (although he has more stamina than the puppy, so maybe not?). He broke a tooth, which is going to result in some surgery within the next week or two to be sure, which I'm already afraid of because he's nine and I'm not sure how he'll tolerate it, so, I'm just stressing about it.  Plus I have the second half of my EMDR training coming up in two weeks, and I'm just...tired.

Since the semester has started, teaching-wise, I'm finding myself setting goals around being as communicative as possible with my students because I've fallen short in previous semesters and I really want to be better about it. I also want to get my grading done in as timely a manner as possible. I know that everyone is overwhelmed and as a result (at least in the program that I'm teaching), more understanding, which is a blessing because I know that not everyone is that way. I know that I'm harder on myself than any of my students would even think of being, but still. I want to be better about it.

That being said, I had this shiny new mixer and I have also set the personal goal for myself to master gluten-free vegan bread and desserts by the end of 2020. If I can do that, I can be gluten-free forever (which is good, because I kind of have to be). I really, really want to bake some bread. I also have grading to do, which I don't want to do, because I want to bake bread.

So, when I was in grad school, if there was an assignment I really didn't want to do, I would give myself some motivation to do it by giving myself a prize at the end. For a while, it was candy. For a while, it was hanging out with friends, or going to get myself something nice. This is what it was, mostly. Candy was just a nice stepping stone, as it always is. I also did this at the end of each term - just for getting through it, I'd get myself a balboa sub and a beer at my favorite local restaurant. Sometimes I'd go out by myself, sometimes with others, but it was a four-times-a-year tradition where I was like "all I have to do is get through it. By just reaching the end, I'll get it, no matter how the semester turns out." Then if I got the grades I wanted, I'd get myself something extra, but I needed a proverbial carrot. I tried managing myself with the proverbial stick for a really long time and all that ended up in was me barely graduating college and being so much worse for the wear than I could have been. That rigidity and being so hard on myself is also what kept me in a major that I shouldn't have been in and barreling forward in a career that I knew deep down I didn't want, and it's not lost on me that I could be 9 years younger right now career-wise if I'd just gotten my shit together and majored in psychology like I actually wanted to. Beating myself up was not getting me anywhere, and I made the intentional choice to do it differently in grad school. It paid off in spades because I learned a much more valuable lesson - one of self-compassion. If I couldn't sit down and write that paper today, that's ok, but no carrot. I would get the carrot when it's done, no matter when that happens.

I lost sight of this tactic when I started teaching - it just didn't stick for some reason. So, I resorted back to the stick method as a teacher and as a counselor, and it wasn't getting me anywhere but closer to burnout and farther away from the motivation that I needed. When COVID hit, I was so rigid with myself because I wanted to have as much stability as I could for my students and my clients, and if I couldn't do that, I was failing, even though it was a really hard situation for me too. I just wouldn't (not couldn't - I'm fully aware of how willful this was and still is) acknowledge my own hardship.

This has been a really hard summer. Probably one of my hardest overall. What I love about fall is that it's this chance for all of that to fade away in order to clear the way to start anew. It's my favorite time of year, and I can't wait for the things that I learn along the way as I cultivate these renewed habits.

Also hanging out with these two adorable and sweet buddies won't be so bad either. :)

Such a Thing as Too Much Resiliency?

It's an interesting question, I think. At what point does resiliency turn to just flat out ignoring your feelings about what's going on? There's definitely a line there and I know that for me, I don't even know that I've crossed it when it has happened. But, once I realize I've crossed it, it's MUCH harder to get back into that adaptive mindset and allow myself to grieve appropriately about the change.

The long and short of it is that I've been doing that with this diet change for the past year and a half. When drastic things like that happen to me, and they have a couple of times, I just look at what's next. I don't give myself time to process that it sucks. Another time that I did this was when I broke my arm. I didn't allow myself any time whatsoever to figure out how I could handle it emotionally. I did the same thing when I was diagnosed with Hashimoto's. In fact, I remember when I broke my arm, one of my friends was like "wow. You just bounced back as if nothing happened. You are so resilient!" NOPE. I JUST IGNORED MY FEELINGS. I was stressed about the damn snow for the rest of that winter and even if there are a couple of flakes on the ground even now, on go the winter walkers. BUT I'M FINE. REALLY FINE.

I think this is coming up for me now because I've felt a big dip in my motivation to continue with these diet changes. They're necessary and they're permanent, and I've been in denial of this fact the whole time. I've also had some really bad reactions to stuff I've eaten over the past month or so (both expected and not - there are times where I've consciously eaten something to which I know I'll have a bad reaction just to keep others from feeling uncomfortable), which impacts my mental health anyway, which was already in a more tenuous space than I was allowing for in the first place. But, when I feel a dip in that motivation, the core feeling is what does it matter? It's not like this is permanent. Also, whenever I'm trying to intentionally trying to make a big shift, that thought of what does it matter? (insert something to challenge the healthy and adaptive desire or behavior or thought juuuuuust enough to keep me from making the change I want to make) I've been teetering on feeling the tidal wave of grief that comes with changes this drastic. And it all started in therapy this morning when I was talking about how I just want to be able to make a cake from a mix and that I'm POed that I can't and I JUST WANT TO EAT CAKE AND WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE THIS BIG DAMN THING AND WHY DO I HAVE TO GO SPEND A JILLION DOLLARS ON GLUTEN FREE FLOUR AND EGG SUBSTITUTE. (Literally. Like, my therapist touched on it VERY lightly for her style and I just...burst into tears and all of these gross feelings started coming out. Gross. I'm super mature about my own feelings. I can tolerate others' feelings until the cows come home, but mine? NOPE.)

I have celiac disease. These diet changes are permanent. These are facts. I am intolerant to eggs and several other foods, including cane sugar, and I simply shouldn't and can't eat them and expect to have no reaction. Also facts. The change also happened literally overnight even though I knew somewhere deep down that it was coming. The softer stuff, like I can't really eat breakfast out at a restaurant anymore, I have to spend a large amount of time looking up stuff that I can eat before we ever go out to a restaurant, and I feel anxious about cross-contamination whenever I DO go out to a restaurant, and that all of these things are now my reality are also facts, but ones that I've outright refused to look at without the lens of denial in front of all of the rest of it, among other stuff. Have I gotten frustrated at times? Yes. I believe those were the denial shattering for even a tiny fraction of time, but I still wouldn't look at the grief that was beneath it even in those times.

It's this weird paradox, isn't it? I've accepted reality so hard core that it has kept me from fully accepting the reality of my health situation. The first step in this is, for me, acknowledging that all of these changes happened so quickly, and that it was JARRING. I think what happened was that I was knocked squarely out of my reality and the denial has only served to make me think (falsely) that the answer is to do my damndest to claw my way back into it instead of allowing myself the space to make a new reality in the face of all of this new information, grief included, which is what needs to happen. While my health is certainly better than it was a year and a half ago without a doubt, I also know that I still have a long way to go. Generally, I'm told, once a person has celiac and other food intolerances, it takes 2-3 years for their gut to fully heal and to fully shut down the inflammatory response, and that's when they do everything right to the letter every single day. Which I don't because I'm in denial about it. But let me tell you, the last month has been TELLING. I have been MISBEHAVING PROFUSELY diet-wise and gained about 49 pounds (not really, but it feels like it) and felt as badly as I did when I started this diet consistently for 30 days. The Glass of Denial, she is shattered. I'd like to blame it on turning 40 instead of my irresponsibility, but I know for a fact that's not true, because I've only been 40 for four days. And, it's not like a frigging switch flipped at 2:30pm on July 12. That's not how it works.

So, here's the other thing. In EMDR training, we have consult sessions once every three weeks or so. I had it right after my therapy session today and THANK GOODNESS it's over the phone because I was a little bit of a mess BUT GUESS WHAT HE SAID THAT STRUCK ME SO HARD IT ALMOST KNOCKED ME OUT OF MY CHAIR. He talked about Resensitization instead of Desensitization, and that sometimes that happens. Sometimes we shut ourselves off emotionally to something so drastically that the function of EMDR is actually to get us to feel it. (And of course, that's been what has happened to me because the case he was talking about was mine - I've been letting a colleague with no clients practice on me and that's what has been coming out - I've been annoyed severely by certain things and haven't been able to make sense of it, and he just connected the two dots this afternoon - thanks EMDR consultant!)

Sigh. It's all part of the journey - I know - but sometimes it's a struggle. The best thing I can do is keep swimming, even when it gets difficult and know that I'll reach acceptance of things at some point, even if that point is Most Definitely Not Right Now.

Six Weeks.

Six weeks was what it took for me to go abruptly off the deep end. HARD.

I had been trucking along. I was doing telehealth, I was teaching online, and though it was hard, I was getting through it.

Then the last two-week stretch of the semester started.

Grading papers between seeing clients.

A lot of time at my computer on days where it was beautiful outside and noticing myself starting to feel resentful.

More time at my computer.

I'm not sure where the switch flipped, but Monday morning I woke up with a splitting headache. I was looking at a 10-client day, and I thought to myself that I couldn't do it. But I got up, showered, threw in some laundry, started the dishwasher, flossed very carefully, actively avoided coming upstairs, but when I did, I went about my day and I saw those ten clients.

Then it happened again Tuesday morning. I was looking at 10 hours in front of a computer again. I had the same routine as the day before, doing all I could to put it off. Wednesday, more of the same.

I'm not sure where the tipping point came where I said to myself that I couldn't do another day of this. Maybe it was an email from a student that made me lose my patience. Maybe it was a meeting or two running over because I said I had to go and that was the point at which people started asking a million questions. Maybe it was those referrals coming in that I know I can't take. Maybe it was the sheer number of no-shows that I had on Thursday and I was annoyed. I don't know.

But I shut off my computer on Thursday night after my last session was done and said to myself quietly that I was going to cancel my appointments on Friday and take the day off. I didn't quite mean it at that point, but when I woke up on Friday morning, I sure as hell did. I was near tears at the idea of spending another full day in front of a computer, of spending half the day grading and then the other half seeing clients. I just did not have it in me. I had lost the mental space to do any of it. It was like I was painting a floor and all of a sudden I had one tiny spot that I could stand on left.

I have tried everything I could to take care of myself over the past six weeks. I've kept up with my diet. I've put myself on an information diet because I just can't take the news right now. I've started crocheting a new blanket. I've kept our house (mostly) clean. I've made time to enjoy myself and really significantly reduced screen time whenever I can (which is not a lot lately). I've also tried everything I could to take care of others over the past six weeks. I was officially out of juice. My cup was emptier than it had been for a long, long time.

I cancelled all of my Friday clients without guilt, and then I sat on my couch, crocheted, and watched TV all day. I also left the house to run a few errands for the first time in almost a week. I ate pizza with ham on it and I loved it, and found gluten free crust in manchester that was not hot garbage. Then, the headache that had been nagging me all week was suddenly gone when I got up yesterday. I was set to grade all day yesterday, and I got a few papers in, and then I put that away too. I was in no mental space whatsoever to do all of the work before me. I'm still not sure if I'm able to do that, but I'm going to do a few and keep trying and if I can't, I'll make the conscious choice to take a break.

I've realized that what I need to do for myself at this time is have patience with myself. If I can't have it for myself, then I definitely can't have it for anyone else. Also, if I can, then that patience will tell me that it's ok to take a few minutes to get my head on straight. It's ok that I don't have full 60-minute sessions with my clients because that's a really long time to sit in front of a computer, for both of us. It's ok to spread out my schedule a little bit more to give myself some breaks in the day. It's ok to not take those referrals and start that waiting list. It's all ok.

I'd been giving my patience, so much of my patience, away to others. It's ok that you missed that appointment. Of course it's hard to tell what day it is. Of course if you need to miss class it's ok. I had been turning a grand total of none of it inward.

What this sixth week has taught me is that I need some too. It's ok for me to make changes to my schedule. It's ok for me to take a vacation the week after the semester ends (which I am 1000% doing.). It's ok to take a few minutes and unpack that box. It's ok to plan paint colors for my kitchen and living room instead of grading that paper or writing that note. Get out of your house, if only for a few minutes. That's ok too. When your husband is outside working and wants you to take a break for a few minutes so he can show you what's under the concrete slab in your back yard that you hate, it's ok to go outside and check it out and be overjoyed for a few minutes that it's actually dirt under there and you CAN make yourselves a backyard because of it. All of it is ok. Every bit.

We're finally starting to set down our roots in this house, and I am loving that. But, I haven't been able to pay as much attention to it as I want. I've been hard on myself as a result, and it's time to let that shit go. We're going to be here a really long time, so I have time. I don't have to keep this train running all the time. I can slow down, but it absolutely, 100% has to be an active choice. I haven't been making the active choice, and it has cost me a lot over the past few weeks. I haven't backslid in my burnout recovery, but I have seen new burnout start to emerge, and I'm not liking what I'm seeing, so it's time to do something different. The good thing is that I have so much time at home now and in some ways I'm doing so much better with my anxiety that I can recognize it before it becomes a huge problem and force myself to stop. I'm listening to that internal feedback so much more now than I used to - it tells me a lot, and I'm finally paying attention. I think the important part is that I'm also negotiating with it less. There's no "ok, but seriously, could I work Friday and then take the rest of the weekend off and not grade or do anything, even though that will cause more stress later and I probably won't do that either?" My body tells me that I need a break and I take it. It's actually pretty straightforward when you get into the practice of it. :)

And, I did not burst into flames. It's amazing how much I thought I would spontaneously combust from doing something different, and none of it has happened. Miraculous, right?!

Things I've Learned from Nutritarianism

These last seven and a half weeks have been...interesting.

With this major diet change, I've lost an additional 20 pounds, I've hit my 50th pound lost since the beginning of this journey almost a year ago, and found inside myself a level of energy that I legitimately don't think I've ever felt before. Barring Life Shenanigans (of which there have been more than I bargained for, that's for sure), my mental health has been better than ever. I did not handle Life Shenanigans the best most of the time, but I shudder to think about how I would handle it if my mental health were not as good as it is. I literally probably would have holed myself up for several weeks and buried my head in the sand, and I didn't entirely do that.

Can you believe that it's been almost a year since I started down this path? I can't. I look back to a year ago at this time and I'm FLABBERGASTED at the changes that have come about in my life just from making the shift to focus more on my own health and wellness.

One thing is for sure - I will never go back to the way I ate. This is partially because I have medical evidence now that says that I shouldn't, but also, I feel so effing good that I wouldn't want to. I've said in the past that my relationship with food has totally changed, but those times weren't true, I've realized. This time is. I've learned more in the time I've been following the nutritarian diet than I have about myself physically, ever, and I look forward to incorporating these lessons into my everyday diet as I start to reincorporate things. That being said, here are some of those lessons:

1. There is such a thing as too much garlic, at least for me. Some of you will gasp at this, and I did too with this realization. But, if I eat too much garlic (and sometimes even a little bit is too much), my nose runs like a faucet. That's an interesting reaction that I'm not super interested in looking at, but I have to.

2. I might never go back to eating meat full time. I think it's no coincidence that I lost so much weight AND I cut out meat. Might I try to reincorporate it? Of course. But I think I'm going to do so fairly infrequently and instead lean on the stuff I eat now.

3. Even in a pandemic, people won't eat chickpea pasta. I watched someone shove another person out of the way for a box of regular lasagna noodles the other day and it was the most ridiculous thing I've seen since I worked retail. Too bad for them, more for me.

4. I CAN be vegan. Do I want to be? I'm not so sure. But if I have to be, I can.

5. I will have to either drastically reduce or cut out my cheese intake entirely. This one's a bummer, but I've tried a few nondairy options and they're...edible. We'll just leave it at that.

6. Coconut is like...my favorite. Absolute favorite.

7. When you cook red lentil pasta, it smells like weed. It also tastes like it smells. I find this endlessly hilarious and laugh about it every time I eat it. (Side note: is it possible that there might be weed in it? It'd explain the constant laughter about it.)

8. I get sick of food REALLY quickly, but if I rotate staple meals, I won't get sick of them as quickly. Chickpeas and salsa is a big one, as is chickpea pasta with sauteed vegetables. There are also these sweet potato stuffed mushrooms that are the stuff that dreams are made of.

9. Just....coconut.

10. I react badly to Dunkin' Donuts coffee. This was a very interesting realization.

11. Almond milk too. Less interesting because I half expected it.

12. HEMP MILK. 'Nuff said.

13. While there is a thing as too much garlic, there is no such thing whatsoever as too much salsa. I could literally eat it out of the jar. (I may or may not have done that as a meal once or twice or five or six times.)

14. Water sauteeing is a thing that I didn't know about. Also, I have a...we'll call it less than ideal reaction to olive oil. I'm testing it out today to make sure this is what I've been reacting to, so we'll see what happens.

15. My reactions to gluten are much, much worse than they were even two months ago. While most see this as a bad thing (and I certainly did at first), it means also means that my body is doing what it's supposed to. I have celiac - I'm supposed to have a reaction to gluten. That I didn't for so long because my immune system was in such overdrive is nothing short of alarming. (It's also worth noting that even though getting glutened was accidental, I was definitely eating something that I shouldn't have been eating. I kiiiind of had it coming.)

16. COCONUT. CAN'T OVERSTATE THIS ONE.

In other news, Rob and I bought a house! We close in mid-April, and I'm really excited about it. We also sold our condo, and all of this happened within a month of each other. The pressure was on to find a place once we sold our condo, so some feverish home searching and many, many meltdowns when we offered and it got rejected definitely happened. We made offers on 9 houses and they all got rejected before we were finally able to get one accepted. It cuts just shy of 30 miles from my commute every day, and it's in the sweet spot of being close to work but also far enough away for me to not worry about clients seeking out my services in the area that I'm living in.

Now if we can just get through this pandemic and make it so that I don't have to miss work (and thereby can keep getting paid), that'd be greeeeat.

In the meantime, I go back to the doctor on Wednesday to check in. I'm supposed to get blood taken and I'm not quite sure I want to do that at the moment because going into a hospital or a lab unless I really, really have to is not entirely appealing to me at the moment. We shall see what happens.

Detox

“Do you want to do a detox?!” My naturopath asked excitedly in November. 

Before any holidays occurred.

Of course, in my folly and because I was feeling well, I said yes.

I may live to deeply, deeply regret that decision. Or, you know, not.

I had the appointment yesterday where we talked about what it would entail, and I’m going full bore paleo vegan for two months. 

Snort. And I thought we were going to talk about giving reincorporation of eggs and sesame seeds another try at this appointment now that I’ve cut them out for 6 months. NOPE.

Anywho, so here’s the deal.

A pound of raw veggies per day. (Minimum.)

A pound of cooked veggies per day. (Minimum.)

Lots of beans.

2 ounces of nuts or seeds.

4 large pieces of fruit per day. (Minimum.)

No grains, not even rice or corn.

All the white or sweet potato I want. (A relief, in a way, except I can’t slather my potatoes in butter and sour cream.)

No meat, no dairy.

No juice or anything else that contains added sugar.

End of list.

This would be like a vegan person were doing a whole 30. Except I’m not vegan. Like, not even a little.

Oh wait. All the tea and water I can drink. I can drink black coffee too.

The science makes sense. The focus on micronutrients instead of macronutrients makes sense.

The goal is not weight loss, though she told me to expect to lose 20-30 pounds, which will put me exactly in the range I want to be. This diet is one ordinarily given to people who need a reset or to set themselves up for drastic changes to their diet, both of which apply here. There is a lot of good news other than this also:

1. I’ll feel better. The holidays were terrible for me food-wise, and this will give me a much-needed reset. I have felt like shit since about early December, so I’m ready to start feeling good again and get back to being accountable for what I put in my mouth.

2. I’ve fixed my Breakfast Problem. You see, I’m a big breakfast person and have been for a really long time. Then I had to cut out eggs, most dairy, oats, and gluten, all foods that are an integral part of a good breakfast. I don’t want anything to do with chia seeds, and because I shouldn’t be eating all that much sugar, I shouldn’t be eating all that much yogurt either. I’m pretty much limited to one kind: unsweetened coconut. It’s out there, but hard to find. Now I’m doing smoothies again. Fun fact: there is unflavored protein powder (which I called smoothie dust yesterday at the doctor in a moment of aphasia) and if I mix it with frozen fruit and some water, voila! Breakfast! (Along with, according to my doctor, two pieces of fruit.)

3. If I’m hungry between meals, or if I’m extra snacky (which I shouldn’t be at all), I’m not eating enough and I should eat more. This concept is SO foreign to me that I don’t even know where to start. She told me that I can (and should!) literally eat until I’m uncomfortably full at every meal. She also gave me some recipes and told me to double them and take that as a meal.

4. It’s not that far off from the elimination diet that I was on, so I should be ok. It will be a bigger adjustment because I SUPER fell out of habit during the holidays, but I’ll get back there.

Now I have to go find myself a food scale. I start it on Monday.

923 Days

July 13, 2017, my teeth looked like this.

That was 922 days ago, as of right now.

922 days of staring into the snackless abyss.

922 days of my teeth moving in microscopic increments.

922 days of wearing them (mostly) 24/7. (Ok. I was lax when I had aligners for more than two weeks.)

You can’t tell too much, and my teeth weren’t terrible by any means, but I was having MAJOR jaw troubles. Lots of crowding meant my bite couldn’t meet the way it needed to, which was way more painful than I was giving it credit for now that it doesn’t hurt anymore.

Today, my teeth look like this. 

Are they perfect? No. Do I want them to be, necessarily? Not really. I want to be satisfied with them, which I definitely am. Are they amazingly different in every way I thought possible? Yes, and then some.

Tomorrow is day 923. I get fitted with retainers tomorrow after having my current set of aligners for literally months. I’ve had the top aligners since August, and the bottom ones since November. My top teeth have been done for quite some time, and I can understand why my dentist wanted to wait, but it took Invisalign an inordinately long amount of time to get the retainers done.

I got the call today and I go in tomorrow. I am STOKED. I still have to wear them 22 hours a day for now, but I’ll eventually get to move to nighttime wear only and I can’t wait.

What CAN I wait for? My naturopath appointment. It’s tomorrow. My gut is NOT smiles times lately and I got a buttload of blood taken last week that I think ain’t going to come out great. The holidays were tough, and I think it’s just going to take some more time to recover. I literally haven’t felt well in weeks. I’m by no means back where I was, but I’m tired, swollen, and icky.

I agreed to a cleanse in my last appointment, in a moment of absolutely terrible judgment, so we’ll see what that entails.

Stay tuned!