(my dog, who will never be a candidate for adrenal fatigue)
This week some of the past caught up with me. It turns out that wherever you go, there you are, and all of your strengths and weaknesses and neurosis and spiritual tasks are right there as well. I think it's time for a little introspection.
I was thinking about my original goal in this blog :
"I intend to revisit my memories of my recent past in an attempt to knit myself together again and heal the chasm of the last five years so that I can step onto higher ground on the other side. Bring the old me integrated into the new me, pull together the east and the west in my life."
This week I am taking an opportunity to examine where I am at with one of the fairly recently emerged parts of my life that has been the hardest for me to come to terms with. Physical weakness.
For part of this week I felt really, really tired. Tired like my heart is pumping really hard and I am breathing heavy just lifting laundry into the dryer and I am forcing myself, step by step, through an effort of will, to complete simple tasks like cooking lunch and reading an article for my class. In between I flop on the bed and close my eyes. Now, I didn't go out drinking, or do a really intense workout yesterday. I didn't party or overextend myself accomplishing something or take a whirlwind trip or anything that would account for my level of exhaustion. These periodic episodes of extreme fatigue have become part of my life for the last 3 or 4 years, and have had a huge role in shaping it from day to day. My hormones, that wash of intense stop and go signals running through the bloodstream at all times, have just dipped into some unfortunate imbalance. I have a condition called "adrenal fatigue", wherein my adrenal glands and the necessary hormones that they produce are not working up to snuff. Simple, yet disastrous. In my journey with this illness, I am now at the point where what it is and why it came to wield such a heavy hand in directing my life don't really merit much more consideration. I have already spent endless hours lying somewhere feeling crappy and pondering them. I am weary of the incredibly expensive, time consuming, largely unhelpful and sometimes demeaning experiences that I have had with the medical establishment in my quest for answers and help. If information about this illness is of interest to anyone else, and I do totally recommend researching it if you or someone you know could be ill, here are some links that have found to be helpful. You really need to be your own advocate:
http://www.drlam.com/articles/adrenal_fatigue.asp http://www.articleclick.com/Article/Chronic-Fatigue-Syndrome-and-Adrenal-Exhaustion/1009817
Also the book, "The Shwarzbein Principle."
The only part really worth thinking about though for me at this point is how do I live with it and manage it to the best of my abilities. Yesterday I may have been fine. Today I may feel like I got hit by a truck. In a few days I will probably feel fine again. That seems to be how it goes. I do remember though, filling out a form for a doctor's office three years ago this fall, when I was trying to diagnose this strange illness, and estimating that at that point I was spending 30 to 40 percent of my life dealing with extreme exhaustion or some of the other myriad unsavory side effects caused by unruly hormone levels, and I can say now that it is probably less than 5 percent of my life that is affected. I have put an incredible amount of effort and work and sometimes money into recovery, and it has largely paid off as I am usually a normal person now. (At least physically, I know what you all are thinking!) But the experience of being incapacitated, of having to reconsider the assumptions that I had about the strength of my body and the level of my ability, has changed forever the way that I see myself and the way that I live my life.
I used to run. Often and for long distances. Even when it was freezing cold. I was always outside, always up for physical activity and fun. Swimming, hiking, biking, backpacking. In my late teens and early twenties I led back country trail crews, swinging an axe or wielding a cross-cut saw while hiking through the woods. Then in my mid to late twenties I started farming for work and for fun. I would shovel truckload after truckload of manure, turn over large patches of earth with a pitchfork by hand, haul buckets of produce and water in the hot sun and pouring rain and morning mist and evening dusk. I often led crews of other people in this work and I loved every minute of it. It was very hard work but I felt so strong and healthy and alive.
A few years ago my vitality had waned and I started to feel sometimes like there was a grey curtain between myself and the world. I couldn't get motivated for work or much of anything anymore. My body ached, I was often tired, had a headache or felt nauseous, overly emotional or depressed. My heart beat erratically and the simplest tasks could feel dangerously difficult. It was hard to explain this to family, friends and employers and I often didn't even try. I became unreliable with work and social engagements, and my poor family have seen me through some extremely broken down states. All the hard work that I had known previously was nothing compared to learning to be strong and happy and alive in a weak and tired and nauseous body. I am still working on it, and on accepting my body in whatever state it is in every day. I am so far from being good at this.
I have learned a few things though, that I may never have learned otherwise. At first I waited to get better, assuming that this would be pretty quick and easy, because I was so strong and healthy and have never had any real health problems before. I couldn't wait to get back to normal and forget that I had ever felt weak. That was not the future that the fates held for me. Three years later I can barely remember what I used to feel like before the illness, and I have come to accept that what was normal for me never will be again. This illness has been a great teacher for me. I learned to rest. Simple as this sounds, it does not come naturally to me. I learned to not care so much what others think. People have often been disappointed as I, who used to be one of those people who never said "no" and organized everything, broke engagements or didn't follow through with plans or missed meetings or parties. My social world has shrunk, but my family and dearest friends have still been here for me. I also learned the joys of fat and protein! My Dad and husband were pretty jealous when I received a medical recommendation that plenty of Americans probably wish for: eat MORE fat and protein. Bacon here we come. And I learned to ask for help. As well a very difficult one for me, that I am still working on. I thank the universe regularly for my husband, who is a strong, trustworthy and caring person. This would have been so much harder without him. The biggest one though is that I learned a little better how to let go and trust. It was extremely hard to get this illness diagnosed. More than half of what doctors told me or prescribed for me to do just exacerbated my problems. I have improved with the help of a few wise healers, but mostly by listening to my own body, and trusting my own instincts on what will work for me and make me heal. It has often been a question for me as well, while wracked by intense nausea for hours on end, or catching my breath from blindingly terrifying heart palpitations, if I will indeed ever heal? And it is really only trust of the universe and of my own instincts that reassures me that I will completely emerge from this someday, and I will be stronger from it. My fledgling trust has proven correct so far, because as each year goes by I slowly climb toward complete strength and wellness again.
I still wish that this had never happened to me. I still wish that I was one of those people who could remain strong and active and healthy with the strength of a 20 year old into my 30's and 40's. But I don't think about it that much anymore. No one survives the years intact, life takes it's toll on us all. And the gifts of stronger faith and trust and patience, while they are not as fun or flashy as the ability to run 5 miles and barely break a sweat, are probably more useful. I am starting to be able to even feel a little bit grateful.
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