For nearly four years, I have been exhausted. Extremely fatigued. Lower than low. A figment of how I believe I should be; how I was before Lyme disease. I feel the sluggishness of my form, the all-over aches, my depleted outlook, the tiredness of moving too much added to the tiredness of it all, of living. Part of it is depression; part of it is physical ravage; and part is the fear of never finding my true self again. All of it is due to one chronic health problem that created many chronic health problems.
The transitions I’ve moved through the past few years feel fully represented in my body ─ in the halted sense of joy and in the ache in my heart and joints. My inner undercurrent (the mechanisms that are trying so desperately to help me become whole) seem to have given way to something akin to settling. There’s stagnation that causes me to resent the home that is my body. My natural inclination is that I’m not treating my body in ways that could elevate its value, that could elevate its well-being. This is far from the truth., yet here I am, feeling what I feel.
Whenever I come face to face with my own humanity, the kind no one wants to hear about unless there’s a powerful or positive ending, the kind where the solution is quite obvious to everyone who doesn’t need to actual implement it, the kind we’d rather not talk about until we’re on the other side, until we’ve figured it out and gotten past it, I feel myself wanting to curl up and hide, deal with it on my own until I get past the most recent slump and find my sea legs again.
I find myself not wanting anyone to know what I’m struggling with until I can turn that struggle into medicine for others to consume, until it becomes a learned lesson, as if what I must share only matters if a solution or teaching or proof of overcoming is embedded into it. I find myself embarrassed by how often I think about me, when I would prefer to include others in the thinking. I find myself ruminating about how my body is crumbling. I’m afraid of my body crumbling.
You probably know that trying to walk this walk alone, trying to keep our struggles secret, doesn’t do what we think it will do, assuming we think it will do something. In fact, it does do something: something detrimental. It causes isolation, wonky thoughts, and paralysis. So much about this suggests I am living a bona fide shame-swamp of an existence. Writing this turns the real of it all into a more magnificent REAL. I’m okay with that and in fact, it’s time.
My charge now is to allow myself to feel the tenderness of something within my reach. In a few weeks I will be leaving a professional life I have known for decades (not my coaching business!), after which I will steep in the process of renewal. All the things I already do ─ daily mini-dives into improving my mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual health ─ will pave way to all the same, but instead of simply doing, I will focus on the kind of healing that can only be experienced from being. I will foster a relationship with my body in ways that feel nourishing, like nurturing, like love, rather than avoidance or shame. I will cloak each day with compassion for myself. I will push myself, yes, but I will practice patience, and I will show up the way I believe my body needs me to. I will become an open vessel for the slow and steady. I will be, and eventually my body will become whole again, and greet me like a dear friend on the other side.
If you are interested in reading more about my experience with Lyme disease and the medical interventions sought, please see the blog, My Journey with Lyme, posted in January 2023.
Mary Daniel is a Certified Integrative Nutrition Health Coach dedicated to the pursuit of good health for everyone. Through her business, Your One Precious Life, she partners with clients and communities and in the spirit of collaboration, paves the way for health transformations.
Interested in a free health consultation? Visit: www.youronepreciouslife.com or email mary@youronepreciouslife.com.
Comments