Good news friends ~ my words seem to be back! I’m suddenly filled with them, with the urge to get them out, to put them down, to make them real.
Last week, I crashed. It seems that my loss of words was a symptom of something more. Last Wednesday, I slept. For two hours between classes, for two and a half hours in the early evening, for 11 hours overnight. Thursday, I slept. For quite a few hours during the day, for another 11+ overnight. Friday morning, I slept.
Friday afternoon, I went to the doctor! I’m thankful to have an incredibly trusted, family-friend type for my doctor. I used to babysit his kids, and when I have to make an appointment, he gives me my entire hour. We talk about life, about health. It’s a good thing. He tested me for mono (my fear!), for anemia, for thyroid issues.
And it turns out that I’m “fine”. It always turns out that I’m “fine”.
Except, I’m not fine. Truth be told, I’ve had these crashes before. I’ve waded through days, weeks even, energy-less, in a daze. I’ve had my thyroid tested, my blood cells counted. I’m always “fine”.
More truth: I think, I know, that I’ve taken this “fine-ness” for granted. I made a command decision.
Last year, when I was in complaining of migraine-style headaches, Mike (my doctor) told me that some people, some bodies, are more sensitive to a schedule. To not only being treated well, but being treated the same, on a pretty much regular basis. I heard him. He basically told me the same thing again last Friday. I heard, and listened.
My body has been talking to me for years, screaming at me even, and I’ve been too busy, too self-important, to care. I’ve heard. I’ve thought about change. But now, I’m listening.
I’m ready to try for a more regular sleep schedule. I’m ready to try for a regular amount of exercise. I’m ready to try filling my body regularly with the foods it needs for fuel.
I’m on day two.
I feel as though that “click” has clicked. I’ve thought this way before, and discovered that I was, in fact, so far from clicked. But this time, I feel clicked.
This time, I feel 26. This time, I feel blessed that my body has survived the abuse I’ve put it through with consistent – stubbornly, beautifully consistent – health; health, worlds away from wellness. This time, I see others around me slipping away, and I want to give myself every chance at something different. This time.