Some color has returned to my hair. I didn't even know that could happen, but a lot of the gray has turned blond. How cool is that?
My face appears relaxed rather than strained. People keep telling me I look really good. I've seen pictures of myself, and I actually look alive, so that's great.
The acne is gone. I mean, except for the I-ate-too-much-chocolate part, and, well...I'll take the chocolate, so there.
When I stopped in at my doctor's office to pick up some vitamins, even the receptionist said I was looking really good. And she would know, she saw me at my worst.
Hunneypunkin says it's nice to have me "back".
The number on the bathroom scale keeps dropping. I've lost more than ten pounds since this spring in fact, with no effort on my part.
My house is clean! Or, "ish", you know. It's no Better Homes and Gardens, but I've done some repainting, a lot of scrubbing, and we even shampooed carpets recently. I've rebuilt some of the organizational systems I used to have in place. I know where my stuff is.
The garden was beautiful this summer.
Our canning shelves are filled to overflowing.
There are a couple of almost-finished scrapbooks on my craft tables.
Today is December 1, and all my Christmas decorations are out. Adrenal fatigue is something you can recover from, and this is what recovery looks like.
Monday, December 1, 2014
Friday, September 12, 2014
Thinking of Robin Williams
I don't believe for a second that he wore a mask. Many of my personal acquaintances who have experienced depression themselves are also some of the funniest people I know. Is that because they are using humor to hide their sadness? I don't think so. Is it so farfetched to believe that some people make conscious choices to deliver happiness to the people around them whether they themselves feel it or not? Is it possible that's what Robin Williams did?
"I never knew you suffered from depression!" Do we expect people who do experience depression to mope about and chronically complain? If they did, would we be able to listen and be supportive, and refrain from advising them to just buck up? Would we have more to offer than empty words? Are we equipped with resources to help?
Depression is one of the symptoms, a side effect, of adrenal fatigue, so I'm not unfamiliar with it. No, I haven't talked much about experiencing depression. It was enough that I had no choice but to endure it. But I did have the power to make a decision to not give it any air time. Sometimes I felt like that was the only power I had, and you can bet I used it. (Does that mean every time I laugh or joke, I'm hurting on the inside? No. I just see humor in a lot of things and I share it. Sometimes my humor is even able to encourage someone else who is enduring depression.)
Maybe we should assume that everyone around us is going through or has gone through depression or some other form of pain, whether physical or emotional. Or both. Perhaps, instead of accusing people of trying to hide it, we could applaud them for surviving. Rather than feeling that someone didn't trust us enough to reveal their pain, we might acknowledge that we just didn't see it, and forgive ourselves for that.
I'm pretty sure God gave us each two ears and one mouth because we should learn to listen twice as much as we talk. We tell people that our door is always open, that we're here for them. But when they try to talk with us, are we really listening with the intent to really hear? Or, as Stephen R. Covey says, are we listening with the intent to reply?
Thanks to Robin Williams, for making us laugh even though he didn't always feel like it. We loved him. We miss him.
You are loved, too. You're not alone.
"I never knew you suffered from depression!" Do we expect people who do experience depression to mope about and chronically complain? If they did, would we be able to listen and be supportive, and refrain from advising them to just buck up? Would we have more to offer than empty words? Are we equipped with resources to help?
Depression is one of the symptoms, a side effect, of adrenal fatigue, so I'm not unfamiliar with it. No, I haven't talked much about experiencing depression. It was enough that I had no choice but to endure it. But I did have the power to make a decision to not give it any air time. Sometimes I felt like that was the only power I had, and you can bet I used it. (Does that mean every time I laugh or joke, I'm hurting on the inside? No. I just see humor in a lot of things and I share it. Sometimes my humor is even able to encourage someone else who is enduring depression.)
Maybe we should assume that everyone around us is going through or has gone through depression or some other form of pain, whether physical or emotional. Or both. Perhaps, instead of accusing people of trying to hide it, we could applaud them for surviving. Rather than feeling that someone didn't trust us enough to reveal their pain, we might acknowledge that we just didn't see it, and forgive ourselves for that.
I'm pretty sure God gave us each two ears and one mouth because we should learn to listen twice as much as we talk. We tell people that our door is always open, that we're here for them. But when they try to talk with us, are we really listening with the intent to really hear? Or, as Stephen R. Covey says, are we listening with the intent to reply?
Thanks to Robin Williams, for making us laugh even though he didn't always feel like it. We loved him. We miss him.
You are loved, too. You're not alone.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Detox
Possibly the most important step in recovering from adrenal fatigue, ironically one that also probably requires the most energy, is enforcing boundaries.
One acquaintance told me, after hearing I'd been diagnosed with adrenal exhaustion, "You'll get really good at saying 'no'." However, saying no for me was not so much the problem as dealing with the backlash when I dared to use the word. (Also ironic was the fact that this particular acquaintance was one who had been most vindictive when I failed to meet her expectations.)
Too many people want to believe they are so special to you that boundaries are not required. Unfortunately that's opposite of the truth. In a healthy relationship, both parties understand and respect the boundaries as well as the need for them. It is increasingly obvious to me not only that those who habitually violate boundaries are unhealthy people, but that they tend to pour toxicity into their relationships. If I want to be healthy, it stands to reason that toxic relationships have to go.
To protect myself and my family I have shed many toxic relationships in recent years. It gets easier as I go along. Interestingly enough, I don't miss the toxic individuals, but they continue to pursue relationships with me. I hope those people will one day become healthy themselves. If/when that happens, I will still be here. So will my boundaries:
I do what I can, don't expect more or less.
I give you the benefit of the doubt; please return the favor.
Call first.
Be honest.
Learn that honesty and rudeness are not the same thing.
Be positive.
A beautiful side effect of weeding toxic relationships out of my life, is having more room for the nurturing kind. I feel better spending less time with negativity, which makes time for positive relationships, which makes me feel even better. It's like compound interest.
Here's a fascinating tidbit: rarely do I ever need to say no anymore. The people around me are giving, not taking. Now I get the chance to offer what I can when I can. And guess what? The little I have to offer is received with much more gratitude than anything I ever gave because I was asked.
One acquaintance told me, after hearing I'd been diagnosed with adrenal exhaustion, "You'll get really good at saying 'no'." However, saying no for me was not so much the problem as dealing with the backlash when I dared to use the word. (Also ironic was the fact that this particular acquaintance was one who had been most vindictive when I failed to meet her expectations.)
Too many people want to believe they are so special to you that boundaries are not required. Unfortunately that's opposite of the truth. In a healthy relationship, both parties understand and respect the boundaries as well as the need for them. It is increasingly obvious to me not only that those who habitually violate boundaries are unhealthy people, but that they tend to pour toxicity into their relationships. If I want to be healthy, it stands to reason that toxic relationships have to go.
To protect myself and my family I have shed many toxic relationships in recent years. It gets easier as I go along. Interestingly enough, I don't miss the toxic individuals, but they continue to pursue relationships with me. I hope those people will one day become healthy themselves. If/when that happens, I will still be here. So will my boundaries:
I do what I can, don't expect more or less.
I give you the benefit of the doubt; please return the favor.
Call first.
Be honest.
Learn that honesty and rudeness are not the same thing.
Be positive.
A beautiful side effect of weeding toxic relationships out of my life, is having more room for the nurturing kind. I feel better spending less time with negativity, which makes time for positive relationships, which makes me feel even better. It's like compound interest.
Here's a fascinating tidbit: rarely do I ever need to say no anymore. The people around me are giving, not taking. Now I get the chance to offer what I can when I can. And guess what? The little I have to offer is received with much more gratitude than anything I ever gave because I was asked.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Wicked Sweats
Not necessarily the worst symptom, but definitely a prominent problem I experienced from adrenal fatigue was wicked sweats. I was always cold, but always sweating, which naturally made me more cold, and also resulted in my deodorant only lasting a couple of hours into the day.
I could, and often did, carry deodorant in my purse. Unfortunately neck, back, and shoulder pain are a common part of adrenal fatigue, and a heavy purse doesn't help that at all. I even had a bag of extra clothes that I carried in the trunk of the car for a few years in case I needed to change my shirt when I was away from home.
Almost every morning I would get out of the shower, dry off, get dressed, and immediately feel like I needed to dry off again. It's awfully uncomfortable to go through the day with a soggy brassiere, but that's what would happen. It was of course bad in the summer when it was hot out, but it wasn't much better any other time of year. At least in the summer I had a logical explanation.
On days when I had time, I would wear a bathrobe or sweats for half an hour or so after my shower until the sweating slowed down, and then get dressed. I tried taking cooler showers, but that's pretty miserable for someone who is always cold, and it didn't stop the sweating anyway. When I didn't have time, though, I just had to get dressed and get moving with streams running down me.
The problem wasn't quite as bad when I was a teenager, because in the 80's and 90's we wore skinny jeans and big baggy t-shirts. Now we wear fitted tops, which are cuter but don't have a lot of breathing room under the arms.
I am happy to say I no longer suffer wicked sweats except when I get sick, which is rare now. Seriously, people, if you have symptoms of adrenal fatigue, get help. It's out there. http://www.adrenalfatigue.org/
I could, and often did, carry deodorant in my purse. Unfortunately neck, back, and shoulder pain are a common part of adrenal fatigue, and a heavy purse doesn't help that at all. I even had a bag of extra clothes that I carried in the trunk of the car for a few years in case I needed to change my shirt when I was away from home.
Almost every morning I would get out of the shower, dry off, get dressed, and immediately feel like I needed to dry off again. It's awfully uncomfortable to go through the day with a soggy brassiere, but that's what would happen. It was of course bad in the summer when it was hot out, but it wasn't much better any other time of year. At least in the summer I had a logical explanation.
On days when I had time, I would wear a bathrobe or sweats for half an hour or so after my shower until the sweating slowed down, and then get dressed. I tried taking cooler showers, but that's pretty miserable for someone who is always cold, and it didn't stop the sweating anyway. When I didn't have time, though, I just had to get dressed and get moving with streams running down me.
The problem wasn't quite as bad when I was a teenager, because in the 80's and 90's we wore skinny jeans and big baggy t-shirts. Now we wear fitted tops, which are cuter but don't have a lot of breathing room under the arms.
I am happy to say I no longer suffer wicked sweats except when I get sick, which is rare now. Seriously, people, if you have symptoms of adrenal fatigue, get help. It's out there. http://www.adrenalfatigue.org/
Saturday, August 3, 2013
Feeling "Better" and What Comes Next
For months I've dreaded the well-intended question, "Are you feeling better?" How do I answer that? Better than what? I've had migraines, tension headaches, sinus infections, abdominal cramps, muscle spasms, burning joints, back, neck, and shoulder pain, extreme fatigue, nausea, dizziness, chills, sweats, heart palpitations, difficulty breathing, and insomnia for years on end, and any time even one of those symptoms faded the littlest bit I felt "better", but that didn't mean I felt good.
Finally, eighteen months after the initial diagnosis of adrenal exhaustion, this week, I can answer the question. Yes! Yes, I feel better. I've felt better the past week and a half than I have for at least six years. I still can't get up the instant I wake up in the mornings like I did a long, long time ago, and I still have to pace myself and take frequent breaks throughout the day, but I no longer have to sleep several times a day. I can take clean laundry out of the dryer, fold it, and put it away without getting winded. My yard and garden, though still a work in progress, look better than they have in the twelve years we've lived here. I remembered to deliver a verbal message from my grandma to my uncle when I saw him the next day. You can laugh, but seriously, that has not been normal for me. I still have some discomfort, but my heart and lungs are keeping up with me, the headaches are rare, the sinus infections are over, and the pain has lessened.
So now that I feel better, I can live a normal life, right? No. There's still a long road ahead. There are stacks of papers to sort and file, long-neglected corners to scrub, walls that need painting, past-due bills to pay, and so many, many things I should have done a long time ago but couldn't. I have years of photos to print and scrapbook, and that is one of my most difficult tasks, because I remember how horrible I felt at the time they were taken. It was so, so hard to live in that much loneliness and desperation in the middle of such a beautiful life.
Finally, eighteen months after the initial diagnosis of adrenal exhaustion, this week, I can answer the question. Yes! Yes, I feel better. I've felt better the past week and a half than I have for at least six years. I still can't get up the instant I wake up in the mornings like I did a long, long time ago, and I still have to pace myself and take frequent breaks throughout the day, but I no longer have to sleep several times a day. I can take clean laundry out of the dryer, fold it, and put it away without getting winded. My yard and garden, though still a work in progress, look better than they have in the twelve years we've lived here. I remembered to deliver a verbal message from my grandma to my uncle when I saw him the next day. You can laugh, but seriously, that has not been normal for me. I still have some discomfort, but my heart and lungs are keeping up with me, the headaches are rare, the sinus infections are over, and the pain has lessened.
So now that I feel better, I can live a normal life, right? No. There's still a long road ahead. There are stacks of papers to sort and file, long-neglected corners to scrub, walls that need painting, past-due bills to pay, and so many, many things I should have done a long time ago but couldn't. I have years of photos to print and scrapbook, and that is one of my most difficult tasks, because I remember how horrible I felt at the time they were taken. It was so, so hard to live in that much loneliness and desperation in the middle of such a beautiful life.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
What I Need
Understanding.
I feel cared for when someone researches adrenal fatigue to try to understand my situation. I want people to know it's not just feeling tired (it's feeling completely drained!), it's also insomnia, narcolepsy, muscle pain, joint trouble, new allergies, hypoglycemia, indigestion, and grief for time I keep losing, and that's just the beginning. Frustration that I can't do more or be more. I don't want to be pitied, just understood.
Trust.
When I don't show up, it isn't because I don't care, or I'm not trying hard enough. I'm not drifting away. I'm not going to drift away. Remember what you know about me: Have I ever drifted away? Haven't I always done my best? Have I ever dropped the ball in a major way? I do what I can. Trust me to keep doing what I can, and even though it doesn't look like much to you now, it's my best.
Rest.
If I make a trip to town today, I may not be able to make a trip to town tomorrow. If I have a heavy workload at home, I'm unlikely to be much help elsewhere, at least for a while. What looks like laziness, is recovery time.
Inclusion.
It's really nice when someone fills me in on the details or texts me the highlights or emails me the announcements I missed. It feels great to be invited even when you doubt I'll be able to make it, and to be able to decline and know I'll be missed but not judged...even if it's over and over again.
Time.
This isn't a "disease" I recently contracted. It has been a lifelong struggle for which I have only recently received diagnosis and ongoing treatment. There has been physical and emotional damage that can heal with the right tools in the right environment. There isn't a pill that can fix it. Be patient with me. I have to be patient with me too, and if I can do it, you can do it. I've come a long way already, and I still have a long way to go.
Benefit of the Doubt.
I hear often that people are concerned about me, but only through the grapevine. That feels demeaning to me. If you worry about me, stop it. My closest friends aren't worried about me. That's because they talk to me. They stop by. They call. They text. They email. We hang out or work together when we can. They know what's happening in my life. There are a dozen ways to reach me. Use one.
Humor.
Laughter is medicine. When I lost my job, my friend Ruth gave me a card full of work-related cartoons. It made everything bearable! Laugh with me, tell me a (clean) joke, share your most-embarrassing moments, lighten up with me.
Family.
My husband and sons and daughters are in this with me. They're supporting me and picking up the slack. I can't share them with you as often as you like. We're not living a normal life right now, but we are trying to keep things as routine as possible. Give my husband some room! He's working early mornings and long, hot weeks and trying to keep things running on the homestead and still maintain friendships and help others as much as he can. My family needs the same things I need. Be the one to offer them.
I feel cared for when someone researches adrenal fatigue to try to understand my situation. I want people to know it's not just feeling tired (it's feeling completely drained!), it's also insomnia, narcolepsy, muscle pain, joint trouble, new allergies, hypoglycemia, indigestion, and grief for time I keep losing, and that's just the beginning. Frustration that I can't do more or be more. I don't want to be pitied, just understood.
Trust.
When I don't show up, it isn't because I don't care, or I'm not trying hard enough. I'm not drifting away. I'm not going to drift away. Remember what you know about me: Have I ever drifted away? Haven't I always done my best? Have I ever dropped the ball in a major way? I do what I can. Trust me to keep doing what I can, and even though it doesn't look like much to you now, it's my best.
Rest.
If I make a trip to town today, I may not be able to make a trip to town tomorrow. If I have a heavy workload at home, I'm unlikely to be much help elsewhere, at least for a while. What looks like laziness, is recovery time.
Inclusion.
It's really nice when someone fills me in on the details or texts me the highlights or emails me the announcements I missed. It feels great to be invited even when you doubt I'll be able to make it, and to be able to decline and know I'll be missed but not judged...even if it's over and over again.
Time.
This isn't a "disease" I recently contracted. It has been a lifelong struggle for which I have only recently received diagnosis and ongoing treatment. There has been physical and emotional damage that can heal with the right tools in the right environment. There isn't a pill that can fix it. Be patient with me. I have to be patient with me too, and if I can do it, you can do it. I've come a long way already, and I still have a long way to go.
Benefit of the Doubt.
I hear often that people are concerned about me, but only through the grapevine. That feels demeaning to me. If you worry about me, stop it. My closest friends aren't worried about me. That's because they talk to me. They stop by. They call. They text. They email. We hang out or work together when we can. They know what's happening in my life. There are a dozen ways to reach me. Use one.
Humor.
Laughter is medicine. When I lost my job, my friend Ruth gave me a card full of work-related cartoons. It made everything bearable! Laugh with me, tell me a (clean) joke, share your most-embarrassing moments, lighten up with me.
Family.
My husband and sons and daughters are in this with me. They're supporting me and picking up the slack. I can't share them with you as often as you like. We're not living a normal life right now, but we are trying to keep things as routine as possible. Give my husband some room! He's working early mornings and long, hot weeks and trying to keep things running on the homestead and still maintain friendships and help others as much as he can. My family needs the same things I need. Be the one to offer them.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Pneumonia Continued
A few days after I thought I had recovered from pneumonia, things went downhill again. Fatigue, light-headedness, nausea, merciless cough, chest congestion. My husband came home from work early to take me to my naturopath. Why didn't the pharmaceutical doctor's antibiotics kick this thing completely?
I was sent home with a lung tonic, megadoses of vitamin C, advice for my husband to administer cup percussion on my upper back, instructions for a wet sheet wrap, and orders to avoid dairy, sugar, citrus, and peanut products. After the first sheet wrap, I could actually feel my body healing itself. Within days I was back on my feet, albeit for only short periods of time.
The cough hung on for weeks. I got to spend a couple of solid hours with it every morning. By the way, an hour or two of nonstop coughing leaves a person feeling wiped out.
At this point, four and a half weeks after pneumonia day 1, I have a residual cough but am feeling almost "normal". I think if I hadn't crushed my left index finger on April 1 and had a huge cavity in one of my left molars, I would have recovered much more quickly from pneumonia, or maybe even avoided it altogether. There is only so much the body can do by way of recovery all at once. (Yes, there is evidence that with the right tools your body can, at least to some extent, repair a dental cavity.)
I did have my tooth filled this week, my crushed finger is still healing, and I'm continuing to take megadoses of vitamin C.
I was sent home with a lung tonic, megadoses of vitamin C, advice for my husband to administer cup percussion on my upper back, instructions for a wet sheet wrap, and orders to avoid dairy, sugar, citrus, and peanut products. After the first sheet wrap, I could actually feel my body healing itself. Within days I was back on my feet, albeit for only short periods of time.
The cough hung on for weeks. I got to spend a couple of solid hours with it every morning. By the way, an hour or two of nonstop coughing leaves a person feeling wiped out.
At this point, four and a half weeks after pneumonia day 1, I have a residual cough but am feeling almost "normal". I think if I hadn't crushed my left index finger on April 1 and had a huge cavity in one of my left molars, I would have recovered much more quickly from pneumonia, or maybe even avoided it altogether. There is only so much the body can do by way of recovery all at once. (Yes, there is evidence that with the right tools your body can, at least to some extent, repair a dental cavity.)
I did have my tooth filled this week, my crushed finger is still healing, and I'm continuing to take megadoses of vitamin C.
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