A Bowl Full of Blessing

I am unbelievably hard on myself. I make critical judgments of myself. I take personally the critical judgments of others. I have unrealistic expectations and chastise myself when I fail to live up to them. I also chastise myself when I fail to live up to the expectations of others. Essentially, I tend to lack compassion for myself.

When I got sick in November of 2011, I initially assumed that I’d caught a virus and beat myself up for not washing my hands better since I worked in a room full of toddlers. After a week had passed and I was still ill, I beat myself up for not having kicked the virus yet and cursed my weak immune system. But then two weeks had gone by, and then three, and then four. Some days I woke up feeling perfect and rejoiced that I’d finally won the war with that stupid virus only to discover that the symptoms returned in a day or two (three or four days if I was lucky.) I was fooled by this cycle over and over. 

Two months passed. I made my first doctor appointment. And then the months started stacking up. The doctor bills started stacking up. The number of doctors I was seeing started stacking up. The tests started stacking up. The drugs I tried started stacking up. The only thing that didn't start piling up on me was diagnoses.

I got a mixed bag of responses from people when I talked to them about it:

Lectures: Well it’s probably because you are ___ OR If you didn’t ___...

Suggestions: Have you had your iron levels checked? OR it’s probably your thyroid OR maybe you are pregnant.

Criticisms: You aren’t trying hard enough OR you need to get out more OR you don’t look sick.

Empathy: That really sucks OR I can’t imagine OR I know the feeling.

Skepticism: It’s probably just anxiety OR it’s all in your head OR you don’t look sick.

I knew in my heart that all the comments were coming from a loving and concerned place. People want to help and they care. Yet I felt blame-worthy. The things people were saying were so similar to the things I was saying to myself:

I did this to myself because I make bad decisions.

I'm missing something obvious because I'm stupid.

I don't do enough because I'm lazy.

This totally sucks and so do I.

I am making Mordor out of the Shire because I'm dramatic.

I don’t look sick because I can't even do that right.

Maybe if I ran more I would feel better. Maybe if I took the right supplements or prescriptions I would feel better. Maybe if I stopped picking up little children, stopped stooping over the sewing machine, stopped spending long hours writing, stopped being so negative, I would feel better. Maybe if I detoxified my body, if I detoxified my house, if I decreased my anxiety and stress, if I took dairy, gluten, sugars, alcohol, processed food, etc. out of my diet I would feel better. Maybe if I got out more, maybe if I pushed myself harder, maybe if I wasn't so dramatic, maybe if I could just figure out the right combination of the right changes, I would feel better.

Maybe if I give my symptoms less attention…  I stopped talking about it so much to the small handful of people who knew. It wasn't much of a challenge. Afterall, I don’t look sick. 

Three years will have gone by come November and none of the things I have tried have made a difference toward improving my symptoms. Some of the things I have tried have had the complete opposite effect; they made things worse. Some of the things I have tried, while not improving my symptoms, have improved the way I live with my symptoms. Finding the humor in things is a big one on that list. As is my chiropractor, who not only helps relieve the pains in my neck but also constantly helps me generate new ideas of things to look at and things to try and questions to ask and tests to have. And I know more now than I did three years ago about some of the factors that can worsen my symptoms but I still do not know the cause or solution. I continue to float around in the land of the undiagnosed.

There is so much that is out of my control right now and sometimes I feel so overwhelmed and frustrated by that. I don’t have the energy I once did. I suspect that makes me less fun to be around. I don't worry about that too often though because when I’m symptomatic, getting out more and doing more exacerbates my symptoms, making the rest of the day harder as well as making the next day harder, so I frequently stay in. Everything I do, every movement I make, drains my energy stores in unbelievable ways. I’m hyper conscious of certain things now like how I turn my head and how quickly, how I bend down to pick something up, when I can use scissors or knives or get something hot out of the oven or drive the car and when I should have someone else do those things for me. I weigh everything that needs to get done. Which is more important: Clean clothes for the children or me showing up at their soccer game? Going to the grocery store or having the energy to make dinner for my family later?

It's a bizarre kind of cost versus benefit. 

But I have also discovered there are plenty of things that are within my control: my own expectations of myself and whether or not I meet those, the amount of compassion I give myself, the things I say to myself, my choices, my thoughts and my sense of satisfaction with life. I may not be able to control my symptoms but I can control what I do with this curve ball life has thrown me. I can control how I live with chronic symptoms.

I have learned to adjust daily and be proud of myself for simple things: getting the laundry done, making a dinner that doesn't just consist of raw food on a plate, taking a shower, having a good laugh. If anyone outside saw me on a bad day it would probably look like the most pathetic display of trying they have ever seen. But I am no longer judging myself from the viewpoint of the other. I am living in this body. I have learned my limitations and what is reasonable to expect from myself. And every day I get up and do the best that I can on that day. I’m proud of even the weakest steps I take on the worst of days.

I am planting seeds of self-compassion in the garden of my soul and that makes all the difference.