[this was written on March 21 and posted on my other blog, www.snatchlings.blogspot.com]
I have a rare opportunity. To be a voice for the sick. Because suddenly I am one, and I want someone to tell my friends for me...
That it has nothing to do with them when I'm irritable and impatient. It's the sickness talking. Or, all my energy is required just to sit up or walk or keep pecking away at my computer til 5:00 and I can crash on my couch, having made it through another day, and I don't have anything left for being nice. Or, I'm actually irritable and impatient with the monster inside that's sucking the life out of me, but somehow it gets taken out on those around me. Or, my world has shrunk so small to how I'm feeling right now and how to take care of myself, that I can't help but be petty.
That I really do feel bad most of the time. When you have the flu, you can't remember what it feels like to have the strength and joy to run around and play outside. When you get better, you can't remember how you felt when you were sick. To understand me, consider that I have the flu all the time, and try to remember what it felt like. You could barely walk from your bed to the bathroom, and all you wanted was to get better (and your mommy).
That sometimes I want someone to ask how I'm feeling, and sometimes I want to be left alone. And I'm sorry if you tried doing one when I wanted the other.
That I hate it that I can't be myself. I'm just sick enough to have lost my vivacity, but not enough not to be painfully aware of its loss. I know you miss me, and I miss me too, which makes it even harder. It's like an out of body experience when I see a person on the sidelines, for example, and *I* know that I would reach out to that person and include him in the conversation but I simply don't have the strength to do it. It's a constant letting go. A constant prioritizing, where stretching my strength too far now will come back to haunt me later (and everyone else). A constant self-preservation. Constant sacrifice. Constant little deaths. How do I keep from becoming self-consumed?
That "showing up" is a victory for me, and sometimes it's all I can offer. The door to the office, the church, the friends' house is the finish line. On a tough day, anything extra is icing.
That I never know what to say to "how are you?" Do they really want to know how I feel right now? Do I really want to explain it? Will it just be a downer and make me feel worse for being negative? It'll probably be awkward in the end, and force me to put on a happy face to rescue the conversation anyway, so maybe it's easier for everyone if I just keep the happy face on from the start. After all, I am happy, I'm just not "fine."
That despair is always lurking. Around every failure of my body or mind. I'm getting used to depending on other people, something I've never been good at. But only to a point. I've always had little patience with my own limitations, which is what landed me with adrenal fatigue* in the first place. Whereas normal was running at 125 percent, the new normal is 75 percent on a very good day. I've always expected perfection of myself, with a few mistakes allowed here and there, the ones that I can rationalize. Now the quota of mistakes has been bumped much higher as I swallow reality, but it's still a quota and is closely tied to a humble heart which often isn't there. One more mistake, let alone one that affects hundreds of people (our church), and I'm a failure with no hope for recovery. I've let myself fall into that hole a few times, and believe me, it is bottomless. But thankfully, so is grace. And the instant that I fi-na-lly receive a free gift--lunch for my birthday, a bowl of popcorn from my roommate, a parking space from God--I melt. And I'm wisked back up into the sunlight with my feet on solid ground.
That I wish they would take care of themselves and not end up like me.
That I may look fine and healthy on the outside, but inside I feel hollow. Consider me the chocolate Easter bunny. I'm just that weak. There's nothing inside of me to draw from. Whatever makes human's "go" is not getting to the right places in my body. My batteries need to be changed. I'm pushing the gas pedal but there's nothing in the tank, regardless of what the meter says.
--------
If none of this is resonating and you think I'm blowing everything out of proportion, just know that these are the tormentings of the sick. This is what is going on just below the surface, but there aren't words, there isn't time, there isn't energy. Somehow simply writing this and sending it into cyberspace makes me feel so much better. This is the real burden I carry, the festering germies.
If this is discouraging, I'm sorry. I'll write the benefits of illness in the next blog, don't worry. It just really helps me to get this off my chest, and I trust I speak for other fellow sickies in turmoil.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Thursday, April 26, 2007
The Signs of Addy's Arrival
These are the symptoms of adrenal fatigue:
• Extreme and continual tiredness, not relieved by sleep
• Weakness, a feeling of depletion
• Inability to get out of bed in the morning
• Wanting to lie down all the time, which helps, but not really
• Low blood sugar
• Light-headedness, feeling faint
• Low immunity, achiness, feeling slightly sick all the time, sore throat
• Being overwhelmed by small tasks or the thought of walking from here to there (because you don't have the strength to do it)
• Increased effort needed to do everyday tasks; decreased ability to handle stress (even small stresses like the copier not working)
• Irritability, impatience, decreased tolerance
• Discouragement, depression
• Increased PMS
• Decreased productivity and motivation
• Memory loss, fuzzy thoughts, confusion
• Losing your balance while standing
There are some others I didn't experience, like craving salt, decreased sex drive, and increased time to recover from illness or injury.
Looking back, I started to realize something was wrong around the beginning of 2006, but I wouldn't admit it even to myself. I was supposed to be strong and keep the whole world running. By spring however I took the gargantuan step of admitting my tiredness in staff meeting and asked for prayer. I found a general practitioner in May and paid her a visit, and she suggested more snacks to conquer fatigue.
It was getting harder and harder to get out of bed as the year progressed. In July I had a party at my apartment, and Holly and I cleaned all day and entertained that night. For some reason I didn't enjoy myself as much as usual and realized it was because I was so tired. Two days later I had to take a sick day and "recover" from the party. This was odd.
I took August slow. But September hit the ground running jobwise, and as we moved into our office in October, I felt myself switch over to running on adrenaline exclusively. Somehow I got an A in my Spanish class, though I was "mucho muy cansada" to every "como estas?" I was happily dating and that kept me going, but when it ended, so did my high. In December I went to the doctor again (and all my blood tests were normal), started talking to friends and asking for help, and sitting on my couch every weekend night unless I forced myself to go out.
The New Year brought a new low of energy and motivation at work, and a new desperation to find answers and a cure. Gosh, it's a blur now. How did I get through that time? I finally told my boss I needed help, and he graciously let me take my sick leave in the form of two weeks part-time. That was a significant season, but by no means a cure.
In February I started taking Reliv, my "magic potion," which is a nutritional supplement shake, and felt better from day one. Oh how I love that stuff! and highly recommend it to everyone well or sick. It's like gold dust to me. You can read more at www.reliv.com or email me for the address of my distributor friend Joy.
In March my Mom found an alternative doctor in Atlanta who'd written a book called "Are Your Hormones Making You Sick?" which explained the delicate balance in our bodies and how one imbalance affects everything else. I got a phone appointment with him, and voila, all my symptoms pointed to adrenal fatigue, as I'd suspected, through reading books and talking to friends. I took a saliva test (spitting into four vials at four different times during the day...yes, vile, but not as bad as it could have been), the best test for hormone levels and adrenal function. My corisol levels (the stress hormone produced by the adrenal glands) were way low for the morning and the afternoon, and the doctor congratulated me for correctly diagnosing myself while I wimpered over my poor body and little depleted adrenals.
Thank God for alternative doctors, and a free country! He sent me some all-natural supplements that would help my body repair itself, "adrenal rebuilder" and a thyroid booster, and said I'd feel much better in a few weeks, and all better in six months (though it's taken some of my friends much longer to recover). After four weeks, I think the "much better" is starting to happen, although last week I was cryingly telling my boss I didn't know if I could recover in DC and was desperate enough to move home to Atlanta if that's what it took. Thankfully I felt much better the next day (maybe God wanted me to step off the cliff of faith) and then spring arrived in DC...the cure for all ills!
Right now I'm taking life one day at a time, rejoicing in the good days, enduring the bad, submitting to Addy's dominance of my life (and God's dominance over all things), and learning...oh...learning so, so much. So much that begs to be written. Thanks for reading. Thanks for being my outlet.
• Extreme and continual tiredness, not relieved by sleep
• Weakness, a feeling of depletion
• Inability to get out of bed in the morning
• Wanting to lie down all the time, which helps, but not really
• Low blood sugar
• Light-headedness, feeling faint
• Low immunity, achiness, feeling slightly sick all the time, sore throat
• Being overwhelmed by small tasks or the thought of walking from here to there (because you don't have the strength to do it)
• Increased effort needed to do everyday tasks; decreased ability to handle stress (even small stresses like the copier not working)
• Irritability, impatience, decreased tolerance
• Discouragement, depression
• Increased PMS
• Decreased productivity and motivation
• Memory loss, fuzzy thoughts, confusion
• Losing your balance while standing
There are some others I didn't experience, like craving salt, decreased sex drive, and increased time to recover from illness or injury.
Looking back, I started to realize something was wrong around the beginning of 2006, but I wouldn't admit it even to myself. I was supposed to be strong and keep the whole world running. By spring however I took the gargantuan step of admitting my tiredness in staff meeting and asked for prayer. I found a general practitioner in May and paid her a visit, and she suggested more snacks to conquer fatigue.
It was getting harder and harder to get out of bed as the year progressed. In July I had a party at my apartment, and Holly and I cleaned all day and entertained that night. For some reason I didn't enjoy myself as much as usual and realized it was because I was so tired. Two days later I had to take a sick day and "recover" from the party. This was odd.
I took August slow. But September hit the ground running jobwise, and as we moved into our office in October, I felt myself switch over to running on adrenaline exclusively. Somehow I got an A in my Spanish class, though I was "mucho muy cansada" to every "como estas?" I was happily dating and that kept me going, but when it ended, so did my high. In December I went to the doctor again (and all my blood tests were normal), started talking to friends and asking for help, and sitting on my couch every weekend night unless I forced myself to go out.
The New Year brought a new low of energy and motivation at work, and a new desperation to find answers and a cure. Gosh, it's a blur now. How did I get through that time? I finally told my boss I needed help, and he graciously let me take my sick leave in the form of two weeks part-time. That was a significant season, but by no means a cure.
In February I started taking Reliv, my "magic potion," which is a nutritional supplement shake, and felt better from day one. Oh how I love that stuff! and highly recommend it to everyone well or sick. It's like gold dust to me. You can read more at www.reliv.com or email me for the address of my distributor friend Joy.
In March my Mom found an alternative doctor in Atlanta who'd written a book called "Are Your Hormones Making You Sick?" which explained the delicate balance in our bodies and how one imbalance affects everything else. I got a phone appointment with him, and voila, all my symptoms pointed to adrenal fatigue, as I'd suspected, through reading books and talking to friends. I took a saliva test (spitting into four vials at four different times during the day...yes, vile, but not as bad as it could have been), the best test for hormone levels and adrenal function. My corisol levels (the stress hormone produced by the adrenal glands) were way low for the morning and the afternoon, and the doctor congratulated me for correctly diagnosing myself while I wimpered over my poor body and little depleted adrenals.
Thank God for alternative doctors, and a free country! He sent me some all-natural supplements that would help my body repair itself, "adrenal rebuilder" and a thyroid booster, and said I'd feel much better in a few weeks, and all better in six months (though it's taken some of my friends much longer to recover). After four weeks, I think the "much better" is starting to happen, although last week I was cryingly telling my boss I didn't know if I could recover in DC and was desperate enough to move home to Atlanta if that's what it took. Thankfully I felt much better the next day (maybe God wanted me to step off the cliff of faith) and then spring arrived in DC...the cure for all ills!
Right now I'm taking life one day at a time, rejoicing in the good days, enduring the bad, submitting to Addy's dominance of my life (and God's dominance over all things), and learning...oh...learning so, so much. So much that begs to be written. Thanks for reading. Thanks for being my outlet.
Huffing and Puffing
Around Christmastime last year, our community group did our monthly service project at a women's shelter in DC. Some of us bring food items to the shelter, and others prepare and serve it. All I had to do was bring the sour cream and cheese for fajitas.
I walked from my office in Penn Quarter to the shelter at 14th and N, about a 25 minute walk. I love to walk in DC. It's one of my favorite things to do, and normally I'll walk for blocks and blocks, hours and hours, passing metro stops as I go, to walk instead.
But not lately. By the time I got there, I was winded and starting to feel light-headed. With determination I climbed the four flights of stairs and proceeded to the kitchen. That's when the low blood sugar monster got me and I felt like I was about to pass out. I chugged some diet coke for a quick fix, and realized we didn't have enough drinks.
Every step to the 7/11 three blocks away was a chore, and I finally arrived, breathless. I bought three 2-liters and also some nuts for the energy to walk back. The clerk was taking his sweet time, and I was about to faint. I tried to be courteous even though I could feel the irritability building in my chest and my patience was about to snap. How could I be rude when I was buying drinks for battered women? But didn't this guy realize I was at death's door myself?
I tore into the package of cashews and chomped away. The three-block trip back to the shelter loomed overwhelmingly, but I somehow made it, lugging my two-liters that got more cumbersome with every step. And up the stairs. Four flights of stairs.
Done. I'm outa here. I've got to get home and lie on my couch. I've GOT to lie down, and get something to eat.
I tried to be nice to my friends as I stumbled out the door. But I was near tears and unable to express how I felt. What was wrong with me? Why could I not take a walk without feeling drained? Why by Thursday could I not wait for the weekend...to sleep for two days? Why had I been unable to make it to most of my Christmas parties? Why did I feel so depleted all the time, like the Energizer bunny's competition next to everybody else, next to my old self?
------
My doctor had little guidance. Eat more snacks throughout the day, eat healthier food, and exercise more. If that didn't help, then I could try a sleep study. Maybe I wasn't getting quality sleep and it was affecting everything else. But intuitively I knew that wasn't my problem, and I sure as hell didn't want to be hooked up to machines and have someone sit in a chair and watch me sleep all night long! But I would do whatever it took to get well...I was desperate. So I scheduled the sleep study.
Meanwhile, I remembered that one of my friends, Ragan, who had lived in DC and worked for a Christian minstry had experienced intense fatigue and had taken a two-month sabbatical. I had actually talked to her in January 2006 about this issue and she'd recommended the book "The Hidden Link Between Adrenaline and Stress," which I'd started at the time, but set aside after a few chapters because I thought I'd gotten the message. Oh, how I wish I'd kept reading.
I called her again, and asked how she was doing two years later. She's living in Hawaii and doing hard cardio for an hour a day, and has all the energy she needs and then some. Great, that helps. I couldn't drop everything and move to paradise (though I'm sure that would cure me), so I stepped up my running that weekend to an hour run on Saturday and a half hour on Sunday, but that night I had to excuse myself from a conversation at church and go stretch myself across some chairs in a back room. Not exactly the result I was hoping for.
When talking with Ragan though (thanks for your help, Rag!) I had mentioned the Adrenaline and Stress book and said, "So I should probably finish it, huh?" At her encouragement I picked it back up again, and took a huge step forward toward figuring out my prob.
------
Our bodies are truly amazing. They are equipped to respond to stress, danger, and the ups and downs of life in a fallen world. When we have a deadline at work or step on a snake in the woods, adrenaline kicks in automatically to provide the stamina, reflexes, and quick-thinking we need to get the job done or the heck outa there.
However, if you have a deadline or step on snakes every day, eventually the adrenaline is going to run out. We aren't machines, and there's no endless supply of anything in the universe besides God's mercy and toilet paper. I hope. So if I'm starting a church, trying to keep everyone happy, trying to be perfect, get it all done, going from brunch to a baby shower to a shopping spree to two parties, keeping up with my crushes and the dating game, placing unreal expectations on myself, and relying on coffee to get me through the day...I can't do it forever.
I'm one of those people. Call me an over-achiever, but I love to be busy, live life to the fullest, cram as much into a day as I can because time is precious and life is short. I love to hang out with my friends, go from one activity to the next, and get that rush of productivity and achievement at work. I want to experience it all, have adventures, take risks, and surmount my limitations. Including my humanness.
I walked from my office in Penn Quarter to the shelter at 14th and N, about a 25 minute walk. I love to walk in DC. It's one of my favorite things to do, and normally I'll walk for blocks and blocks, hours and hours, passing metro stops as I go, to walk instead.
But not lately. By the time I got there, I was winded and starting to feel light-headed. With determination I climbed the four flights of stairs and proceeded to the kitchen. That's when the low blood sugar monster got me and I felt like I was about to pass out. I chugged some diet coke for a quick fix, and realized we didn't have enough drinks.
Every step to the 7/11 three blocks away was a chore, and I finally arrived, breathless. I bought three 2-liters and also some nuts for the energy to walk back. The clerk was taking his sweet time, and I was about to faint. I tried to be courteous even though I could feel the irritability building in my chest and my patience was about to snap. How could I be rude when I was buying drinks for battered women? But didn't this guy realize I was at death's door myself?
I tore into the package of cashews and chomped away. The three-block trip back to the shelter loomed overwhelmingly, but I somehow made it, lugging my two-liters that got more cumbersome with every step. And up the stairs. Four flights of stairs.
Done. I'm outa here. I've got to get home and lie on my couch. I've GOT to lie down, and get something to eat.
I tried to be nice to my friends as I stumbled out the door. But I was near tears and unable to express how I felt. What was wrong with me? Why could I not take a walk without feeling drained? Why by Thursday could I not wait for the weekend...to sleep for two days? Why had I been unable to make it to most of my Christmas parties? Why did I feel so depleted all the time, like the Energizer bunny's competition next to everybody else, next to my old self?
------
My doctor had little guidance. Eat more snacks throughout the day, eat healthier food, and exercise more. If that didn't help, then I could try a sleep study. Maybe I wasn't getting quality sleep and it was affecting everything else. But intuitively I knew that wasn't my problem, and I sure as hell didn't want to be hooked up to machines and have someone sit in a chair and watch me sleep all night long! But I would do whatever it took to get well...I was desperate. So I scheduled the sleep study.
Meanwhile, I remembered that one of my friends, Ragan, who had lived in DC and worked for a Christian minstry had experienced intense fatigue and had taken a two-month sabbatical. I had actually talked to her in January 2006 about this issue and she'd recommended the book "The Hidden Link Between Adrenaline and Stress," which I'd started at the time, but set aside after a few chapters because I thought I'd gotten the message. Oh, how I wish I'd kept reading.
I called her again, and asked how she was doing two years later. She's living in Hawaii and doing hard cardio for an hour a day, and has all the energy she needs and then some. Great, that helps. I couldn't drop everything and move to paradise (though I'm sure that would cure me), so I stepped up my running that weekend to an hour run on Saturday and a half hour on Sunday, but that night I had to excuse myself from a conversation at church and go stretch myself across some chairs in a back room. Not exactly the result I was hoping for.
When talking with Ragan though (thanks for your help, Rag!) I had mentioned the Adrenaline and Stress book and said, "So I should probably finish it, huh?" At her encouragement I picked it back up again, and took a huge step forward toward figuring out my prob.
------
Our bodies are truly amazing. They are equipped to respond to stress, danger, and the ups and downs of life in a fallen world. When we have a deadline at work or step on a snake in the woods, adrenaline kicks in automatically to provide the stamina, reflexes, and quick-thinking we need to get the job done or the heck outa there.
However, if you have a deadline or step on snakes every day, eventually the adrenaline is going to run out. We aren't machines, and there's no endless supply of anything in the universe besides God's mercy and toilet paper. I hope. So if I'm starting a church, trying to keep everyone happy, trying to be perfect, get it all done, going from brunch to a baby shower to a shopping spree to two parties, keeping up with my crushes and the dating game, placing unreal expectations on myself, and relying on coffee to get me through the day...I can't do it forever.
I'm one of those people. Call me an over-achiever, but I love to be busy, live life to the fullest, cram as much into a day as I can because time is precious and life is short. I love to hang out with my friends, go from one activity to the next, and get that rush of productivity and achievement at work. I want to experience it all, have adventures, take risks, and surmount my limitations. Including my humanness.
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