I wrote this yesterday and almost didn't post it. But, in an effort to share the "realness" of life, I decided to go ahead and hit "publish."
I haven't talked publicly about Hashimoto's, my autoimmune disease, for a long time. For a while, it was THE thing in my life. But after getting on the right meds, vastly changing my diet, and learning to take care of myself, it's become just A thing, something that's part of who I am but doesn't rule my life.
Most of the time.
Today, though, I'm very aware of Hashi and the limitations it gives me. We had a major snowstorm that dumped 10-ish inches and created drifts of 3 or more feet. My car isn't going anywhere until it gets dug out.
I know that strenuous exercise isn't good for me, but what was I supposed to do? (Of course, I could've chosen to stay snowed in, at least in theory. But it didn't really feel like a choice. I needed to dig out.) So I bundled up and attacked the snow. After about 30 minutes, I quit. I'm still snowed in. And I spent the next hour sprawled on the couch. Three hours later, I'm not feeling much better.
I used to feel this—this deep, utter exhaustion—every single time I mowed my lawn. Last summer, I didn't feel it once, which is a testament to how much healing I've done. But it's frustrating to have my limitations thrown in my face. I cringe when I wonder if the neighbors think I'm lazy or wimpy—because I look perfectly normal; I look like I should be able to handle some snow. I was even slightly embarrassed when I admitted to my friend (and sometimes mail carrier) that "this" just about killed me when she delivered a package this afternoon, and she knew me when I was at my worst! I guess it's just humbling to be reminded that some things are out of my control, and I'm not really self-sufficient.
I also worry that this exertion is going to set me back, cause a flare-up of symptoms, and impact more than just today. I know that I'll need to be extra vigilant and extra gentle with myself for a while. This in itself is frustrating, as I'm forgoing some things I'd like to do (like keeping up with my steps in a walking challenge I've joined) in hopes of not making things worse.
But I'm also so thankful that I'm not where I once was. If it takes a snowstorm to remind me of both my frailty and of how far I've come, I guess I should be grateful. And I'm also grateful for my dad, who came over after he got off work and finished digging me out!
I haven't talked publicly about Hashimoto's, my autoimmune disease, for a long time. For a while, it was THE thing in my life. But after getting on the right meds, vastly changing my diet, and learning to take care of myself, it's become just A thing, something that's part of who I am but doesn't rule my life.
Most of the time.
Today, though, I'm very aware of Hashi and the limitations it gives me. We had a major snowstorm that dumped 10-ish inches and created drifts of 3 or more feet. My car isn't going anywhere until it gets dug out.
I know that strenuous exercise isn't good for me, but what was I supposed to do? (Of course, I could've chosen to stay snowed in, at least in theory. But it didn't really feel like a choice. I needed to dig out.) So I bundled up and attacked the snow. After about 30 minutes, I quit. I'm still snowed in. And I spent the next hour sprawled on the couch. Three hours later, I'm not feeling much better.
I used to feel this—this deep, utter exhaustion—every single time I mowed my lawn. Last summer, I didn't feel it once, which is a testament to how much healing I've done. But it's frustrating to have my limitations thrown in my face. I cringe when I wonder if the neighbors think I'm lazy or wimpy—because I look perfectly normal; I look like I should be able to handle some snow. I was even slightly embarrassed when I admitted to my friend (and sometimes mail carrier) that "this" just about killed me when she delivered a package this afternoon, and she knew me when I was at my worst! I guess it's just humbling to be reminded that some things are out of my control, and I'm not really self-sufficient.
I also worry that this exertion is going to set me back, cause a flare-up of symptoms, and impact more than just today. I know that I'll need to be extra vigilant and extra gentle with myself for a while. This in itself is frustrating, as I'm forgoing some things I'd like to do (like keeping up with my steps in a walking challenge I've joined) in hopes of not making things worse.
But I'm also so thankful that I'm not where I once was. If it takes a snowstorm to remind me of both my frailty and of how far I've come, I guess I should be grateful. And I'm also grateful for my dad, who came over after he got off work and finished digging me out!
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