Saturday, June 21, 2014
I lost my flipping mind yesterday for what seemed like a very specific and acute reason. I've been waiting for my doctor to weigh in on my salivary adrenal cortisol results for over three weeks.
Anyway, that's what prompted my big, fat, ugly meltdown yesterday. Or so I thought.
A few hours into my own personal melodramatic, tear-stained, wind-sucking misery that came out of nowhere, I magically got my period. Happy CD1! Love, My Body. So that made me look at things in a different light. First, it's clear that things are moving in the wrong direction. The kind of uncontrollable panic and flip-outs that used to be a big (and regular) part of PMDD and PMS haven't been on the scene for a while now. I guess that run is over? As I sit here with hypothyroidism and impaired adrenal functioning (read: I'm low in the morning, lower at noon, lower in the evening, and high at night right before bed)...... I now know they are a big part of what causes these symptoms. There have been months where we got my hormones to sub-optimal (a big improvement over my usual) and my thyroid was fine and I didn't lose my mind. Conversely, there have been months where my hormones were atrocious and my thyroid was fine and I really struggled. I get that it's a big loop and it runs downhill when things are bad in one area.
Thankfully, just the knowledge that CD1 was the scape goat for my meltdown helped. It shouldn't, of course, but it did. I'm tired of my monthly cycle feeling like being strapped into solitary confinement. And yet, knowing that hormones were to blame made it easier to process. Maybe I'm not actually losing my mind...maybe it's just my hormones. Again. Wait, when is it NOT my hormones??
I think I might have welcomed the logic stopping there. You know, before I got a giant, itchy rash all over. Sigh. Little else makes me panic as much as a giant, itchy rash. My brain instantaneously moves into complete freak-out mode when I get unexplained rashes. Because fevers are next (which it was). And hospitals are next (which it thankfully wasn't). And abscesses are next (which it thankfully wasn't). And lots of bad medical care is next (which it thankfully wasn't).
My brain knows that bicycle ride better than it knows how to find its way home. How is it possible that I have spent so much time, so much effort, so much money, so much time in prayer, and assigned so much hope and faith to the conquering of this problem and I still sit here, festering in it? How is it possible that my best effort isn't even close to good enough to conquer this? Have you ever felt the anguish of something like that? Because that's what this IF or SF or whatever you want to call this sad journey of mine felt like yesterday.
So in my meltdown, there were a few angels that jumped in front of the panic bus and stopped it like Superman crumpling the asphalt behind his magnificently rooted feet. People online instantly rallied in prayer. One person looked up naturopaths. One person sat with me in private messaging and talked me through the tears and suffered with me. I was reminded of the double novena I had just signed on to do. I prayed my two novena prayers for the day. And I sat there in awe afterward as I felt filled with a little bit of peace from praying with such a broken heart. The words didn't wash over me - they washed through me. Like a waterfall.
'O Sacred Heart of Jesus, for whom it is impossible not to have compassion on the afflicted, have pity on us miserable sinners and grant us the grace which we ask of you, through the Sorrowful and Immaculate Heart of Mary, your tender Mother and ours.'
'We trust to your gentle care and intercession, those whom we love and who are sick or lonely or hurting. Help all of us, Holy Mother, to bear our burdens in this life until we may share eternal life and peace with God forever.'
For now at least, I need to accept that I am the sick, lonely, hurting sinner that is in need of prayers. And as much as I want to not be...and as much as this uncomfortable exercise of living my deepest hurts out loud is grueling...I know that I am slowly finding healing from making the effort a priority.
I suffered in silence for a long time. It didn't help anything. So I sit here this morning feeling hopeful. Hopeful because God is allowing me to experience healing to my pain-riddled and weary heart through prayers. Hopeful because my pain, lived out in the the ugliest way I can imagine - publicly - is being met with love and charity and grace and hugs from people who know what it's like to be breathlessly infertile. Hopeful because I am definitely going to hire a naturopath to give these hormones and this thyroid and these adrenals another look. Hopeful because I know Christ lives in this hurt with me. And hopeful because I'm not willing to waste any time lost in God-less agony. I spent years stuck there and if it's anything I've learned from those years of illness and pain - it's that God is easier to find in those moments than at any other times in my life. So I have to remember to look for Him and say hello and weep at His feet. I'm pretty sure he's waiting for me to do that anyway.