Friday, July 31, 2015


I thought I'd start writing more in the spring.  This winter was a doozy for me.  I was unknowlingly suffering from hypothyroidism and it was taking it's toll.  I was tired.  So tired I would get up in the morning and literally cry because I was so tired I physically didn't know how I was going to get out of bed.  My hair was falling out, I had horrible aches and pains throughout my body and I was depressed, angry; it wasn't good.  The depression startled me.  I didn't see it happening, mostly because I was too tired to see or do much beyond keep myself and the kids alive and fed every day.  And maybe I held myself together well enough that most people would be surprised to read this.  But all of a sudden, one week I realized I was sitting in the bottom of a pit and I was a long way down and I couldn't get out by myself.  So I did what I could do and I asked for help.  I told Hubs I thought I was going crazy and gave him all my symptoms and cried and he held me and listened, and I said I think I should see a therapist, and he said I think you need to see your doctor and get your thyroid checked.

And I did and it was off.  And I started taking meds and I kinda backed off of everything for a while.  I needed some rest.  So my house wasn't quite as clean, the dinners weren't quite as exciting, the bread started coming from Costco, the home projects completely stopped, and the kids watched a little more PBS after work.  I gave myself some grace.  After a few weeks it started getting a little better.  And then a little better.  And I thought that when I bounced back, I'd be able to hit the ground running and pick up the pace and start really moving again and it didn't happen that way and it really frustrated me.  How can I be getting less done now that I'm well than I was getting done when sick?

After reading The Little Engine That Could to Little Lady for the millionth time in one day, I started see how maybe I was a little like a train.  I was coasting on momentum and speed for a really long time, but it couldn't have lasted forever.  And just like a train carrying a heavy load, the starting back up is the hardest and slowest part.  I'd lost my momentum.  So I gave myself a little more grace to go at a snail's pace.

And I'm still here.  My house is a disaster most times, but I've started cooking again.  I bought painter's tape, which is a step in the home improvement direction....  I'm here, writing.  Most importantly, though, I feel whole and full of light.  Not in the I'm fixed and all better and back to normal sense, because I gave up on that after Jameson died.  Once something's broken, its broken.  You can either learn to make peace with the imperfections or be eternally miserable.  This now almost year long health mishap has brought me to my knees(physically and spiritually) and there, I've done a lot of prayerful reflection and seeking.  I'm realizing more and more the areas of myself that are still quite broken and my prayers for myself are often that God will soften my heart.  But maybe we'll save that can of worms for another day.

So this is a start in building momentum.  I can't say when I'll be back to write again. Maybe next week, maybe next month.  I don't know.  I do know that for a very long time, I didn't feel like I could write and be  And I still have a lot of things in my heart that feel raw and personal and it's hard to write around them.  But it's a start. 

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