Monday, April 5, 2010

the scoop, part two

It's funny to me how we arbitrarily decide where a story begins. This story starts a year ago pretty much because I said so, and because it's just too much to start way back where it really started. I've got enough to tell you as it is.

About a year ago, I began to notice persistent feelings of heaviness that I couldn't really account for by examining my circumstances. I was slightly depressed and slightly anxious and slightly out of breath most of the time. I felt like I was walking in molasses, like I had to be very intentional to lift one foot in front of the other. I became less and less motivated, and more and more sleepy. I swear, I could have slept sixteen hours a day and I still would have felt run down. And most disturbing of all, I couldn't think the molasses had seeped into my brain and was mucking up my synapses.

Outwardly, things were going very well for me. I was just approaching the end of a year of diving into old spiritual practices with a group of amazing people, and I was basking in the glow of a successful writing project that was used by my church to introduce people to imaginative prayer. In fact, the project was such a success that the church was looking at ways to rework my job description so that I would be doing more writing. That was very exciting to me. I was spending lots of time getting to know my little grandbaby, settling into a new and rich stage of my life. I could go on and on here. Really, everything was great, so the heaviness was a puzzle to me. I decided to ignore it and hope it would just go away. (Brilliant strategy, huh?)

I realize, looking back, that this was the first of many "smoke signals" my body was sending me. It was trying to get me to pay attention to something that I didn't particularly want to notice. Bodies are amazing, really. They know stuff. I wish I was as smart and creative as my body. It's a flippin' genius. I think I'll spend the rest of my life saying "thank you" for all the ways it tried to get me to listen, and "I'm sorry" for all the ways I plugged my ears and said, "la la la la...I'm not hearing this!" My poor, ignored, unappreciated body is still suffering from a psychic sore throat because of all the screaming it had to do to finally get my attention. Things had to get very ugly before I began to turn to it and say, "Oh, I'm sorry, was there something you were trying to tell me?"

But at this point, my body was just sending me nice, polite little notes. It didn't pull out all the stops and take me hostage for quite some time...


  1. Yikes.

    I'm sad to know things happened to you while you were away from blogging that I had no idea you were enduring.

    In my brain, the timing is all foggy. I find myself wondering if the illness you're describing here is the illness that landed you in the hospital at some point. I am guessing that it is.

    I guess I'll be reading the rest of the story to really find out, though. :)

    It's so good to be reading your words again. You have a gift, my friend. It is no surprise to me that the church wanted to find a way to keep you writing.


  2. It's really good to be reading your words again. I remember you saying something about this persistent, nagging unease and not-quite-rightness that started about that time and I'm delighted to hear that though so much has changed, that you're in a good place now.

    I can't wait to hear what comes next. It's such a gift to have you here again.

  3. Ugh. That sounds horrid. In fact, I read this and I feel like I'm waiting for the ball to drop. From the way you talk, you're much better now . . . I'm so very glad! And I do want to hear the rest, I can just tell it's going to be painful in places.

  4. christianne: no...the hospitalization was almost two years ago. that's partly what i was referring to when i said starting this story a year ago was an arbitrary starting point. my body has been trying to get through to me for a very long time. it's just that a year ago, things became more persistent and i was less and less able to point to some external thing to make sense of it.

    i'm so, so glad to have you listening.

    kirsten: hi there! i'm really happy you've peeked back in. you understand something about bodies and the messages they send us. yours is brewing up a doozie of love note. :)

    sarah: don't worry dear. all is well.

  5. please say more. im all ears . . .

  6. my poor husband has to read my blog to figure me out. sad, really. :)

  7. i can read words better than body language. (guys. we just dont get it!)

  8. Oh, you two are so cute. I'm smiling to be basking in that revelation again. It has been too, too long. :)