anxiety – Swimupstream

August 19, 2018

Do I Look Sick To You?

I don’t think I look sick. And my guess is you don’t either. And if you saw me on the street, you may not even notice me. I might just sort of blend in with the “normal” people.

The truth is I live in that grey area between sick and well. I’m far removed from the days when I spent more time resting than upright, and when my lyme induced brain fog was so thick that I couldn’t read. (That lasted two years, BTW).

But I’m also far removed from the happy, vital, well digesting person I was before I got sick.

In that vein, let me dissect the above photo (taken while out and about in D. C.) to illustrate the ways in which chronic illness has affected me.

Let’s start with my shorts. For starters, they are not shorts. They are a bathing suit bottom. There is actually a bikini inside, which holds them up. They are a size too big so the waistband doesn’t touch me.

Now that I have you thoroughly confused, let me explain. Somewhere along the way, my entire body became hypersensitive to pressure, particularly in my abdominal area. As a result, I cannot tolerate any type of waistband. Or even a shirt or dress that’s tight through the middle.

In the summer I wear loose fitting dresses, or the afore-mentioned bathing suit/shorts. If I want a dress that’s more fitted, I buy it a size too big, and then have it taken in so it has a little shape but doesn’t touch me.

In the winter I wear leggings. I buy them several sizes too big, then take them to the tailor to have the elastic waistband removed and replaced with a drawstring so I can make them as loose as possible.

Let’s move up to my shirt. It’s slightly loose fitting around the middle. Again, nothing can touch me.

Now, my sunglasses. Note they are lightweight. Anything with a heavier frame than what I’m wearing hurts my head. Same for hats, which is why I’m in the screaming heat with an uncovered head.

On to my purse, which is more like a medical bag than a purse, as I am on a mostly liquid diet. It contains the following:

Two insulated cups, each filled with cold water and coconut oil (the oil adds much needed calories).
Two baggies containing the protein powder that will go into each cup at the appropriate time (the shake does not hold together if mixed ahead of time).
Digestive enzymes to help my body break down the shakes.
Oh, and a lipstick and some cash and credit cards.

The things you would normally find in a purse are the least of what I carry.

Why am I sharing this? I guess the moral of the story is you never know what somebody is facing. Looking at me would you ever guess I require a liquid diet to maintain life and can’t wear pants? I don’t think so.

I try not to use this blog to preach, but I’m going to just a little bit. Everybody is carrying something. Some people’s burdens are obvious. Other people’s are more invisible. And in a world that’s becoming increasingly uncivil, I think a little kindness goes a long way.

Be nice. You just never know.

August 19, 2018

Shaking My Way Around D.C.

Doesn’t everyone plop down on a curb when it’s “lunch time”? Well, I do.

My daughter and I enjoyed a fantastic get away to DC last week. It was quite the whirlwind, and we ended up being out and about for ten to twelve hours per day. That’s not the way we usually roll. We both tend to do best with a moderate amount of activity each day, along with plenty of downtime.

But we were enjoying the city so much that we ended up staying out from morning to evening. D.C. is like New York in that way. You walk out your door with a loose agenda, but then the flow of the city takes over and you end up bumping into fun and interesting experiences. It was one of those serendipitous trips where each day took on a life and flow of its own, and we just went with it.

While that was all very fun, it also created a bit of hassle for me, as I was continuously drinking a shake on the go. You’ll recall I’m on a primarily liquid diet because lyme disease destroyed my digestive tract.

In the photo above I’m preparing my “lunch” just as we arrived at the Holocaust Museum. There wasn’t anywhere to make my shake, so I just sat on the curb. Glamorous.

A few hours later we were strolling through the city when it was time for my afternoon snack. Again, there wasn’t anywhere obvious to make my shake, so we just stopped in front of a random building and I used a window ledge as my table.

I don’t really enjoy this portion of my program. For starters, my shake tastes best when it’s very cold. When I’m going to be out for the day, I store my insulated cups in the freezer overnight and then fill them with ice cold water before we headed out. But it was 95 and humid, and by the time it was shake time, the water was not that cold. Which meant my shakes were not that good.

In general, I have a very positive attitude about the fact I’m on a mostly liquid diet. In fact, I get upset with myself when I feel down about it because I know many people have far worse problems, and would happily trade with me. So, I do my best to be accepting.

But I’m human, and it’s hard to stay positive 100% of the time. I struggle most with optimism when on vacation. Food is part of the fun, right? New cities, new restaurants, treating yourself to things you wouldn’t normally eat. Unfortunately, I don’t get to experience that when traveling. I do eat solid food for dinner, but I’m on such a restricted diet due to food sensitivities that eating out in a new city is not much different than eating at home. And that makes me sad sometimes.

When I’m feeling sad about what I’m not eating, I try to focus on gratitude and perspective. Gratitude that my problems aren’t worse. Gratitude that my liquid diet most likely saved my life. (If you’re new — I bottomed out at 81 pounds before the liquid diet. My hair was falling out. I hadn’t menstruated in years. You could count every bone in my rib cage. In short, my body was failing.)

Is giving up chewing a reasonable price to pay for leaving that place of desperation? Of course it is. But it doesn’t mean it’s easy. Especially since I have no idea what the end game is. Will my body ever be able to process enough food to maintain life? Will I ever be able to transition back to a more normal diet? I have no idea.

That’s where perspective has to come in. My liquid diet is a difficult part of my life. But my life could be much more difficult than it is. And many people suffer in dramatically worse ways than I do.

In that light, how can I feel sorry for myself? How can I dwell in the negative?

Did I have a great food experience in DC? No, not really. But did I create priceless memories with my daughter on the eve of her new life in college? Absolutely. And I absolutely would not have had the stamina for that trip absent my weight gain from a liquid diet. No way. No how.

When I’m feeling down about what I’m not eating, I try to refocus my energy toward what I’m doing and experiencing. And I’m doing and experiencing a lot. And the reason I’m able to do and experience so much is because I’m sipping instead of chewing.

Now, that’s something to chew on.

August 13, 2018

Well That Was Interesting.

This post has nothing to do with lyme disease, anxiety or digestive issues, but yesterday was such an extraordinary day that I wanted to share.

My daughter and I decided to make a last minute trip to DC before she goes to college in a few days, so I packed up my liquid “food” and off we went. Yesterday was our first day here, I and I will take you through it as it happened so you can experience it as we did.

The day started out ordinary enough. Since it was Sunday, and many museums were closed we decided to make it a “Monument Day”. We were lucky to find a parking spot close to the Lincoln memorial, so we began there. Such a stunning sight.

Then it was on to the Washington Monument.

From there we strolled down the mall along the reflecting pool, and stopped at the World War II Memorial.

Even though we now live in Virginia, we will always be Minnesotans at heart.

At this point, we decided to walk toward the White House. As we walked, we came across a few people carrying signs, such as these:

As we walked further, we came to what was a relatively small gathering organized to protest the one year anniversary of Charlottesville. I thought it was a great opportunity to show my daughter free speech in action, so we hung around a bit, and then continued on our way toward the White House.

That’s when things started to get interesting, as we basically wandered into a major protest, and a situation that felt like a police state.

There were groups of police and secret service like this EVERYWHERE.

It turns out the “Unite the Right” group of white supremacists that was responsible for the Charlottesville riot had a permit for a rally in front of the White House. In response, thousands of counter protesters from various groups showed up.

And we found ourselves right smack in the middle of it all.

First, there was the burning of a Confederate Flag.

Then the Antifa group showed up, and that’s when things started to feel a little scary.

It’s not every day that you come across a group of people dressed in head to toe black, with their faces covered. At this point, we were staying very close to the police officers, which were there in abundance.

When the White Supremacists arrived, the atmosphere changed. There was a charge in the air, and things began to get very heated in spite of the fact the police had created about a two block neutral zone between the opposing groups. At that point, we decided it was time to leave. I wanted to give my daughter a civics lesson, but she saw enough, and we had to put safety first.

By now, we had been walking quite a bit and were far from our car. So, my daughter had the big idea to jump on the Bird electric sharing scooters. If you are not familiar with how it works, it’s simple. Bird scooters are placed all over the city. You locate one on an app, then walk up to it, scan the barcode on the scooter, scan your drivers license and credit card, and you are off. When you’re done, you just leave the scooter wherever you want, and somebody else will eventually grab it. Brilliant.

Here is my daughter on her Bird on the outskirts of the protest. This is where things became extremely surreal. Here is the situation: the streets are closed for a few blocks on the perimeter of the protest area. The sky is darkening as a storm rolls in. There are police helicopters circling overhead. There are clusters of police officers everywhere we look. We can hear the chants from the protest in the distance.

And in this environment, my daughter and I are on our scooters, cruising down the middle of closed off streets in downtown Washington DC. Surreal is the only way I can describe it.

We passed many intersections that looked like this. They were closed off in this manner in order to prevent truck bombs.

Oh, and there were multiple snipers visible on the roof of the White House.

When we had enough of the protest scene, we decided to scooter over to the Supreme Court. About halfway there, the sky opened up, so we dumped the scooters under a tree and jumped into an Uber.

And things got interesting again. It turns out we parked our car near what turned out to be the staging area for the white supremacists, so numerous streets were closed, and the Uber driver ended up going around in circles trying to get us closer. Finally, he gave us an umbrella somebody else had left behind, and let us out several blocks from our car.

Fortunately, pedestrians were allowed on the closed streets, so we huddled under the umbrella and hustled about half a mile to our car. We had plenty of our own umbrellas in the car, so when we arrived there, we handed the Uber umbrella off to somebody else who looked in need. It was that kind of day.

Once in the car, we realized how hungry we were, so we headed to our vacation “restaurant” of choice. Yes, Whole Foods. I forgot to take a photo, but I had a very paleo meal of steamed vegetables and chicken.

After dinner, the rain had cleared out, so we decided to press on. And we had a glorious night. The storm passed, the light was beautiful, and there were hardly any people around, so we enjoyed a near private visit to the supreme court and capitol buildings. The stillness and quiet and the sense were are nearly alone in the world were absolutely lovely.

A few shots of the Supreme Court in evening light. Above and below.

We ended our epic day with a walk around the outside of the capitol.

We took one last view of the Washington Monument from the Capitol before heading back to the car.

What a day.

August 11, 2018

Scenes From A Vacation.

I was too busy enjoying our vacation to write about it, so I will do a little recap now that we are home. First and foremost, it was a wonderful opportunity to spend quality time with our daughter before she heads to college. I will savor those moments with her for quite a while.

On the health front, it was a pretty good week for me. My anxiety was mostly in check, my energy was pretty good, and my GI tract was mostly cooperative. That’s about all I can ask for.

Here are a few highlights:

For me, provisioning is the first step in any vacation. Since this was a longer one, I shipped the two key ingredients of my life (I am on a mostly liquid diet): Absorb Plus Protein Powder, and MCT Oil (easy to digest) which adds critical calories to my shakes. Shipping in advance saves a lot of hassle, not to mention suitcase space.

We hit the beach the first day, and I had a big reason to smile. Namely, my bikini bottom fit.

Let me explain.

I’ve had many low points during my struggle with chronic lyme disease, but one of the lowest lows came about two and a half years ago when my husband and I were on vacation in Mexico. It was February, and I had not had my bathing suit on since the previous summer. I was still in the stage where I was losing weight at a rapid clip in spite of desperate attempts to gain weight. I had long since given up weighing myself because it was causing too much stress.

Well, my bikini bottom told the tale the scale didn’t.

As I pulled it on that February day I was horrified to find it literally would not stay up. My legs didn’t even fully fill the holes. It was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life, and a very tangible sign I was losing the battle with my GI issues.

My husband and I decided right then and there that something had to change, and fast. As soon as we returned from vacation, I started with a new nutritionist, who put me on the primarily liquid diet on which I remain today. I haven’t regained all my weight, but I’ve found a lot of it, and I had no trouble keeping my bikini bottom up last week. I don’t have the words to describe how good that felt. It’s also a nice reminder for the times when I feel a little down about all the things I’m no longer eating. I can eat real food and lose weight, or I can be on a liquid diet and gain weight.

It’s not really a difficult choice is it?

My daughter is obsessed with rock climbing, so there was no chance vacation would go by without at at least one trip to the gym. She’s been encouraging me to climb for years, but until recently, I’ve never felt well enough to give it a try. I’m definitely a convert, and I love it. On this day my body was pretty tired so I didn’t climb much. But it always feels good to get on the wall, and every time I do, it’s another reminder I’m slowly but surely getting stronger.

We tend to eat in a lot on vacation, as I feel best with home cooked food (and my family does too). But we also go out a couple of times. In this instance, I was thrilled to find a grass fed beef burger, which is the only type of beef I will eat as it’s much healthier than grain fed.

I’m on the Paleo diet, as it’s it is anti-inflammatory, which helps combat lyme induced inflammation. That means no bun. But the burger place was happy to do a lettuce wrapped burger for me, which was a special treat. This will sound funny, but on the Paleo diet, I rarely get to eat anything with my hands. Think: no buns, no bread, no taco shells, no wraps, no pitas. So it’s a real novelty for me to wrap my hands around a burger and dig in. I absolutely loved it. I supplemented it with a side salad, as fries are not on my personal menu.

I feel like I look a little tense in this photo, but I’m sharing it because it’s been a long time coming. We have been visiting the same beach each summer for many years. And every year my daughter does surf camp. And every year she asks me to do it with her. And every year I had to say no because I did not feel well enough or strong enough.

This was finally the year I was able to say yes. Yea.

It was way more exhausting than I expected, but I did it and was happy to have yet one more sign that I’m heading in a good direction.

The last night. The end of a vacation is always so bittersweet. Especially this one, as it’s also the end of an era in a way, as we are about to enter the college phase of our program. I was definitely sneaking in extra hugs whenever possible.

On the way home we had a long layover in the Atlanta airport, so there was time for a sit down lunch. Of course, that didn’t mean anything different for me, as I still had a protein shake. But it was nice to be able to enjoy it with warm water (my beverage of choice) out of a tea cup. You can see my shake cup by my right wrist.

I used to have a very hard time sitting at the lunch table sipping while everybody else chewed. But I’m to the point now where nine and a half times out of ten I’m perfectly fine with it. I just accept it as my reality. At least for now. And honestly, I’d rather sip and feel good than chew and feel badly.

And that’s a wrap on vacation.

Now I need to go and deal with the piles of laundry and mail……..

August 4, 2018

A Rare Treat on the First Night of Vacation.

When you are on a primarily liquid diet and eat only one meal of actual food each day, the definition of “treat” becomes relative.

For me, a few sips of coffee and a couple of bites of very dark chocolate (lowest sugar) constitute a big treat.

My GI tract is very sensitive to anything acidic, so I’m rarely able to tolerate things like coffee and chocolate. But when I’m having a good day, I definitely take advantage of the opportunity to enjoy those things.

I can only tolerate a small amount of coffee. Maybe ten sips. So I usually just sip from my husband’s cup when I’m up for coffee.

But sometimes I order my own cup even though I will throw most of it away. I know that’s wasteful on many levels, but it’s also restorative.

Let me explain.

I was a coffee drinker before I got sick. Now, my only beverages are water and protein shakes. Literally.

I miss the simple pleasure of grabbing a coffee. Of not even having to think about whether or not it will go down ok.

It’s such a small thing, but ordering my own cup vs. sharing my husband’s helps me tap into a time that was pre-all this. A time when I had coffee. Just like everyone else.

And as I continue to rebuild my life, it is healing any time I can tap into even the tiniest part of my former, healthy self.

I can’t think of a better way to start vacation.

August 1, 2018August 1, 2018

My Morning Walk In My New Town is Scenic, But I’m Not Seeing The Beauty.

I walk at dawn most days, and that time alone while the world is still largely asleep is critical to keeping my anxiety at bay.

Normally, my heart fills with gratitude for the opportunity to experience the beauty of the earth at that hour. The light, the stillness, the nature sounds, the silence. It’s all worth getting out of bed for, because nothing looks or feels the same once the sun is fully up and the world starts moving.

I treat these morning walks as a moving meditation. My mind is usually quiet, and I tend to be fully present to the sights and sounds around me. When I notice I’m thinking about my day ahead, or a problem, or whatever, I try to turn my attention back to the birds and the beautiful plays of light.

But ever since moving, I’ve been fully stuck in my head. I am unable to be present with my surroundings because truth be told, I don’t like them very much.

It truly is beautiful and charming here. Take a look:

What’s not to like, right?

For me, a lot. For starters, it’s not Home. And nothing beats Home.

Next, as lovely as our little town is, it’s ninety minutes from the nearest metro. That means ninety minutes from Whole Foods (where I used to go nearly daily), ninety minutes from Target, ninety minutes from doctors, therapists, etc.

As it turns out, that’s a problem for me. I’m used to easy access to all the things I need to make my life work, and my life isn’t working very well without it. I feel suffocated by the lack of resources here. This is a fantastic place to vacation, but living here is a whole different story. At least for me.

Also, as an anxiety sufferer, I require a certain degree of anonymity in order to feel at peace. And anonymity is hard to come by in a town of 400. As a result, I feel exposed. There is no privacy.

Sometimes when I’m out for a walk, certain emotions will come up, and I like to just take a moment to sit on a bench somewhere and cry. It’s healing. Well, I don’t dare do that here, or it will be all over town that Sue Westbrook was crying on a bench at 6 AM. I’m not kidding.

I wake up in a panic every morning. The feeling of wanting to escape is enormous. When I’m out for my walk I go past the road that leads out of town. Most mornings I take that road and just keep walking. I don’t know where I think I’m going, but walking out of town feels like the right thing to do.

In hindsight, this move feels like a really bad idea. After suffering from debilitating anxiety for over three years, I was finally getting back on track and starting to live my life again. I was making progress. I was heading in a good direction.

And now, here I am in an environment that is the polar opposite of the one in which I was doing so well. Why did I think that would be a good idea? In hindsight, I should have understood I couldn’t change everything and expect it to be OK.

You may be wondering why I moved in the first place. Love is the short answer. My daughter is headed to college about 90 minutes from here, and she needed us to be nearby. Plus, my husband is from here, and he moved to Minnesota for me, so it’s my turn to return the favor.

Deep down, I think I knew this move could be a mistake for me. But it was right for my husband and daughter, so I felt my only option was to go along with it. And while I had deep reservations, I hoped everything would work out once I got here.

Well, pretty much the opposite happened. Everything I was afraid of came true, and then some. And this was not a self-fulfilling prophecy. I came with an open mind hoping for the best.

But my body has had a violent reaction. My anxiety is raging, and painful depression is coming and going. Depression is a new one for me, and I’m not enjoying it.

I’m in trouble here.

Fortunately, my husband is incredibly supportive, and once we have our daughter safely tucked into college we are going to make some changes to help me adjust. We are exploring options that will allow me to spend more time in a city environment where I am more comfortable and will have more access to the things I need in order to be happy and balanced.

Hopefully, spending a day or two outside our little town each week will help me feel more content when I return. That’s the plan anyway.

I don’t know for sure how it will work out or what we will do. But one thing I know for sure — I fought incredibly hard to pull myself out of a death spiral of anxiety, and I’m not giving up the ground I’ve gained. No way, no how.

I’m grateful my husband is in lockstep with me on that. With his help and love and support combined with my determination and grit, I do believe I can pull myself out of this. It’s not going to be easy, and it’s going to take time, but I’m going to figure this out.

July 30, 2018July 30, 2018

In the Haze of Moving, A Pause to Overnight my Urine to Minnesota.

You could call that gross, or you could just call it a routine day in my life.

In the crush and mess of moving, I’m doing my best to stay on track with managing my health. Frankly, I’m not doing that great of a job. I’m working too hard, I’m not resting enough, and I’m not making enough time for the things that help me feel well — both physically and mentally.

However, I did make time to keep on track with my GI doctor in Minnesota. He’s currently treating me for yeast overgrowth in my GI tract. I really like my GI doctor, so I decided to work with him long distance when we moved. Fortunately, he has patients all over the country, so he’s used to that.

But, working with a doctor long distance means getting him the information he needs to monitor your progress, so that’s where the urine comes in. While handling my own urine is not my favorite thing to do, I just accept it as part of my reality. And honestly, it was pretty simple. I just collected it, froze it and then overnighted it.

The good news is I’m making progress on the yeast front. My initial infection rated 2.75 (whatever that means), and I’m down to a 1 now. I think the goal is to get to zero, so I’m definitely headed in the right direction. This is very good news considering I had great difficulty tolerating the recommended treatment due to my extreme sensitivity to medication. My doctor wanted me to take three different anti-microbials in fairly high doses, but I was only able to tolerate one of them at the very lowest dose. You can read more about that here.

Since I am so sensitive to medication, this is definitely a marathon not a sprint, but my doctor says I just need to keep at it slowly and steadily, and that’s what I intend to do.

I actually feel a little better in the GI department. Not go-out-and-have-a-burger-and-fries-better. It’s more that I’m eating the same things I usually do, but I feel better doing so. I count that as progress, and I’ll take what I can get.

My GI problems remain a mystery. I have very slow motility, which means my GI tract moves very, very slowly. In fact, it moves so slowly, there is no possible way I can digest enough calories in a single day to maintain my weight. That’s why I’m on a mostly liquid diet.

All my lyme doctors blame my motility disorder on the fact I have chronic lyme disease. Just another side effect. Non-lyme doctors are not so sure. The Mayo Clinic diagnosed Idiopathic Intestinal Pseudo Obstruction, which is a fancy way of saying your small intestine isn’t really working, and we have no idea why. I’ve met with several GI doctors who are sure my issues are not lyme related, but don’t have any other answers.

Long ago, I decided to let everybody be right. If the lyme doctors think treating lyme will also treat my gut, then great. Have at it. If GI doctors think treating other issues related to my GI tract will solve my problems, they can have at it too. So that’s what I’m doing. Low Dose Immunotherapy (LDI) seems to be keeping my non-GI lyme issues in check. On the GI front, I just continue to plunk away at whatever comes up. Right now, it’s the yeast overgrowth. Once that’s under control, my GI doctor wants to look at other things, and we will see what that yields.

That’s the best I can do for now.

Sometimes I take stock and think I’m doing pretty well. Then I remember I only eat one solid meal per day, and that sort of scares me. How well can I be doing if I’m on a mostly liquid diet?

But the truth is, the liquid diet probably saved my life, as I was 81 pounds and still falling when I started it. I can’t imagine how much lower I could have gone while still maintaining life. So, I’m far removed from that horror.

But I’m also far removed from normal eating and digesting. That’s a hard place to be. In fact, I got a few tears as I typed that. I’m not sad about the food I’m not having — I got over that long ago. I’m sad because I wonder about my future. Will my digestion ever be restored to something that feels more normal? Or am I looking at it?

When I get into thought patterns like that, I remind myself to take a step back. I have to remember I have 100% control over the effort I put in every day, but zero control over the ultimate outcome. That’s out of my hands, and the less I think about the outcome, the more free I feel.

Which brings me back to today. I don’t have the answers to my complex GI riddle. However, I know I have yeast overgrowth. And I know taking care of it will help me feel incrementally better. So, I will focus on that. And when I’m done with the yeast, I will focus on the next thing, whatever that may be.

And in that manner, I will just keep going. Never giving up. Always hoping for the best.

July 22, 2018

The Physical Journey is Over. The Emotional One is Just Beginning.

Here I am literally the moment I pulled into our new home in small town Virginia after our journey from St. Paul, Minnesota. Thankfully, we arrived safe and sound after three days on the road. My husband did the bulk of the driving, but we split up in Richmond so he could buy a new car (easier than moving two cars).

Yes, I’m as tired as I look.

I was tired from the road trip, tired because my daughter and I went climbing in Richmond while my husband bought his car, and tired from the emotional toll of it all.

This post is a week late because I’ve spent the past week in the haze of unpacking and setting up house. We have a way to go, but the house is taking shape.

The bulk of the physical tasks are behind us. We got here. Most of the boxes are unpacked. The fridge and pantry are stocked, and things are nicely organized on and in newly cleaned shelves and drawers.

If only the emotional unpacking were so easy. And so tidy.

If you’ve been reading, you know I was a jumble of emotions prior to leaving my hometown. I was hopeful that once I arrived in Virginia, I would leave the feelings of loss behind and be able to look forward with excitement to my new life here.

It’s only been a week and a day, but I’ve been spending dramatically more time looking backwards than forward. Yes, I know I need to give myself time, but the trend line is not moving in the right direction.

When you suffer from anxiety as I do, there is indescribable comfort in the familiar. In Minnesota, I basked in a cocoon of familiarity, as I’ve lived there my entire life. That cocoon helped me as I fought through the debilitating effects of lyme disease and anxiety. The cocoon held and comforted me as I worked so hard to get back to something resembling the physical and emotional health I once knew.

Here in Virginia, save for my husband and daughter, nothing feels familiar. Everywhere I go, I am reminded that everything is different. Every single thing.

For some people, that would be a bonus. For someone who thrives on familiarity, it’s heartbreaking. Instead of seeing new opportunities, I see only loss. Instead of embracing the new, I’m mourning the old.

Please don’t mistake this as having a bad attitude, which I don’t. I’m trying to keep an open mind, It’s just that I’m very sad and a little shellshocked.

My husband is from here, and we’ve been together for 15 years, so I have spent considerable time here. In fact, I absolutely loved it here — when I was visiting. When I was visiting I could see the charm of it all. The beauty of the water, the uniqueness of the water culture, the quaintness of the small town, the creativity in the shops and architecture.

I could see all that because this wasn’t home. It was just a magical place I was visiting.

But now that it’s home, the magic is gone for me. Quaint feels suffocating. Being an hour and a half from a major metro does not feel charming. It feels inconvenient. Being away from my friends and family and my entire history is overwhelming. In fact, I haven’t even been keeping in touch with anybody via text or email or phone, because somehow, being in contact only makes me feel the distance more acutely.

Again, I realize I need to give this time. It only took three days to cover the thousand miles between Minnesota and here. It’s going to take much longer to travel the emotional distance.

I don’t think I would be having this much trouble if I hadn’t gotten sick. The darkest days of my physical and emotional illness rattled me to my core, and there’s a part of me that will forever be vulnerable because of that. It’s as though a certain rewiring has occurred, and it’s harder for me to feel safe in the world. Harder for me to tolerate change. Harder for me to be in unfamiliar territory.

All day, every day, I am confronted with the unfamiliar. And it doesn’t feel good.

Of course, everything that becomes familiar started out as unfamiliar at one time. I understand that. But this was not the best time in my life to be rocketed out of so much familiarity.

There were many times during my darkest days when I had no reason whatsoever for optimism. My body was wracked with lyme disease, and all attempts to treat it only made me more sick. My doctor was scratching his head, as my response to treatment was so atypical, and he was running out of ideas. My mind was wracked with anxiety that also seemed treatment resistant, and my therapist was scratching her head and running out of ideas.

In short, I was working unbelievably hard to regain my health. And I was getting nowhere. And there didn’t seem to be any reason to believe things would change.

At that point, aside from my husband, there was only one thing I could cling to, and that was my faith. I literally had no other options. I just had to surrender myself to God and trust there was some way out that only He could see. And it turns out there was. There was no major turning point. Just a continual series of minor improvements that ultimately led to me feeling better both physically and mentally. I am not fully restored, but I am far removed from those dark, miserable, hopeless days.

Now I find myself at a similar crossroads. I’m just not comfortable here in Virginia. It’s not rubbing me the right way. I want to go home.

But I need to remind myself that the same God who led me out of the desperate darkness led me to this place. I have to believe He knows what He’s doing. Honestly, I feel like I would be better off if I had never left home, but if these years have taught me anything it’s that God’s plans are better than mine.

So in this time of sadness and feeling lost, I am trying every day to place myself in God’s hands. I ask him to help me keep my mind open to what He is trying to teach me, to what He is trying to reveal to me.

For now, my job is to stay the course. To stay as positive as I can, and to keep my eyes and ears and heart open to whatever it is I am supposed to be learning.

Time will tell.

July 14, 2018July 14, 2018

Pulling Away and Eating on the Road.

Here we are in front of the moving truck. A friend is driving it to Virginia for us, and we are traveling by car.

Pulling out of town for the last time was difficult, but not as hellacious as I thought it would be. I think that was in part due to the fact I decided to drive and let my husband take the passenger seat. I had this strong sense that if I was driving it would be more like leaving vs. being taken away. It’s the same reason I walked myself down the aisle (which was actually a dock) when I married my husband. It was my second marriage and I had a child. By that point, I was my own person. Nobody was giving me away. I was entering my new life on my own.

It’s sort of the same with this move. I am leaving the only home I have ever known for my husband’s home town. In some way I need to carry my own identity with me, and for whatever reason I thought being behind the wheel would help.

My heart hurt and heaved a little as I drove down the ramp to 94 East for the last time. And then it cleaved a bit when we crossed into Wisconsin about 20 minutes later. There were tears. But I was not a sobbing mess, which I think was due to the fact I had to concentrate on the road. That was another reason I wanted to drive.

So that’s the leaving. Now on to the eating. Not easy on a road trip when you have my diet restrictions. I am on the Paleo diet, as it is anti-inflammatory, which helps fight lyme induced inflammation. I am restricted by the diet, but I also have intolerances. As a result, my food life looks like this: no gluten, dairy, added sugar sugar, grains, garlic or onions.

Interestingly, my daughter has GI issues that are completely different from mine, however, she shares my main food intolerances: gluten, dairy, garlic, onions. And she mostly avoids sugar. (FYI, the garlic and onion and the hardest to deal with — everything else is pretty easy to work around).

Food intolerances aside, neither my daughter or I are willing to eat fast food, which isn’t really food as far as I am concerned. Our sensitive GI tracts are used to high quality, “clean” food, and we’d probably require medical assistance if we ate at Taco Bell. BTW, my husband can eat anything and feel fine, so he balances us out.

Since I’m on a liquid diet for every meal except dinner, I only need to figure out one meal per day. But my daughter eats real food all day long, so we had to figure out a plan for her. We brought instant oatmeal cups for her breakfast.

My plan for lunch and dinner was to stop at Whole Foods. My thought was that even if we passed a Whole Foods at a non-meal time, we would just pick up stuff for lunch and dinner that day and keep it in the cooler until it was time to eat.

Well, that plan fell apart, as we never passed a Whole Foods that was even remotely close to our path, and we did not want to waste time veering off course.

Enter plan B.

The first night, we managed to track down a grocery co-op in a little town called Stoughton, Wisconsin. Honestly, it was pretty slim pickings, but we made it work. My husband found prepared food (remember he can eat anything), but none of the prepared options would work for my daughter or I. So, I went into assembly mode. I picked up some lettuce, tomatoes, an organic avocado, raw, organic goat cheese (we can do goat dairy), and Applegate all natural deli turkey (technically not on my diet, as it’s processed, but desperate times…..).

Here I am cutting the avocado with a plastic knife while I assemble my salad. You can see my daughter’s meal in the bottom right. We had gluten free bread in the car, so she grabbed that, and I made her a sandwich version of my salad. You can see the fixings gathered around my salad container — the meat, cheese and lettuce. Doesn’t everyone buy a head of lettuce on a road trip?

(FYI, never mind the plywood. Apparently a truck drove through the window of the co-op).

Here is my salad. Not the most beautiful thing I ever made, but it was good in a pinch.

We finished our meal with organic raspberries and a spot of dark chocolate. I can usually tolerate a square, and it’s a nice treat.

So day one went pretty well on the food front.

Day two was more of a challenge. Once again, no Whole Foods within reasonable proximity.

At lunch time fast food was literally the only option, so we went to Taco Bell… for my husband. I had my protein shake, and I assembled lunch for my daughter from food we were carrying with us. I had packed a loaf of gluten free bread and a jar of organic SunButter in the event this very situation arose. She rounded out her meal with grapes and baby carrots I had packed in the cooler.

So picture this scene at a Taco Bell somewhere along the side of a highway. There is a man eating a burrito. There is a woman sipping from a thermal cup. Spread on the table are the following: a loaf of bread, a jar of SunButter, a bag of grapes, a bag of carrots. The woman makes a sandwich for the teenager sitting across from her. The man eats the burrito. The woman continues to sip, and the teenager eats the sandwich, fruit and carrots.

Just another day in our life. I don’t even get self-conscious about that stuff anymore. It’s just how we roll.

Which brings us to dinner. A complete disaster. Again, no Whole Foods. Nothing viable. We were in Charleston, West Virginia around dinner time, and I had located a farmer’s market that also had prepared food. It seemed like it would be a home run, but everything was closing up about the time we arrived.

Then I Googled “organic restaurant near me” and something came up that looked promising. We pulled up, and it was in a mostly boarded up neighborhood and did not seem to be open. Strike two. Third option — a grocery store. I thought we could get salad fixings and a cooked deli chicken we could pull apart with our hands. Kroger is the local brand, so I entered the nearest Kroger into the GPS, and we were brought to……the side of a river. No Kroger. No nothing. Crap.

By this point, we had wasted about an hour and we still had three hours to drive and just wanted to get on with it. So, we pulled out of Charleston and hoped for something better down the road. There was not much, so we decided my daughter and I would cobble something together from the food we had on hand, and my husband would eat whatever fast food he wanted.

Then I saw a sign for Wendy’s, and a memory from way back came to the surface. Wendy’s has baked potatoes. Technically, white potatoes are not Paleo, but we had to get real here. So, we stopped at Wendy’s. I gathered random things from the cooler — the rest of the avocado from the night before, the goat cheese, the carrots, the lettuce. My daughter and I ordered the plain baked potatoes, and I made myself a side salad with the lettuce, avocado and cheese. My daughter added the cheese to her potato and supplemented with baby carrots.

Before we ate, I said “let’s say a quick prayer over this lovely meal”. Without missing a beat my daughter added “and let’s hope it doesn’t kill us”. I laughed right out loud. It was the first time I’d been in a Wendy’s since I don’t know when, but it was fun and funny. Geezzz..

This morning, we are just three hours from our new home and food will not be an issue. I know for a fact there is a Whole Foods on the way, and we will definitely be loading up.

This might seem like a lot of work, and maybe even a little crazy. And if you think that, consider yourself lucky, because it means you’ve never had serious GI issues. Look, I can barely eat. Just one meal per day. And I if I don’t take care with that meal, I will feel very crappy. Not just for a few hours. But for a few days.

I didn’t enjoy the stress and hassle of the food gymnastics. But my daughter and I feel as well as we possibly can given the circumstances, and that is no small feat. We spent a lot of time talking about how “normal” people would take a road trip vs. how we take one. It wasn’t a sad or remorseful conversation. More wistful. We are both pretty accepting of our digestive situations.

And truly, there are so many people out there with much bigger problems. Everyone has their cross to bear, and this is mine. All things considered, it’s pretty manageable, and I can’t complain. I really can’t. It could be so much worse.

Onward.

July 12, 2018

It’s Moving Day.

I have been dreading this day more than I could ever express in words.

The past few months have been filled with lasts, endings and goodbyes. It’s been heart wrenching and heart breaking. Some days I would shake from the inside out. Some nights I’d wake up in a panic. The tears have been free flowing and endless.

I am leaving the only place I have ever lived. I am leaving countless people and places I love dearly. At times my heart hasn’t felt big enough to contain the tremendous ache of it all.

My daughter is off to college in Virginia, where my husband is from, so that means we are all moving. It’s a new beginning for my daughter, and it’s a homecoming for my husband. But for me, it’s just……..leaving.

I knew it would be hard to go, but the process of shutting down my life here has been exponentially more difficult than I could ever have imagined.

But today is the day, and I woke up with a feeling that was 150% unexpected: calm. Don’t ask me where that came from, as the past few months have been anything but. Perhaps it’s that saying goodbye is harder than actually leaving. I don’t know.

In spite of my calm, my heart is still heavy. There’s no escaping that. However, before today my sadness was so all encompassing there wasn’t room for any other emotion.

But for whatever reason, that changed today. In addition to calm, a wave of gratitude has swept in. These past few months, I have been focusing solely on everything I’m losing and leaving. But in the shower this morning, it occurred to me there was another way to look at my situation. It wouldn’t be so hard to leave if I hadn’t been so happy here. It wouldn’t be so hard to leave if I hadn’t experienced so much love here. And it wouldn’t be so hard to leave if I hadn’t experienced so much healing here.

So today I’m focusing on all those who have loved me, helped me and stood by me in both good and bad times. I’m grateful for every person who has crossed my path and left a mark in some way. It’s a funny thing to say, but thank you for making it so darn hard to leave. I’m lucky that way.

At this moment, I’m sitting on the floor in the corner of my bedroom as the movers quickly, yet methodically remove our belongings. Every last thing is packed. Every box is closed, every piece of furniture is wrapped up. The fridge is empty. There is nothing for me to do now but wait. Wait for the movers to finish their job. Wait for my new beginning.

And as I wait my mind is relatively still, which is unusual for me.

This move is going to be difficult. There will be challenges and adjustments. I hope there will be happiness and laughter and joy too. But that’s all in the future. And I don’t know about that.

The only thing I know for sure as I sit here on the floor is that my heart is full. Full of love. Full of gratitude.

If I keep focusing on gratitude, I think I just might have the courage to walk out the door and drive away. I’m not looking forward to that moment. It feels so large and impossible and unfathomable. But it’s happening. Soon. In a couple of hours.

Please pray for me and wish me well. I will do the same for you.

XXOO