What’s Working

I haven’t posted anything about health in a while.  When this blog started back in November, I was in the throws of having recently lost my job, and 6 days later, starting symptoms of thyroiditis.

Thyroiditis was dominating my thoughts at that time, and with good reason, it was causing a deafeningly-loud whooshing sound in my right ear.  It was enough to drive a person mad, and I began clamoring for an answer to what was causing it, and more importantly, how to make it stop, IMMEDIATELY!

That began my journey, which eventually led me to read a book, and now I’m in a pretty good place with it all.  It went away, for the most part.  And it happened so gradually that I almost didn’t even notice.

Today I began to really think; out of all the things I tried (and I did a lot: working out, going sober, elimination diets, meditation, acupuncture, chiropractic, massage) what were the ones that really WORKED?

The answer?  The most effective thing was to stop working on it.  I pretty much just stopped thinking about it. I also worked hard on eliminating any negative feelings about anything. ANYTHING.  So no worrying.  No brooding.  NO BLAMING (the key).

When a friend complains about work being boring, my first thought was to get annoyed at my job, because yes, it fucking sucks sometimes!  Instead I’d put a good spin on it and say, yes, work is a great place to catch up on your daydreaming and web surfing.

It just makes me feel lighter to laugh at the crap that sucks, which relaxes my muscles in my face and neck, which allows my ear to drain more freely (ew).

I also give some credit to my HerbaSway teas.  There’s a lot of antioxidants in those fuckers, it’s gotta be helping. 🙂

I still drink wine, eat cheese, sometimes forget to eat, and drink coffee.

I do those things when I feel like it.

I don’t hold back if I don’t want to,
because I trust that my body will talk to me when it wants me to stop.

And then I’ll rest until I feel better.

And everything will be fine. Always. 🙂

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The Pursuit of Perfection

I’m bringing messy back.

My whole life, I always thought of myself as a bit of a screw up.  I was raised in a very strict household, where things always had to be spotless and neat.  I never quite understood the importance of all that, and figured when I grew up I’d be more laid back, which I am.  I’m no germ-phobe.  I actually kind of enjoy seeing toys strewn around the house, it makes it feel homey.  I pretty much like the way I am.  So, no problem, right?  Wrong.

While I’m comfortable with this philosophy on cleanliness, there’s always been this bitch hanging out on my shoulder, telling me I’m lazy, unorganized and sloppy.  She remembers my mom’s perfect house, and reminds me that my sister’s house is perfect, just like mom’s.  Why is your house so dumpy?  Why do you enjoy buying from thrift stores?  Don’t you know successful people buy from Pottery Barn?  Why are you such a fuck up?  When are you going to learn, when are you going to get your shit together, why aren’t you like EVERYBODY ELSE?

This year, I’ve been smacked in the face with a wake up call.  It’s precisely that kind of thinking that caused me to become sick with an autoimmune disorder.  If you do a little Googling, you’ll find that most of these disorders are thought to be caused, or made worse from stress. Coming down with an illness caused me to do some introspection and meditation, and when you meditate, you start to see the connections of things.  I began to see that this internal abuse was going on almost constantly.  It was making me feel stressed and worthless, not good enough to deserve the finer things in life.  My reaction to that, was to run myself ragged, desperately trying to be someone who this person on my shoulder would approve of. I became exhausted physically and emotionally, and eventually, I got sick.

I realize now, all that worrying and trying to be a better housewife (for lack of a better term) was futile, that’s just not who I am, and that’s ok.  My house is older.  It can be really hard to make an older house look spotless, they have “character”.  I like character, that’s why I bought the house, therefore, I accept my dingy-looking floors. I know they’re clean enough. So, bitch on my shoulder, get the hell off, and don’t come back.  You’re not welcome in my house anymore, and I feel a whole lot lighter and happier when you’re gone.