Lucky for me, I had a few stable rocks to lean (hard) on in the tempest of this time. They held me up. Walked me to the bathroom. Rolled me in my wheelchair to the doctors. Loved me in spite of my limitations, lack of income, lack of activity, creativity, lack lack lack. Even when life sucked a giant sour pickle, I still loved it deep down. Slinking out of suffering through suicide wasn’t my style.
I chose to “accept the dark invitation” of my illness, since it seemed I had no choice.
When everything in my world narrowed to such a small space as to fit into a (gluten free ;) flour tin, it clarified what was *really* important; what (and who) *really* deserved my (precious) time, attention, and precious, precious, precious energy.
I asked myself: What did I have the power to control? What could I do to impact my future course? Once I had the answers (change my entire lifestyle from A-Z) I seized those reins with a loose hand, and set my course.
Before my leave, I used to race down the stairs on my way to work, coffee in one hand, cell phone open with email in the other, barely noticing anyone or anything on my way to the car. Once inside, my brain ran through that mornings’ eight upcoming meetings, barely registering any of the actual scenery of the drive.
This once overly caffeinated New York speed-walkin’-fast-talkin’-get-sh*t-done-perfectionist-over-achiever now moved into life in slow motion.
Slow living magnified so many things I’d missed. Laying like an open faced sandwich in the magenta hammock from Oaxaca, Mexico, I felt the subtlely of the invisible wind on my skin, saw the hummingbirds suckle honey from flower nectar all over the garden; tasted the lemon juice in my soup; smelled autumn in the air; the crackle of dry leaves no longer irrelevant to me.
I saw with clarity that “career, success, achievment,” were all important matters in the province of doing. An exile from that country, my new land trained me up in the art of being.
I needed to change deeply embedded habits. Embracing a slower pace lead to miscrospic changes that were so slight they could easily be missed in the moment, much like the movement of tectonic plates. Yet, surveying the land of my life now, the impact they had is as clear as the aftermath of an earthquake.
I’m still questing for the next level of health, and I won’t stop until I reach Oz.
As I write this today, the ratio of my life is equal(ish) parts doing and being. I’m raising a child (my body made a tiny human!), building a business (that works with my limitations & need for self-care), tending a garden, sitting in silence each day (to settle my fluttering mind), managing my health (food, stress, sleep, the works), caring for my loved ones (holla to my rock the man-dude), and experiencing the fullness of life.
I’m as imperfect as the first hand-thrown bowl, my clay body vulnerable, porous, and breakable. I’m too controlling as a default, way too worried all the time, prone to obsessive thinking, plagued by perfectionism, and always working to forgive myself in advance (this is very difficult). I like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain (joke).
Changing your diet in the face of a chronic health issue is like the required reading on a freshmen syllabus. The ol’ father of medicine Hippocrates did say: Let food be thy medicine, and medicine they food. Beyond recipes for nutrient rich food that your body needs as of yesterday, I’m here to help you find the right doctors, guides, and path to your own brilliantly lit up life—outta that bed, into the world again, doing what you love, what you feel you were meant to do, beyond your illness and its four walls. This is YOUR life. High stakes indeed.
Will you join me? HOLLA!