I have gone from really sick to well. I thought I would share a little bit about this process in the hopes that maybe it encourages anyone who is feeling really sick! There are ways to feel better. It takes time and attention. You can do it.
I’ve “recovered” from being quite sick one and a half times. The first time was pre-motherhood and I was figuring out endometriosis which comes with a whole host of sister-issues like leaky gut, migraines, and thyroid drama. The second time is currently ongoing. Motherhood burnout is what led me to a new round of “recovery” mindset. But, this time, I have a lot less time and a lot less energy, so it has looked pretty different.
The book/program (it’s both, I’ll have to get some clarity around what to call it) I am working on is supposed to help address this paradox: How do you pick yourself up off the ground when you have absolutely nothing to give?
For now, instead of attempting to answer that from a theoretical standpoint, I’ll tell you what I have done in the past and am doing now.
Let’s start with the past. I was 28, a teacher.
I had to figure out I was sick
If you’re someone with extreme symptoms that limit your functionality OR someone who has never had your functionality limited by physical symptoms, this might sound crazy. But, there is a large group of people who are in pain of some kind, doing their darndest to get by, go to work, and take care of their families… and the only way to do this is with an extremely high level of dissociation.
Dissociation of mind and body is a useful tool, a painkiller. When symptoms do start to get the attention of someone with excellent dissociative skills, it is because they are REALLY bad. They are SCREAMING at you because a firm talking-to was not getting the job done.
The first step to decreasing the burden of this pain is to allow your brain to talk to your body and vice versa. It SUUUUCKS. And then, after a while, it doesn’t suck as much…
I was lucky enough to have people observe me and tell me I was sick. A particularly startling remark from my roommate once was, “You know, I feel good after I eat. It’s supposed to give you energy, not make you feel like you have to pass out.” She also gently handed me a resource, a women’s health book, which held my hand through the un-dissociating period. This is part of why I love recommending books to people. They can gently, at the pace that is right for you, make you feel validated, angry, and hopeful all at once. Check out my bookshop if you think you might like a little nudge toward some reading that could change your health story by asking you to let your brain and body check in with each other…
2. I prioritized emotional processing above all else
So, remember the dissociation? When you come out of a lifetime of serious dissociation, the things you realize are TOUGH. If you can turn your mind off to menstrual cramps for 3 days straight to deliver engaging and interactive lessons to a room full of teenagers (or whatever your version of being “on” looks like), you can turn your mind off to personal wrongs made against you, your own wisdom and grief about the state of the world, and even pleasure. We are capable of our own numbing, and it goes both ways: pain and pleasure.
I wanted to have these feelings and make space for these processes. One of my most uncomfortable endo symptoms is lack of pooping (constipation, but I prefer getting to say poop). It’s not a coincidence that people who can’t process emotions also struggle to process food. For some, that gets fiery (diarrhea), for some, it is numb stagnation (constipation).
I re-invented my mornings to be 100% dedicated to emotional processing (and pooping). I woke up with two whole hours before I had to leave the house, made some lemon water, and sat in a cozy chair with my cat, a heating pad, sometimes a candle (before candles got canceled), and a notebook. My journaling was almost exclusively initiated with the prompt “I’m letting go of…”
[Side note: My absolute favorite resource that I created for the book/plan I am working on is six weeks of journal prompts that specifically walk you through the release of emotions tied to the function of our most critical organs.]
3. I imagined a timeline
I looked at this healing process as a season. I knew it was not forever, so I could dig in DEEP without having to commit to forever lifestyle changes. I did it in the winter, so that there was a cocoon type of mentality, and as spring approached, sure enough, I started to get a little antsy and ready to “butterfly.” I did have a little bit of fear of leaving the cocoon. It was soooooo nice in there. But I was ready to try out this new body that I trusted.
The program I am working on is six weeks long. I think this is the sweet spot of leaning in, but not getting overwhelmed or stuck in the safety of a healing bubble, which can really become an identity.
4. Supplements
As a Nutritional Therapy Practitioner I am supposed to be “food first” for nutrition. But, making the transition to nutritious cooking is a PROCESS and I did not have time to wait for my own kitchen learning curve. I leaned heavily on supplements for nutrients that would heal leaky gut (cell junctions and mucosal lining in the gut), replenish nutrient stores (endo and stress steal a lot of nutrients), and make sure that my detox pathways were clear (aka make sure I was pooping).
If you are struggling, the placebo effect of supplements can do wonders. I recommend this as a crutch when you’re feeling poorly, and then trying to decrease the need for supplements as you begin to recover (and learn to get nutrients from the kitchen).
5. Boundaries
I quit my job. Being a person who withstands a lot of physical pain means you are usually a person who is willing to withstand a fair amount of other kinds of pain… My job was not “painful” exactly. In fact, it was great in most ways. There was just too much of it, and I regularly had boundaries crossed by the expectations of my community. The boundaries could have been simply limitations of my body, not unreasonable behaviors from others, but, they were boundaries nonetheless. You get to have limits.
I’m not condoning “quitting your job” as a healing measure (although, lol, I think we can mostly agree that if it were possible, it would be the most impactful thing??). But, I do think that learning my boundaries and APPLYING them was a huge propulsion forward in my overall wellness - a vote of confidence in my own value and believing my own experience.
6. Food
In some ways, food was the biggest change. I stopped eating a lot of familiar foods, and I started eating some new ones, all in an effort to tame inflammation. But, I also often think back to how changing my diet was more just a tool for enforcing boundaries, declaring how I needed to eat to feel well, and for caring for myself through the act of cooking.
When we take cooking out of our day-to-day as I had (takeout, restaurants, cafeterias), we also lose the act of self-care and attention. We don’t get to check in on that basic level and say, “What do I need and how can I get that for myself?” When the answer is quick, like, “I need a burger, I’ll get takeout,” we don’t get to go through the motions of lovingly preparing it for ourselves. There is an element of confidence that comes from being able to meet your own needs.
If you’re really burned out right now you might be thinking “Oh my god, f*ck off.” And, that’s fair. It’s not always easy. But if the reframe of “getting to provide for myself” is useful- take it. It was for me at that time.
[Side note: I did not include interactions with medical professionals in this list, but I was in constant conversation with my Dr. and would expect that to be a part of any healing process]
How is recovery looking the second time around?
In present time, as a stay-at-home-but-also-tryna-hustle-and-not-lose-my-shit mom, the strategies above don’t seem so relevant. Well, they’re relevant, as in, they’re what I WISH I could do…but they’re not accessible. My new version of healing is centralized around the concept of reducing my own mental load.
You will not be surprised to hear that someone who once responded to poorly processed emotions with a lack of pooping similarly responds to the mental overload of motherhood with a lack of pooping. It’s about “metabolizing,” right? Metabolization of emotions, information, stressors, stimulants…
What this phase of recovery has brought me to is:
Make a plan with as many elements from my previous recovery as I can reasonably manage.
Let the written down plan “carry the mental load”
Do the plan
There is lots of humility in this version. Three days of routine and I’m on top of the world, two days of toddler illness or canceled childcare, and “I’ll never feel well again.” The ups and downs are a bit more extreme.
The other major difference? It’s not just a season. It’s a tool. I now have a plan that I can start up when I have a flare. It’s a lifelong commitment to getting out of flares efficiently so that I can feel good most of the time.
I can’t wait to share more about how this plan has worked/is working/will work in the future for me. And, can’t wait to get it into a shareable format for you.
Please reach out if there’s anything you’d like to know more about from the topics above. Always happy to commiserate, cheer you on, chat, consult, or share more of my own experience.