It never ceases to amaze me how time flies by…

I got the worse cold I have had a couple of weeks ago, I think the last time I was that sick was 10 years ago. I actually took two whole sick days, sitting on the couch sleeping, reading, and watching Netflix. Now, you probably are saying, two sick days, seriously? What is the big deal with that? Well, let me tell you. First, I am a type A personality, and don’t sit for long periods of time without getting a bit antsy. I have learned since Jesse and Bella died how to do that “better” because my body will rebel if I don’t, but still, it is a work in process. Second, I have been self-employed for almost 20 years. I have my office hours where I see patients, but there is so much to do aside from those hours. It is the running joke of self-employed people, there is always something to do, even if it is scrubbing the top of the trim in your office because it is always dusty. So, for me to take two days off in a row like that, I was super sick.

I was going to then write last week, but after losing a week essentially, I was like nope.

So, here I am, as usual, life is not boring.

I was at my therapists last week, and I had a duh moment. We were talking about hobbies. For some reason, in my head jobs and hobbies were amiss. My acupuncture work is a job. Again, in my head, my advocacy work in suicide prevention/postvention was not quite a hobby, but not a “job” either, like my acupuncture work. I stand corrected, it is a job. We were talking about ways to calm my system, try to counter-act the cortisol that loves to pump through, wreaking havoc. That’s the thing, after a trauma like I had, that will never stop. Yes, it is a lot better than it was five years ago, but unless you give me a lobotomy and literally wipe my memory, it is still there. The impact is still as fresh, the affects still can cripple me. I have learned over the years how to mitigate it well, but it is not perfect. And I am seeing the affects that cortisol and other chemicals have been having on my body now.

I like to say I am a walking experiment, that sorta satisfies my scientific brain. It is also some dark humor which I am known for. I know as a medical provider how stress affects the body, I counsel patients everyday on it and help them come up with ways to counteract it. I have been working on my own for a lifetime, and had to exponentially increase all of it 5+ years ago in order to stay. Again, I don’t believe in perfection, but I am pretty damn good at it. That being said, no matter what I do though, the effects of the trauma are present. I recently did a hormone study which was fascinating as I am in perimenopause (joy, yes, that is sarcasm). One of the sets of hormones that came back were a bit weird, so I googled it. Guess what came back, I have PTSD. Sigh and slap on head at the same time.

I am working with my mind and acceptance on some things that are super hard. The reality is, I am going to be dealing with the effects of this trauma forever, I can’t escape them. I am starting to see those effects on my body. I know what to do, I have a lot of knowledge that I knew and have gained, plus have a great team helping as well. I get an “a” for self care. And I have read the research and know how bad stress is for your body long term.

So what to do?

I am not sure to be honest. I just came from the doctors office where she took 7 vials of blood, and we went over everything. I asked at the end, am I missing something? She knows me well, and said, no, you are covering everything, you are doing it right. We are going to check a few new tests to see if something comes up, but you are truly doing everything you can. I told her, I figured, but I had to ask.

I am doing my best to stay, I really want to, though the thoughts in my brain don’t always agree with that sentiment depending on levels of grief in that moment. It is a helpless feeling at times when you are doing “everything right” and feel like you are Sisyphus, pushing the rock up only for it to be at the beginning again. It gets tiring, and, in fact, is yet another “job” I have, dealing with the grief/anxiety/depression/PTSD on any given day, then battle the chemical and physical reactions that ensue. Some days, I just don’t want to fight anymore. But then I shake it off, look at my beautiful family, my friends, the leaves that are so fucking mind blowingly beautiful in this moment, and put my fighting gloves back on and go at it yet again.