Something I want to talk about in this space, (this space where bloggers can talk about health journeys), is how long it can take to unearth or change our core identity, to one that always embraces our own health first and foremost.
And then stick with it…forever.
Because sometimes life can intervene, and for me, it feels like life hit reset on all the changes I had made to my identity.
In our current North American food-centric environment, health is a broad banner under which advertising will operate. We see encouragement to prioritize our health almost everywhere we look.
But! We also see the opposite of “health” everywhere at the same time. (And I’m sorry, I am going to include a couple of photos of calorie laden food in this blog to illustrate my point).
It seems to me (and I really do not think I am off base in this feeling) that every other advertisement is for food laden with excess calories, filled with questionable ingredients, questionable macros to create the perfect flavor combinations that encourages overconsumption, and all in questionably large portions.
And in reality, our busy lives can push our health to the back seat, with bills to pay, a house to clean, family to care for, and simply—what’s for dinner tonight?—sitting in the forefront every day, and blocking a “healthy” view.
To become someone in North America that consistentlyrejects this large part of our environment, this normalization of overconsumption that I wrote about 5 years ago here, always in favor of a healthy choice instead, is to unearth or change our core identity into someone who severely limits how much they partake of what is the majority (at least, it feels to me like the majority) of the food that is out there being advertised to us.
In fact, that means many times I have to make entirely different choices than some of the people closest to me. I already had to do that with Celiac, but I also (specifically to me) have to do that with choosing healthy portions and whole food options, because of other food sensitivities.
My identity had to become someone who keeps their eye on their own plate, resist paying attention to all this advertising, and resist paying attention to what anyone else close to me may or may not be eating.
But when those other “plates” are advertised to me constantly?? Well, I have to just look away. And it’s not easy. It had to be a complete identity change to simply “that is not my food.”
It’s not easy. You basically have to become a different person. You take on a whole new identity. And I have really tried to do that.
But then I started feeling crappy, and started thinking, what’s the point in going against the flow? I am tired of being that person who plans to eat differently all. the. time.
I am just tired. And what does it mean if I have started to slip back into old patterns, thus rejecting my new core identity, and all the emotional misery that goes along with it because I see myself turning my back on who I now know myself to truly be?
It has taken so much time to make the changes I did. Too much time. Years. Decades. It’s not all undone, but…
Then…reset. My life seems to have hit the reset button, because I just do not feel as strong as I felt last year.
But I haven’t given up, so I came here to blog instead. And yes, this was inspired by all the food prepared over this last weekend for Canadian Thanksgiving. I did not include photos of the usual thanksgiving food, because the food environment advertised to us is not always about special holiday meals, it’s about eating all of the things, all the time.
But to be honest, there were same days where I did quit.
I quit prioritizing my health.
I quit weighing and measuring my food.
I quit making healthy choices.
I quit tracking my total calorie intake.
I even quit, on a few days here and there, brushing my teeth.
But I didn’t quit…altogether.
Over 7 years ago, I started this blog, and in my 5th entry I wrote: “I do not know what it would feel like to be starting a diet for the very first time, with hope for the future in my heart, without the jaded wreckage of all my past regains tainting my optimistic outlook.”
Wow, can I just say for myself, that is a great line. It’s really profound.
But now, how my past looks to me, with almost 3 years (for the first time in my life) of a much healthier food relationship and maintenance of a reduced and mostly stable weight, I am NOT looking back at the jaded wreckage of all my past regains. I am looking at the most amazing period of time of success I have ever had.
And that means I better NOT quit now!
And I better stop quitting for a day—here and there—also.
Everything feels like a lot these days, culminating in yesterday, I went to a funeral. You know the saying, “Coming up for air”? I don’t know if that is the meaning behind the first line of the Band of Horses song “The Funeral,” which reads “I’m coming up only to hold you under…”, but I whenever I hear those lyrics, I have always imagined someone who is drowning, coming up for air, only to grab someone else and pull them down and hold them under the water with them.
Sorry, that is really macabre.
I wish we had a service for my dad when he passed in November of 2023. I know we “Don’t do services in our family,” according to my mom, but they can be so helpful when sharing our grief, so surrounded by old friends I grieved my dad yesterday too.
But it was a wonderful celebration of life for a life-long friend of my mom and dad, as far back as them being in grade 6 together. This is a woman whose daughter, in turn, became a life-long friend of mine who was a part of my second annual kindergarten reunion this past June. It was her mom that took this picture of us girls, before either of us had turned five years old. She was like a second mom to me.
Her service brought so many people together, including some of the reunion gals close enough to travel there, (it was a 2-hour drive one way for me), plus others from our high school years who lived near by also, what a surprise. I think Myrna would have been very pleased she brought us all together.
After what felt like an even longer drive home, emotionally wrung out from the day, (I even seem to have an emotional hangover today), I went out for a short walk with my husband, dog, and cat in the stroller, and saw a rainbow.
The thing is, I would not have even gone out for that walk, except that I really wanted to log that walk on RunKeeper, to complete that streak, with the week before and after too, that I talked about here. In fact, the ONLY thing that got me to “Come up for air” every day last month was this covenant I had made with myself to log a 15 minute activity every. single. day.
All month long had felt like a countdown—finally—to the services yesterday.
I am hoping now I can come up for air and stay there, instead of slipping back under.
And honestly, I feel like crap. And I feel out of control, like I am on a run away train leading to November 18th’s echocardiogram, which may, or heck, maybe not, confirm and validate the worsening direction I am headed.
Not knowing for sure is the problem, because I am a ruminator. I cannot seem to help but ruminate when daily I feel worsening physical symptoms that I didn’t have before.
My prescription? Just wait and see…
I want off this train, but I can’t get off of it, no matter how much I want to. 11 more weeks until my next echocardiogram.
I know I just need to live my life, be grateful, and take care of myself and my family, (my husband and pets), but I am really struggling with the inertia of this chronic illness. It freakin’ sucks.
Picture of the sun as seen through forest fire smoke in my valley.
On Monday night (August 24), I had chest pains. Just a few sharp jabs of pain, and nothing really has happened since as sharp as what I experienced Monday. Because my heart is actively remodeling due to its bileaflet prolapsed mitral valve and resulting regurgitation issues, maybe the pain was just caused by a sudden pressure change in my left ventricle or atrium, or maybe something from my systolic reversal in pulmonary vein flow, (which was a new finding on my February 2026 echo, that was not on my August 2025 echo). But whatever, probably nothing to worry about, right?
But…
I mostly think positive, and I remind myself I am doing so well despite slowing down a little, and lots of people have it so much worse, and I am so very grateful with a gratitude list a mile long. And compared to Hayden Panettiere who recently passed away at the age of 36, (the same age as Princess Diana), at my age of 55 years old I have already been gifted with a long life and have achieved all the things I worked hard to achieve. For example, after almost 15 years of going to school part part-time while working, I finished my bachelor’s and master’s degrees and worked for a university teaching writing for three years. And I have gone on all the trips I wanted to go on. My hubby and I went to Hawaii twice, Vegas three times, drove a convertible down the Florida Keys, took a four night cruise out of Miami to Cozumel, and took our RV to so many destinations in Canada and the Western US, etc. We went to Mount St. Helens! And, and, and…I am absolutely luckier than so many, and I am so grateful that I do NOT spend my life bitter and jealous of others who have lived a life I wish I could have lived, because I personally know people who daily live in that space.
But…
None of that changes the fact that my whole life moving forward is painted with this filter of having a heart valve with a ticking clock. It colors everything, and self-denying it (it’s me, I am daily doing it to myself) just invalidates me and makes me feel worse. Things like, “But it is just a slight pain, so no big deal, right?” That is like going outside and seeing the world through the haze from forest fires, and thinking it’s just because there are forest fires burning but telling myself, “But it’s not affecting my community right now, so it’s no big deal, right?” Um, actually, it’s still a big deal knowing something is burning close by. And none of those thoughts change the fact that today my sky doesn’t look the same anymore.
The thing with a forest fire is eventually they are under control, extinguished, and our skies clear. It’s truly the best analogy to what I am experiencing, because the sky can be hazy for weeks and weeks on end, and the sun is orange, and if the fire is close enough, there can even be a blueish smokey haze hanging in the trees and mountains, with ash falling in your yard. And while you live with it for weeks and weeks on end, maybe a month or more, you don’t know when it will end.
But a forest fire does eventually end.
I live currently with that same haze painting the lens through which I live my life and view my world, but I live with it indefinitely. And then life throws in new chest pains?? Well, that’s just like opening my front door and actually smelling the smoke.
And then it’s not just a head game, it’s my innate instincts for survival that start firing off. Physical anxiety, not just mental.
But then I tell myself to just get over it, and just stop worrying, because there’s nothing I can do about it anyway. If the “fire” gets close enough, and I’m evacuated, and my house burns down, well, hey, there’s nothing I can do, so just stop worrying about it. Just get on with life.
Frankly, just shoving all that aside and getting on with life is easier said than done. And my internal dialogue about it, if it dismisses my feelings, well, I am not finding that helpful. Frankly, I am getting quite…anhedonic. Anhedonia is the inability or reduced ability to feel pleasure or joy from activities you normally enjoy. All. Summer. Long.
Frankly, I am sitting here, with no zest for the life I have, because my “fire” will eventually reach my front door, but I don’t know when. My life is painted with this filter of having a heart valve with a ticking clock, and the daily struggle to simply ignore that fact and just wait…is getting me down.
All that being said, maybe it’s understandable that following the new chest pains, I spiraled downward even further, and just thought, “What the hell, I wish I would just keel over with a heart attack, or something. I just want to just get this over with!”
So, what did I do then? I ate food. My good ole go to—stuff down my feelings—food. A lot of food. Food in the large amounts that had been my roller coaster life of yo-yo dieting, (to then get back off the weight I had subsequently gained from overeating like that, feeling bad about it, and then doing it all over again, wash, rinse, repeat, for 40 years), which inspired the creation of this entire blog…which was all LONG before I knew I had a heart valve and connective tissue issues causing things like inguinal hernias.
Oh boy. There it is. And it feels like time travel, that I have learned nothing, and I am back at the beginning. Overeating is my drug of choice. I don’t get drunk. I don’t do drugs. I used to overeat a lot. And I finally did it again.
And frankly, I have been dabbling a little with that behavior, all summer long. And I finally gave in fully. (Unfortunately there is a huge rush of dopamine associated with that behavior, the lure of which I must now resist in spades, just like with any other addiction, I have learned that much, at least).
I wish I didn’t have to wait for my next echocardiogram November 18 to be told where things have progressed to. Because as much as I want to “just think positive,” I feel like things have indeed progressed. And not just feel it in my head because of worry. I feel different physically. Simple fact. I am struggling to do the activities I used to do, like a simple 20 minute walk, (two recent of which are pictured below), and not because of mental lack of fortitude, but because of physical symptoms, (and then feeling the need to prove it with a picture, a need I chronically have that I discussed in this post). So, I would rather have that feeling that things are worse get proved or validated sooner rather than later. Because invalidating myself in the interim is a trigger for me, one that I have been giving in to, (and then gave in like a pro Monday night and all day Tuesday, by medicating that feeling with overeating).
But there’s nothing I can do except continue to see my whole world painted with this filter, and just live my life anyway, right??
15 minutes! Just like what I posted about 2 days ago here! What perfect timing that I just read this in a blog post, even though it is from someone’s blog from May 30, 2018.
A fellow blogger, and fellow healthy lifestyle enthusiast that I know, has been doing some re-uploading of old posts, (to preserve their original date posted, as she updates her blog), and I am absolutely loving reading these old posts! She had (still has) such excellent observations about what it is to struggle, but also to ultimately choose healthy food and activities (never give up!) because we owe it to ourselves to live our best lives, and that starts with our health. I was having trouble posting a comment to her, as these posts are re-uploads, so I thought I would mention here a few of her posts that struck me, (and they are all really great, truly).
More than one post was an excellent testimonial to daughters, to step daughters, to all women really, to not let people decide for us what we think about our bodies. In particular, one post reminded us that advertisers simply make a lot money if they sell us dissatisfaction with how we look, (don’t let them!). Another post called out any fitness influencer who would try to shame us for NOT competing with all other women, effectively pitting us against each other, instead of encouraging solidarity and celebration of one another.
And the most heart touching (and partly gut wrenching) story was about the soul of a young girl, a soul that truly saw that she needed “to sparkle,” and bought her a necklace for her birthday. The girl just knew when she saw it, that she had to get it for her, and lo and behold it had been the exact necklace that had caught her eye in the mall weeks earlier. If that does not make a person believe, nothing will.
Anyhow, our words here in this blogging space matter more than we know. We do not know who we will touch when we write what we write. The fact that I wrote just 2 days ago, that for the month of August I am only going to do 15 minutes a day if that’s all I can do, (which is a fairly big step down for me, and I basically feel forced to set the bar so low because of my recent health, and I had been feeling like a bit of a failure about it even though it’s not really my fault), but then I see her post today (re-posted from 2018) about a 15 minute walk and talk? What are the odds that would even happen?? The blog was entitled “The Value of Simplicity,” which has replaced any bad feelings I have about only doing 15 minutes. Maybe I will do more, but 15 minutes still counts.
Wow, I didn’t even notice, June was a perfect month. At the end of the month of June, not only was I hitting a solid 3 year streak of tracking a 15 minute activity every single week, I also tracked an activity every single day that month.
So, I just scrolled back through my log on RunKeeper. Even though I had (still have) a perfect streak of tracking something at least once per week for the last 3 years, rarely have I tracked an activity every single day for an entire month. Without a deliberate intention to track something every single day, there was usually a few days each month, here and there, where tracking an activity just wasn’t going to happen. A good example is a day I was getting on a plane to go traveling, getting up early, maybe even with a stopover to change planes, and arriving late. Then getting there, greeting family, unpacking, etc. That is a perfect example of a day where I just wouldn’t bother to also add “track a 15 minute activity” to my to-do list.
During the month of July, I have been casting about for something new to motivate me. I have done a lot of counting how many kilometers I walked in the last 3 years since this accident. But this month I have struggled to keep up the pace, so to speak. I said in this post, we cannot stay at the pinnacle of our health indefinitely. In fact, thinking that we can seems to be a narrative that I see in the social groups around me. Someone completes a 5K race, and they are immediately asked, “Now what? A 10K?” And then after the 10K comes the half marathon, the full marathon, ultra marathon…it can go on and on. But it has to end somewhere, doesn’t it? When is it good enough? When are we done?
The pressure we can put on ourselves to beat our own selves…
Of course, when it comes to staying healthy, we are never done. Working on our health is a daily practice, which we must continue to do, if we are enthusiastic about that kind of lifestyle. However, sometimes we realistically need to adjust. We cannot always be striving to do more and more. But how do we adjust activity, if the need arises, without feeling that doing less somehow makes us less?
I’ve been trying to figure that out. I have been doing less, and unfortunately, I have been allowing myself to feel less.
But then I saw that absolutely perfect month of just 15 minutes a day, for a whole month, and well, I cannot resist making that a goal for August. I am excited, I now have some deliberate intentional motivation to carry me forward. And it’s only 15 minutes of activity to count for the purposes of RunKeeper’s log. 😊
I am still experiencing the “good walk/bad walk” issue I wrote about here. In this picture above, the “bad” walk (yesterday) was actually slightly shorter than the “good” walk today. Is was basically the exact same route both days, but today I added in going to the mailbox too. Today was actually slightly more of a walk than yesterday, both of them only being around 2K, on flat ground, between 9:00 and 10:00am, and not even hot outside. Very easy walks. And yet, my experience of both of those walks was entirely different.
But I have come to realize this unpredictability is just my new normal. And I can’t let this unpredictability stop me from getting out there and going for these nice easy walks, to do my best to maintain my cardiovascular health. Sure, with the discomfort I feel during a “bad” walk, I am not really enjoying myself in the same way I used to. But I have to stop comparing myself to myself, (the person I was last summer, for example, where every single walk was a “good” walk, how spoiled was I??), and just move on with my new normal.
I need to be thankful for how good things still are. And really, for the most part, things are still quite good. 😊
One good walk, one bad walk, both the same route, same distance, same pace.
But on one of these walks, I was short of breath. And I generally felt tired and out of shape. And I never know which walk I am going to experience, good or bad, when I walk out the door.
Unfortunately, experiencing this uncertainty gets me thinking instead about staying home on the couch, because why risk having the bad walk when I cannot predict which one I will have?
As if motivating myself to exercise for my health is not already difficult at times, the last thing I need is this unpredictability. I need to be actively managing my diseases to control symptoms, including keeping my heart muscle healthy. Deconditioning my muscles by doing less and less activity, or allowing some excess fluid to accumulate by being sedentary, will NOT make anything better.
But when I feel short of breath on a walk, I don’t feel…safe.
There is a difference between being alive, enjoying my life, and feeling safe.
I am alive.
My heart is beating.
My body is still here.
The last echo says my heart is compensating well.
There is no treatment scheduled. Just monitoring.
Life has continued moving forward, so I can enjoy it.
But safety is something else entirely.
Safety is not wondering whether every new pain means my heart is not compensating as well as before. Safety is not studying my body for changes. Safety is not having to have tests that may show changes, but learning that those changes…don’t mean anything yet. Safety is not having to wait for the results of the test that will finally mean something. It is trusting that tomorrow is mine without feeling the need to bargain with it.
Before progressive heart valve disease, I never understood how deeply I believed I was safe.
I knew terrible things happened. I knew people became sick. I knew lives could change without warning. But there was still a quiet distance between those possibilities and me.
Progressive heart valve disease has destroyed that distance.
It taught me that a life can change after the results of a single test. It taught me that my body can be holding something dangerous while I am simply vacuuming, folding laundry, cooking dinner, and thinking about plans for next spring.
It taught me that feeling okay does not always mean everything is fine.
So yes, I am alive. And I am deeply grateful to be alive, and I am getting out and enjoying life. But I am not in that positive space all day every day. Especially if I have a bad walk.
But my daily gratitude does not erase the part of me that, at different times, is waiting for the next set of test results. It does not silence the fear that rises when something hurts or when my body feels unfamiliar. It does not rebuild the innocence I had…before I learned how quickly everything could change.
There is grief in that too. Grief for the version of me who once moved through life without constantly thinking I could lose life sooner.
People sometimes see survival as the moment the danger ends.
Survival for me is learning how to keep living with that sense of danger that lingers, and after my sense of safety has been taken.
Survival is slowly teaching my nervous system that every ache is not an emergency. It is getting tests without searching for the all the possible hidden warnings inside them. It is still making plans while knowing how fragile plans can be.
Maybe one day those two things will feel closer together.
Maybe one day being alive will not feel like something I have to continuously prove, protect, or prepare to lose.
Yes, my own weights (burdens) are still something I can hold, and hold well. Getting old is a privilege, so I hope no one thinks I am not grateful, because truly, I am. When I say it’s a privilege, I am not talking about my kind of “old” in my fifties. I am talking about my mom’s kind “old,” she is privileged to be 81. (My dad passed away at 80, he never got the privilege of getting any older than that). But this 3-part series about my health is not about me complaining how bad I have it, because I don’t really have it bad. But I am dealing with big changes and new limitations, when I compare myself to myself, and no one else. And I am thinking that although getting old is a privilege, it is not for the faint of heart. ♥️
First of all, I want to acknowledge (mostly to myself) that yes, obsessing (writing a lengthy 3-part series) on a problem, can be how I keep it a problem…But I would also argue that sometimes I really need to explore (obsess) why I am embarking on certain behaviors, (that are not serving me), so that I can make the changes I desire.
And I need to make a serious decision about what I am going to do moving forward.
A body that supports the life I want to live: that’s what I want. But my body will tell me what it is able to do, on any particular day, and I have to be willing to listen to what it needs, regardless of my wants.
In the past, it was almost always a mental feeling, (a mental block, like simply feeling unmotivated and lazy), that was holding me back from healthy activities, in favor of sloth on the couch with Netflix. And all I had to do was gather the right amount of determination and fortitude to push past that mental feeling and just go do the activity I was resisting, (and be so happy afterwards that I did). But that is the biggest change I now need to make with chronic disease. I must correctly recognize the difference between a mental feeling (block) and a true physical feeling (signal) from my body to rest. And then determination and fortitude can instead be employed towards how I feel about and react to a physical need that interrupts my wants. Just like when I use determination and fortitude towards how I feel about and react when I want to eat what other people are eating, but I can’t (because my health demands I don’t, because I have Celiac). My health will make new demands on me, and I must start listening.
The state of being in which I am currently = someone who has been diagnosed with more than one chronic disease, (and sometimes I think holy crap, how is it possible that I could have more than one??). That has to shift—at least part—of my identity, or I am in denial and not listening to my body’s needs. The identity shift is for the part of me that needs to be actively managing my diseases to control symptoms. And not feeling sorry for myself and reacting by instead not prioritizing my health. Actively managing symptoms does not necessarily mean improving them, but it does mean learning a new way of existing with them, without thinking I am just NOT being determined enough = moral failing = might as well indulge in a vice. Without that shift in my identity, as someone who has a chronic disease, (or diseases), I have recently found myself in denial of having chronic diseases at all, so then I have had an excuse to NOT take care of my body.
1)Right now, my biggest priority is actively maintaining my cardiovascular health. My mitral valve heart disease, and resulting regurgitation, (remember, not everyone with this disease has regurgitation that has become progressive, but that is what I am dealing with), has risen to the top as the chronic disease I think of the most in terms of active management.
2)But because of that emphasis on my cardiovascular health, it’s easy for me to forget that I have also have something that is considered both a medical condition and a chronic disease—hEDS—and that has resulted in two inguinal hernias. The first one did not seem to be a problem. The second one, however, is increasingly becoming a problem.
But this new identity of mine that requires all this active management?? I can see now some of my roller coaster of emotional ups and downs (and some overeating for the first time in a long time) are related to resisting my new identity as someone with chronic disease. Instead, I need to embrace it and turn it into a super power. If I want to flip the script on it in a positive way, then I actually have to embrace it as part of my identity.
Michael J. Fox is an example of flipping the script on a serious medical diagnosis. He even named his memoir Lucky Man: A Memoir. How could he think himself lucky?? But this is a perfect example of embracing a new identity and turning it into a super power: first to help himself, (his life did a complete 180 and it also saved his marriage), and then to help others with education and advocacy.
Some days I just do not feel like turning anything into a super power. Especially days when I have a problem with my new hernia, which is what prompted this whole long winded 3-part blog series. I have had two “attacks” in the last two weeks, that truly escalated to me wondering if, instead of temporarily incarcerated, my intestines could perhaps be strangulated, in which case it would have been time to go to the ER, medical invention would be absolutely necessary, not optional.
The new hernia (that bulges through a weak spot or most probably an actual tear in my lower abdominal wall) has begun to allow for a temporary incarceration of material that specifically aggravates a nerve. I have never dealt with nerve pain before. It is a very specific pain. In my experience, it’s not even the intensity of the pain when it is occurring, (but it is undoubtedly intense), it is that all my activities halt. No amount of determination and fortitude can allow me to still function through the pain. So far these attacks are temporary, (oh my, so grateful only temporarily), but they take me out of commission. All I can do is ball up on the couch or bed in the fetal position until the material shifts out of the tear, and stops coming in contact with the nerve.
Last week was my longest attack yet, at 90 minutes. It was so intense, I ended up sweating through my shirt. I would not have been able to drive a car. It was scary.
I am understandably concerned.
But my concern does not erase all the issues I have with the thoughts of undergoing any surgical repair. I am not sure why I have developed a severe level of phobia in this regard, but having a logical mind about it does not magically erase the visceral fear I get just thinking about medical procedures, of which the most intense one I can think of is surgery.
I recognize it’s a problem that I would need to overcome to allow a surgical repair (of anything) moving forward.
But…
I am allowing myself a lot of back and forth dialogue in my head about it:
On one hand, there is serious alarm, (especially after last week’s 90-minute attack, and then again Friday’s 60-minute attack). I think to myself. “I must call my doctor immediately and demand surgical intervention!” Or at least start the ball rolling as soon as possible, because there will probably be other tests and then a waiting list.
But then on the other hand, I think, “But so many doctor visits I have had in my life feel so uncomfortable and difficult. And those visits aren’t even 1/10th as bad as a procedure!”
Then lastly, I think, “Maybe I will be fine, or the next attack will just be a few twinges that pass quickly…”
The decision is made. I am NOT ready to make the decision and call my doctor, to start the ball rolling for hernia repair, prior to dealing with my next echocardiogram in November, and first seeing where I stand with that. I want to see if I can hold out with this hernia issue for 4 more months, then see where I am at with the heart valve progression before moving forward.
Omg, the relief I feel delaying a decision on the hernia issue—it’s palpable! (As palpable as material stuck in the tear during an attack, lol, leaving no doubt as to what is causing the pain). That relief tells me (for now) that is the right decision for me. Oh, such relief I feel.
But, I am embracing my new identity, to be more careful about what I can and cannot do, (high heels and ladders are to be avoided, 3 different attacks now have been linked to time spent on my toes). By listening to what my body wants and needs, without jumping to the conclusion that I just need to be “mentally” tougher and just power through, I can better manage my symptoms and do my best with the healthy I still have.
Part 1 (of what is turning out to be a 3-part series) is here. 😊
I have decided to surrender to the fact that we all wear out as we age. I am simply wearing out a little faster than average. And writing about it in this blog is my therapy.
But certain things wearing out and giving me a bit of a scare (hernia), is no longer a reason to continue making bad choices.
The bad choices I have been making are daily giving into thoughts of “what’s the freakin’ point in trying to slow progression of something that is entirely out of my control,” and then surrendering to my good old vice of overeating.
Sigh.
A person is never “cured” of their old habits, they must instead decide to make the better choices, each and every day. My husband went to a movie the other day. His choice: the habit of having popcorn at the movies. Myself, I must make a better for my personal health choice than that, and stop giving into the adage, “Old habits die hard.” Just because an adage is a traditional, well-known saying that expresses a common observation or a general truth about life, does not mean I have to let that be my truth.
Vice is an interesting word choice. Vice is “A practice, behavior, or habit generally considered immoral, depraved, or degrading. It broadly refers to a moral failing or weakness in a person’s character.” Maybe vice is a harsh word for unplanned food eating, but it has been, most certainly in the past, a bad habit of mine, one with detrimental consequences. Eating unplanned food is the whole reason I, so many times in my life, have been medically classed as overweight or even obese, followed by times of disciplined eating resulting in weight loss…over and over and over again. Not about how I looked, but about how I felt, and what I could do. I am done self-judging how I look. But I know how I feel with extra weight, and I do not want to return to old habits that will lead me there.
For me, unplanned eating (overeating) leads to unhealthy weight gain, so yes, I would say it has been a vice of mine. Ever since talking with my doctor on June 23 about my low ferritin, RBC, hematocrit, and sodium, I have been indulging in a bunch of overeating, instead of planning, preparing, and eating with intention. With my current health concerns, I believe that keeping unhealthy weight regain OUT of the equation is important. And yet, my thoughts for the last two weeks have been mostly the opposite, “it’s not important at all, it’s completely pointless, I might as well eat what I want.”
Sigh.
Sure, I said no one is coming to save me, only I can save me. But what does “save me” even mean? I cannot save myself from certain medical symptoms and discomfort, I can only stoically live through them, (they come and go), and be thankful for the incredible health and abilities I still have.
I have decided if I simply accept and surrender to a few new limitations, (hernias, some worsening eczema, ocular migraines—the connection between migraines and mitral valve regurgitationis well documented), that will help me focus on and preserve the health and abilities I do have. Instead of slamming up against the rock (in matters of my health) in the stream, I must figure out how to go around it. It’s the impeded stream that sings.
Unfortunately, being diagnosed with the chronic diseases of mitral valve heart disease and hEDS, do NOT have the drastic health improvements attached like Celiac disease did, where all I had to do was go strictly gluten free, (not easy, but doable), and positive health improvements were the result. This is different. This is a slow decline, (just like with all aging that everyone experiences, I am NOT special in this regard), but just with a little faster pace. There are not really health improvements I can look forward to. And not accepting that simple fact is actually holding me back.
I get the power of positive thinking, and I use that power when it comes to the really good health (all things considered) I have now. But thinking (waiting, hoping) it’s going to somehow get better? Well, that thinking is not serving me. Simple. It’s not serving me in a positive way. If I accept a certain amount of decline, (instead of getting depressed about it and going off the rails with unplanned eating), then I can once again move forward with healthy choices.
There is nothing I can do or change to affect the same level of positive health results, like with going gluten free for Celiac did, with what I am dealing with right now. And I am dealing with it for the rest of my life. So, when the negative voice in my head asks why bother changing my identity in some positive way, if it won’t really improve my health in the end? I must instead embrace that I have the power to not speed it up, and that, in and of itself, is a form of improving it.
I am still figuring this all out. But I know that there is a happy and productive middle ground where I need to find myself.
Between the two extremes of:
If I just try harder I can fix this! (Like with weight loss and going gluten free for Celiac).
And
What’s the point in trying at all if this is NOT fixable?
I thank myself in advance for bearing with myself while I figure this out.
And I thank anyone else out there who is reading this too.
