World

I Still Have a Story to Tell

This is the first time I have written in my blog in quite a while. It seems that over the past few years, I have been learning how to live and how to implement everything I have learned from time in treatment. I was so focused on learning how to live, that I made little time for writing.

As I am writing this, a pandemic is spreading across the world. It is taking even medically advanced countries to their knees. Many are in fear and desperation. In some countries, dead bodies are piling up faster than they can be buried.

A little about me, I have a lot of both mental and physical health diagnoses. I have asthma, and a chronic version of the Epstein-Barr virus (the virus responsible for mononucleosis), which leaves me immunocompromised. I have learned that last bit just this year, when the illness left me sick twice, after training for big races. I am a runner. I lost 115 pounds in 2016, and started running after. I started small and have since run 4 half marathons (13.1 miles) and 1 ultramarathon (50k-31 miles). I learned over the past year that running these distances was a trigger for the illness, and had to make the decision to stop. Although my distances now top out at 6 miles, I do continue to run, despite the illness. And I am doing everything I can not to allow the illness to take running from me entirely. I do a lot daily to ensure that my body is in peak physical health, including a wealth of supplements, drinking both 67 oz of water and including electrolytes, and getting all of my fruits and veggies and also whole grains, as well as meditating to reduce stress. I do all I can so as to best equip my body to fight something that periodically attacks my system for no particular reason.

This new pandemic is especially tough on the elderly and the immunocompromised, or those with underlying heart and lung conditions. I am all of these, except elderly. I started paying attention to what was going on with the virus when it first began, and I have followed the developments closely, until the virus arrived at our doorstep. We, the United States, are amongst the last to be inundated with this horrible virus. And unfortunately, our government and our health care system are ill-equipped to deal with any of it. Our people are, regrettably, also obstinate and definitely not the brightest crayons in the box.

I started warning people early on, and no one listened. I was laughed at and ridiculed, called negative and alarmist. But I knew I was right, and it wouldn’t take long for them to know that. I also knew they would learn most tragically.

Right now, the population is split between people heeding the warning, and those ignoring it. We are all waiting to get sick, basically. Some won’t believe it until we do.

I made my regular Friday trip to my favorite grocery store, and the scene was insane. I’d never seen anything like it. By the time I was done, I was certain that while I had not been exposed to the virus prior to that trip, I most certainly had in the grocery store. I cried for my 45 minute trip home, thinking I was probably about to start the last of only two healthy weeks I had left in my life. Even now, the thought brings me to tears. I thought a lot of things. “How do I want to spend it?” “How do I make the most of it?” “Do I loaf around and eat whatever I want? Or work hard to equip my body for this fight?” “I want to make sure I run as much as I can.” “I want to find the beauty in all I can. All the little things we take for granted everyday.”

But of all the things that crossed my mind, one stood out the most. “I wish I had written more” The thoughts that followed were, “I still have so much I want to say. I have to say everything I can while I still have time. I have to write.”

That last realization struck me the hardest. Of all the time I wasted, when I could’ve been telling my story, and all that I’ve learned. What if I don’t have enough time now to say everything I want to say? I told my sister that if I do survive this virus, that moment will be my greatest gift. I had not even realized that was how I felt until I truly believed my life was about to end.

So, that is why I am here. I am starting now. I made a daily schedule for quarantine, and this is a part of it. Thank you for joining the journey.

This Valentine’s Day, I Literally Held a Heart in My Hand

This Valentine’s Day, I held the heart of a guinea hen in my hand. Organs are slippery, y’all. *insert gaggy-type emoji here*

Today, I had the opportunity to be a part of the slaughtering process on a friend’s farm. It was such a strange invitation for Valentine’s Day, I had to accept.

THIS is my life. Welcome. Pull up a chair.

Sometime last year, I was flooded with a scary bout of depression that very briefly threatened my life, and gave me a reminder of our mortality, especially mine, with the history that I have. I decided from that experience that this life is far too short to say “no” to ANY opportunities that come my way. I decided to say “yes” from now on, no matter what, no matter how scared I might be. Actually, I decided to say “yes” ESPECIALLY in spite of how scared I might be. (This is real life, y’all. Live it!) The time that has followed since has included, zip lining, paragliding, sky diving, fearlessly diving into dating, and many other endless adventures. When the new year started, I decided to take it a step further and try something new EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Today, I assisted in the animal slaughtering process.

To be honest, I’ve been teetering on the edge of vegetarianism for some time now. With the spiritual growth I’ve experienced in the past 6 months, I struggled with the consumption of animals that were hurt and traumatized prior to death. I believe that energy affects their bodies, and what we consume affects our bodies and our spirits. I believe that trauma most certainly has some impact upon us. I’ve also struggled with the environmental costs that come with meat consumption. My goal in this life is to positively contribute to the world in everything I do. I want this place to be better because I was/am here. I’ve also been squeamish about meat for several years now, which has made me wonder if I should give it up entirely. I figured today would be a good opportunity to confront what exactly it means to consume meat.

Today’s opportunity gave me plenty of time to reflect quietly. The farm I was on gives these animals a full, free life. The animals are treated luxuriously, and the slaughtering process is probably a hundred times more gentle than it would be in a factory setting. The lives these animals lived and the methods of their deaths CANNOT be compared to that of commercial farms. Let me be very clear about that. Today was an excellent chance for me to give that some honest thought. So, aside from the ethical question of whether or not to eat meat, I was allowed a chance to also consider carefully from where I source my meat.

I had friends who asked about pictures from today, but the entire process was treated very reverently, which felt entirely appropriate. I had come from visiting a Hospice patient, and to be honest, when I saw the first guinea hen die, I got choked up. It felt very similarly to when my first patient died. Someone asked me a question, and it was hard to talk clearly without my voice cracking. It is hard not to see death in any instance as a spiritual experience. Death is intense and powerful, and at the same time, it has never been something that I shied away from. If I were uncomfortable with death, I wouldn’t work for Hospice.

I was welcomed to help in any part of the process that I felt comfortable with. I helped with a few parts of cleaning after the death. I do not think that I could, at any time, become comfortable with actually killing the animal. NO part of the process felt comfortable. I started with what seemed easiest. A lot of it is a very delicate and careful process, that I feel too crippled by self doubt to try and approach. I’m not generally terribly enthused about trying anything with too much room for error.

The entire process was quite draining and overwhelming. I am still reflecting upon the experience, but I am grateful to have had it. It actually seemed like a very meaningful way to spend Valentine’s Day. I am grateful to the family that allowed me to be there, and participate at my comfort level. How I will approach meat consumption moving forward is still up for debate, and I will require more time to ponder, meditate, and probably write about the experience, so that I can see further into it and its meaning, and process how exactly it made me feel.

Where your food is coming from, and what exactly it takes to get to your table is something we all need to spend some time considering carefully. Food is not only nourishing our bodies, but also impacting us and our world in ways which we remain comfortably unaware. I’ve learned in eating disorder recovery that food is so important. It is never “good” or “bad.” It is something our bodies and our minds need, and it is equally important to consider how food might be nourishing or harming our souls as well. This world needs us to be intentional about every choice we make right now. Just some food for thought moving forward. Take some time to chew on that. 😉