Day 11: Wrestling with Myself, Part 1

About a week after I found out I was pregnant, I started going downhill. Yes, the nausea kicked in, which is always no fun, but something else was going on. I was suddenly depressed, seemingly out of the blue. Things in my life that I thought I’d made peace with suddenly sprang up in my face and I realized I was not over it… not by a long shot.

It was autumn of 2015 when I finally had the chance to meet with the doctor I’d wanted to see for 3 years. I originally stumbled upon his website when looking for a doctor for our daughter. I watched a couple videos he had on YouTube and I knew instantly that I liked him. When we met him in person, he felt incredibly familiar, as if I’d known him for a long time. Due to certain circumstances, he wasn’t able to be my doctor at that time, and I was quite frustrated about it for the next couple years. I KNEW this guy could help me… that he was supposed to help me. I couldn’t say how I knew, I just knew. My gut was pretty much yelling at me. 

Circumstances changed, and I finally got to see him and talk about my issues. Actually, before our visit, I sent him a long email detailing every health complaint I ever had. It was somewhere around 15 pages long. 

After reading my email and going over my records, he told me (exact words), “You are disgustingly healthy.” It became clear that I wasn’t dealing with a sick body (whenever I got tests done, my results were usually pretty normal). To use a common phrase, it’s “all in my head”. It’s not that my symptoms weren’t real. They were and have always been obnoxiously real. But the underlying cause has far more to do with my inner life.

I had spent years being mad at my body, thinking it was somehow dysfunctional. I didn’t understand why it didn’t just pull itself together and respond correctly, dammit! Why was my body constantly freaking out? Why couldn’t it remain consistent? I’d try something with great success, only for my body to reject it later. I was constantly shifting and changing and I couldn’t control it. My mode of operation had always been to try and force my body into submission, as if I was some drill sergeant and my body was military scum. Drop down and give me 20! 

My doctor basically laughed at me sympathetically and was like, How’s that been working out for ya?

Yeah, it wasn’t working at all. This was seriously the first time I realized there was even another way. I believe much of my approach was founded on certain doctrines and teachings within Christianity that I’d been heavily exposed to. There’s this idea that we have control over our bodies, especially with the authority of Jesus Christ. Our spirits are supposed to be in charge (but I’m pretty sure most of us are confusing our spirits and egos), and you can tell your body what to do. My failure to bring my body and everything else of my life into submission to my demands left me with a ton of desperate shame. Not only was my life chaotic, I felt embarrassed and ashamed because I couldn’t do anything about it. I felt I had weak will power or was lazy. I beat myself up over it all, which of course did not help with healing whatsoever…

To be continued 

One thought on “Day 11: Wrestling with Myself, Part 1

  1. Pingback: Day 12: Wrestling with Myself, Part 2 | grace in the night

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