Friday, April 22, 2011

The Fickleness of Spring and Healing

Spring is possibly the most capricious of all the seasons. It was a mere two days ago that the campus had clear blue skies and the sun warming our faces. There were more people outside than there were in classes. Runners breezed by fashionably clad students, enjoying the heat on their shirtless backs while listening to goodness-knows-what on their iPods.

Wednesday was a good day, a crepe-based day.

I enjoyed Thursday’s cooler weather, the winds playing tricks on girls with short skirts and long hair. Environmental awareness booths sprang up to celebrate Earth Week, talking with students and faculty alike about sustainable energy and growing produce on campus. Since I had my camera with me, I decided to record the liveliness of campus on my way to my interpersonal conflict resolution class at 1:30 p.m.

And again, on my way to the car.

I spend my Thursday evenings at home with the folks. I get to cook dinner, drink tea and watch a movie with Mama Dazz, and maybe talk shop with the Burt-man if he hasn’t gone out to play tennis or D&D. I usually fall asleep with a cat or two on my legs, sleepy and content underneath the warmth of my Jersey knit t-shirt sheets.

Then, I wake up to today. It’s Friday, my day free of class and the start of the weekend. I sleep in anywhere between 8:30 and 9:00 a.m., make myself a mug of Joe and plop myself on the sofa to watch cartoons and eat some breakfast. Today’s breakfast was my second attempt of the rice breakfast bake, only I used the entire egg, a tablespoon buckwheat flour instead of amaranth flour, and 1/4 teaspoon of vanilla. I also put it in a small iron skillet so the bake would cook all the way through, though I think I didn’t keep it in the oven long enough.

The result was similar to yesterday’s, but I’m getting better. Actually, I have a really cool concept for tomorrow’s breakfast bake. It will be Edible Perspective worthy, I assure you.

As for the weather, it was the polar opposite to the warmth and sunshine celebrated on Wednesday. I woke up to a cloudy morning, cold and wet. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy this type of weather, because I do. I lived in Växjö, Sweden’s version of Portland, for the fall and winter months last year. Weeks went by where thick clouds blanketed the town and the sun was absent from view. I enjoy rainy days and cool weather, but today was different.

Today, I felt off. Not like the hustle and bustle on campus yesterday and the day before.

Originally I planned on going to the gym after going to the bank, do an hour of running and half an hour of weight lifting. But as I neared the campus, heading to my dorm to pick up my work out gear, I decided against it. Clearly my body was telling me it didn’t want strenuous activity today. And if my sessions with Cheryl have taught me anything, it’s to trust what my body is saying and to listen.

Still I wondered why I was feeling so peculiar. Could it be that I needed a chill-pill after the vigorous week I had? Could it be that my body was responding to the weather changing to such a low temperature overnight? It has been three days since I changed my Armour Thyroid dosage from 30-30 to 60-30. Is my body reacting to that?

When I was first prescribed Armour Thyroid, my body was acting like it was New Orleans celebrating Mardi Gras. Everything about anything was amazing those first few days. I felt productive, attractive, and energetic. My mood wasn’t a crazy roller coaster ride, linked to my hunger or quick to change. True, I still see the metamorphosis, but it’s quieter, calmer, and not as noticeable.

For some reason my calorie counting has come back, though it isn’t as bad or as obsessive like it was before. I have to remind myself of the lessons I learned reading “Eating in the Light of the Moon” by Anita A. Johnston PhD. and her take on labyrinths.  Though it may seem you are going backwards, you are really moving closer to the center. I may have made it to the center, but now it’s about taking path back out. I am taking the same journey I took before only in a different way, so naturally the things I overcame will still frequent the grounds.

The kicker is how I am the second time around.

This journey is turning out harder than I thought. If I were to be completely honest, I was expecting a complete turnaround in a matter of two weeks, a month at most. Almost all the changes I’m experiencing are internal, generally emotional and mental, sometimes physiological. But my preconceived notions of what I was expecting the Armour Thyroid was going to do for me has been significantly different than to what I am undergoing as of late.

As of now, my hands and feet are warm, my body temperature has risen to a normal range. I am not hungry unless I am physically hungry, and only eat at those times. My mind is alert, my heart is open, my words are honest without fear, my demeanor is calm and, as mentioned previously, my mood isn’t all over the place.

So, with all of these awesome things, what was I still hoping for?

I wanted physical change, an instantaneous cure overnight despite knowing that healing doesn’t work that way. I thought the Armour Thyroid would increase my metabolism, help my body rid itself of the unnecessary water weight I carried, becoming a whole new me. These two things have happened, but I was sort of expecting something more apparent. I’ll be frank here; I wanted rapid weight loss. With all those years of frustration, of the inability to lose weight and the faulty wiring that linked my head to my stomach, I thought it would be the Ugly Duckling story incarnate. I thought I would shed off the old Morri and the new Morri, Morri 2.0, the Goddess of health and happiness, would come forward. And I see her, a blurred reflection in the mirror. She’s almost here; I just have to wait.

I keep telling myself I chose to walk down the labyrinth, that the old Morri’s troubles are still within its walls. They come at me as I walk back to the opening of the maze, but they are not as tangible as they once were, their attacks not as effective, their images slowly fading out of existence.

I am learning and relearning the differences between healing and curing. These terms are not synonymous, though they tend to mingle and sometimes work alongside the other. Healing is a process that never quite ends, one that requires constant evaluation and adjusting. But curing is different. Curing is a quick fix, a process that can happen over night. Really, I wanted a bit of both, instant fixes that only got better and better. Sometimes I think my healing efforts are going backwards, especially when my hands are cold or my throat has that “choked-up” sensation.

But now I realize why cooking has such a mystical affect on me. As you begin the process of making a meal, you combine ingredients, adding one at time and tasting as you go, and sometimes the end result isn’t what you expect, though sometimes it is. Then you make it a second time, a third time, maybe even a seventh time.

Then, you get it right. And it’s the best feeling in the world.

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