Every now and then, you have a day (or string of days) that brings everything to light. The kind of day that presents you with celestial epiphanies or sparkling truths or great challenges. Or sometimes - and, in this case - answers to questions you've had for days, weeks, even years.
It didn't appear that way at first.
I had the most emotionally unstable weekend I've had in over 4 months. It was a real, call-my-parents-crying-for-several-hours, drive-aimlessly-in-no-direction, obsess-over-meaningless-bullshit, humdinger of a weekend. I was the closest I've been since September to feeling suicidal again. There were lots of reasons: I keep running out of money. I can't really train right now. Yes, I know the IT band injury is because I fucked myself, but it's healing. The gash in my knee from the Kona escapade last weekend, however, is still pretty big, and my sprained ankle still aches under stress -so just occasional yoga. God knows if I'll make St. Anthony's because I have a 3/30 surgery date, so by the time I get done recovering from that and my injuries, I'll be really crunched for training time. Kona is still out of control and split open my lip by headbutting me on Saturday when I was trying to put on his leash (I am buying a harness for him on payday, CPB!) New Guy is being an asshole again. I really miss my parents. And today I got my results from the endocrinologist. You get the picture.
For the first time in my life, without medicine or any real health risks, I pulled through.
My mom actually inspired a big part of this. And all because of these two words: do something. She kept drilling into my head, in between the tears and exhausted conversations, that the only real way to get myself moving was to . . . well . . . get myself moving. I don't care what you do, she told me, but do something. Take an idea and put legs on it. So I did. In two days, I got 4 loads of laundry done, one tub cleaned, the floor swept and the downstairs bathroom tidied up. I went to yoga, read and cried.
The other part of this? Booze. I realized I'd been drinking very consistently again. I usually always see a pattern of depression following several days of drinking, even if I'm not consuming much. And this makes sense, right? Alcohol is a depressant and I have major depressive disorder. Also - I'm facing the last real monthly cycle of my life, since I get my tubes tied on the 30th.
And THAT I am excited about.
And then I started thinking about other things that I could possibly be excited about . . . like how I'm doing better financially than I thought I could.
And how I'm dating again - maybe jerky guys, but not weird internet goobers or alcoholic, controlling freaks.
And how my friends are amazing.
And how I have a roof over my head.
And how I'm in better physical and mental health than I've been in for over 2 years.
And how the animals are doing well.
And how school is going to start again soon.
Sunday night came. All of a sudden I wasn't in tears when New Guy ignored me completely. I even pulled together the chutzpah to tell him off for it.
Monday morning came. I got dolled up, just enough to make myself feel better, even though I was still down. And then I got some more answers . . . the results from my recent tests were revealed at the endocrinologist.
First of all, my cholesterol is normal for the first time in my adult life. Second, my thyroid bloodwork is normal. But I do have 4 thyroid nodules, 2 of which are big enough that they may be cancerous. I go for a biopsy soon to rule cancer out. I probably have polycystic ovary syndrome, and I am insulin-resistant (hypoglycemic). This means I have to go on metformin and start testing my blood glucose, as well as be more diligent about eating 5-7 small meals a day instead of 3-4 larger ones.
This presents obvious difficulties. It's not easy. It's downright scary, actually.
But I see the light.
I see it.
I don't know why, but I feel so positive. I feel encouraged. I feel stronger. Despite the load on my shoulders, which is both lighter and heavier than it's ever been, I finally feel like I'm finally breaking through.
Tomorrow will find me doing what I always do: searching for the right outfit, fixing my hair, wishing I had the shampoo that works better, trying to get the dog to poop before work, wondering what craziness awaits me at the office and if I'll come home to another shredded rug tonight in the bathroom. I may not feel as spunky and sexy as I've been feeling, given my depression and the interesting developments at the doctor's, but I feel . . .
Funny . . . the answers to the questions we ask are not always what we want. They're not always conclusive. NG didn't prove anything to me. The test results weren't all positive, but they weren't all negative. And they certainly didn't yield conclusive results. But, some times, the answers to the questions we ask aren't meant to end our search, but to encourage us to ask new questions . . . better questions . . . some times different questions altogether.
And you know what? I kinda like that.
This week's questions are school . . . taxes . . .and training. I'll fill in the rest as I get some more answers. ;-)